Shock and Shame

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There are many reasons to drink. The night I met Striker, it was to mourn the ending of my screwed-up relationship with Morty. Tonight, however, it was to celebrate another workday coming to a close. Becky and I had decided to come for a drink before going home. 

We had just stepped in the door when Becky tugged on my sleeve and said in a conspiratorial whisper, "Hey, isn't that Striker over there?"

I had to stand on tiptoe to see over other sinners milling about. It took a moment, but I finally saw what she was looking at. 

Striker was sitting at the bar, his grin emitting as much charm as possible while he talked to an attractive looking sinner. The woman was the embodiment of sex appeal as she blatantly flirted with the cowboy. I could feel the heat building in my cheeks as I watched her lean over a run her fingers along his arm.

"Let's go get a drink somewhere else," Becky was pulling me back towards the door, "I don't think this place has strong enough liquor."


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