A typical Spanish holiday evening held onto the heat of the day, wearing anything was a challenge, especially maintaining some decorum in a light cotton dress. Going commando and braless was a demand, not an option.
As far as Bars go this one looked like it was once a small supermarket and had the bright lighting to go with it, strange place. But the name was promising something music orientated, live music floating out of the automatic doors. It had a bar and a pool table, worth one drink.
The place was not exactly heaving, lightly populated by what looked like the local leathery blonde Expats, not a single tourist looking person insight.
“Bollocks I thought, not going to see much action here.”
The guy making all the noise was alone guitarist/singer screeching out some Pink Floyd number, he immediately acknowledged my friend and I with a witty remark. My friend, Charlotte, whispered in my ear “cheesy” and we both giggled which prompted him to more witty remarks over the mic, but we just wanted the bar ASAP. Despite being slightly attractive his witty mic powered taunts were very unattractive, a bit of a pratt.