SoCS — Coffee, Tea, or Me?

28A0A1DF-C70D-4FFE-AF74-F4F733C9C601James sat himself down on a stool at the bar and said to the woman sitting on the stool next to him, “What’s a fine woman like you doing in a place like this?”

Without bothering to turn her head and to look at James, who reeked of alcohol, Pam said, “I work here.”

James was surprised. “You work here? Like at this bar?”

“No,” she said, “not at this bar. At this airport.”

“Oh,” he said. “At a ticket counter?”

“No, not at a ticket counter. On an airplane,” she said.

“So you’re like a stewardess,” he said, a lecherous smile gracing his face. “You’re one of them coffee, tea, or me gals, huh?”

For the first time since he sat down, Pam looked at him. “No, I’m not a flight attendant,” she said. “I’m a pilot.”

“A pilot? Really?” James said. “You fly one of them little puddle-jumper planes, huh?”

“No, not a commuter plane,” Pam said. “I am a pilot on a large jet, actually.”

“Yeah right,” James laughed. “And I’m the CEO of Microsoft.” He reached out and placed his hand over hers. “Listen, pretty lady, my flight out tonight has been cancelled due to bad weather, so how about we spend some time together, you and me? I don’t want any coffee or tea, but I sure would like to get a taste of you.”

The man sitting on the other side of Pam stood up and walked over to where James was sitting. “Listen, pal,” he said to James, “The woman you’re talking to is Captain Pamela Schaefer and she is the pilot of a Boeing 737 Max jet aircraft.”

“Well whoop-de-do,” James said. “And who the fuck are you, buckaroo?”

“Me?” the man said. “My name is John Schaefer. I’m an astronaut and I also happen to be her husband. So yippee-ki-yay, motherfucker, you’d best take wing before I put you in orbit.”

Written for this week’s Stream of Consciousness Saturday prompt from Linda G. Hill. Our assignment is to use “coffee, tea, or me” in our post or to find a flirty phrase of our own.

SoCS — Go Figure

72A5D008-A092-4623-B02B-7D7647CF59DC“You see that young lady over there?” Jake asked his buddy, Steve.

“You mean that hot redhead sitting at the end of the bar?” Steve responded.

“Yeah, the one with the amazing figure,” Jake said.

“So, what about her?” Steve asked.

“Well, I figure that she’s gonna wind up in my bed tonight,” Jake bragged.

“Oh yeah?” said Steve. “How do you figure that?”

“I’m a master at picking up chicks in bars,” Jake said. “Watch and learn my friend.” And with that, Jake walked over to the redhead and introduced himself. “My name is Jake, sweetheart,” he said. “Can I buy you a drink?” he asked her.

She looked up at Jake. “I don’t know,” she said. “Can you?”

Jake chuckled. “Sorry, gammar girl, may I buy you a drink?”

“Sure, why not?” she said. “An appletini.”

“An appletini, huh?” Jake said. “Yeah, that figures.” Jake snapped his fingers to get the bartender’s attention. “An appletini for the lady and a vodka martini for me. Shaken not stirred,” he added.

The bartender rolled his eyes and went off to make the drinks. Jake turned back to the redhead. “With a figure like yours, honey, you must be a model. Am I right?”

“Well, I’m not a model but I am good with figures,” she said. “I’m an economist.”

“That’s impressive,” Jake said. “I’d never have figured you to be an economist. I have some money to invest. Can you give me any good tips?”

The bartender came over and set the drinks down in front of Jake and the woman. “Start a tab, barkeep,” Jake said.

“You want some good tips?” she said. “Okay, here’s a tip for you. Don’t walk up to a woman at a bar and call her ‘sweetheart’ and ‘honey.’ And if you figured you were going to get me to sleep with you tonight, you figured wrong. So thanks for the appletini. Now run back to your friend over there and tell him you blew it.”

The redhead sucked down the rest of her appletini and walked out of the bar. Jake dropped two twenties on the bar and headed back to the table where Steve was sporting a big grin. A dejected Jake sat down and Steve said, “I figure things didn’t go quite the way you figured they would.”

“Yeah,” Jake said, shaking his head. “Go figure.”

Written for today’s Stream of Consciousness Saturday prompt from Linda G. Hill. Linda asked us to “Use the word ‘figure’ any way you’d like.”

#100WW — The Pool Party

Empty pool chairs“Everything for tonight’s pool party is set.” Harry said. “The caterer is on the way, the bar has been stocked with plenty of beer, wine, and liquor.”

“I’ve set up all of the deck chairs,” Harry’s wife, Donna, said, “and the DJ has confirmed that he’ll be arriving no later than seven this evening.”

“Great,” Harry said. “Now all we have to do is relax and wait until our guests start to arrive.”

Suddenly a look of panic flashed across Donna’s face. “Harry, you did remember to send out the invitations, right?”

“Me? I thought you sent them out, Donna!”

(100 words)

Written for today’s 100 Word Wednesday prompt from Bikurgurl. Photo credit: Bikurgurl.

#100WW — Behave Yourself


“You need to behave yourself when we go inside, do you understand?” Beth said.

“Are you still bellyaching about my gaffe at the Zenith Grill yesterday?” Danny asked.

“Gaffe? You and I have very different definitions of that word, Danny. What you did was breathtaking, and not in a good way.”

“Oh come on, Beth. You expect me to tiptoe on velvet around you, don’t you?”

“You know, if I were a man I’d belt you one,” Beth said.

“Fine,” Danny said. “I’ll behave myself, Beth. Let’s grab a few beers, some grub, and enjoy the rest of the day.”

(100 words)

Written for today’s 100 Word Wednesday prompt from Bikurgurl. Also for these daily prompts: Fandango’s One-Word Challenge (gaffe), Your Daily Word Prompt (zenith), Weekly Prompts (definitions), Ragtag Daily Prompt (breathtaking), Word of the Day Challenge (velvet), and The Daily Spur (belt).

Twittering Tales — My New Bar

352C2F55-CA2F-4D45-9C71-B8528D3EE771“So what are you going to call your new bar?” David asked.

“This Is It,” Ben said.

“This is what?” David asked.

“My new bar.”

“You’re calling your new bar ‘My New Bar’?”

“No. This Is It!”

“Fine, if you don’t want to tell me, don’t. I can never get a straight answer out of you, anyway.”

(280 characters)

Written for Kat Myrman’s Twittering Tales prompt. Photo credit: Johnathan Basquez at