Vodka martini, whatever you’ve got handy, rocks, with a twist

“Can’t believe I didn’t have a chance to run home before you guys bombarded me to go out tonight…I’m stuck in dress clothes, shirt, tie, slacks, oxfords, the whole 9 yards and you jerks are casual,” I said to my buddies as we stepped on the elevator.

“Overdressed and overeager,” chimed in a winking gray-haired man as the elevator doors swung full open. The group broke out in laughter. I broke out in red face.

“God damnit, why am I so fucking loud?” I asked myself under breath as I found myself in the corner of the lift. Doors closing, slowly rolling up to the 9th floor.

I stepped off, bewildered at how beautiful this place was. Floor to ceiling 12 foot windows; clear views of the summer city night skyline glimmering like the star washed water I saw last year at the lake house; chrome adorned fabrications everywhere I looked; sexy souls searching for something crammed in every corner to vie for another. “This just might be okay,” I thought.