The Looker

Airports were the absolute worst, she thought. She turned onto the concourse to her plane. She didn’t just walk down the concourse she strutted. Out of the corner of her eyes she could see men ogling her.

She glanced at her watch. She’s thinking, They tell you to come early, then you wait and wait. She entered the ladies room to check her makeup, again. As she walked out she admired herself in every mirror.

Continuing on she spotted a bar sign. Good place to kill some time, she thought. The small bar was crowded, all the tables were full. She chose one of the two remaining stools and, after placing her carry-on on the floor, she perched on the stool, turned sidewise and crossed her long shaplely legs.

She ordered a gimlet. She would rather have had a shot of Jack, but appearances were everything.

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