I was a dude slut until my early 30’s. These are the stories. Few people know them.
I noticed Leah immediately when I went to get my first drink. I was at my regular bar and she stuck out among the yuppie crowd. Short dark hair, curvy figure, tight low-cut top, cutoff jean shorts meant to display her many thigh tattoos, and piercings in each nostril.
If she noticed the ex-sorority girls and frat stars whispering about her, she didn’t let on. She was nursing a bourbon and making polite conversation with one of the bartenders.
I’m not one for bugging people who are obviously just trying to have a quiet moment so I grabbed my beer and went outside for a smoke.
A few rounds later, it was my turn to grab drinks for me and my friends, so I went back inside to the bar. That’s when I saw Derek chatting Leah up. He was another regular, one that nobody enjoyed engaging with. The prototypical “Well actually…” guy.
I could tell she wasn’t interested in talking to him and quickly went into action. I was buzzed enough that I didn’t care about embarrassing myself.