The drive back home was uneventful, until we got into the parking lot.

“Bill”, Ginny and I will let you be a gentleman and open the door for
your two ladies of the evening…okay??”

“Sure honey”, I answered….wondering what my wife had in mind now. She
was usually out of the car before me.

And with that, Karla was at the bar, ordering the drinks. My wife was
some sly fox. As she was waiting for the drinks, she accidently dropped
a bar napkin on the woman’s lap.

“Oh I’m sorry, so clumsy of me”. she told the lady.

“Oh….that’s all right Miss…..I’m a little drunk and still thirsty
but the bartender won’t serve me anymore’, the woman replied.

“Oh what a shame”, Karla said as she put her hand on the other woman’s
shoulder, “would you like one of these manhattans I’m getting?” “You
could come back to the table with my huband and me, and the bartender
will never know”.

“Really, you wouldn’t mind?”, the woman replied.

“Sure, let me help you over to the table……aah what was your name?”
Karla asked as I watched her very secretly let her hand fall from the
woman’s shoulder and lightly feel her breast as she did.

As our eyes became adjusted to the dim light, Karla was the one that
first noticed Ginny sitting alone at the bar. She was plainly dressed
in a blue blouse, white skirt, and matching white heels. When I turned
to see why Karla was so interested I saw that this woman’s skirt was
hiked up well above her knees and about half way up her thighs, in other
words she was showing a hell of alot of leg. Karla and I also both noticed
that she seemed a little drunk, seeming to lose her balance now and then
while sitting on the bar stool.

Lisa and her husband owned a restaurant/nightclub in my
neighborhood; I’d first wandered in there shortly after they’d
opened the place, and I soon became a “regular.” Regular enough
that, on occasion when the Maitre d’ hadn’t arrived, Lisa would
ask me help out, seating guests, etc. Or Stan, her husband, might
ask me if I’d run out to a supermarket when the kitchen suddenly
found they’d run out of some vital item. I sometimes helped them
close up, or on a slow night, might help out in the office, running
spreadsheets, or laying out a menu or promotional mailing (I was
far more computer-literate than they, and a far better editor,
although Lisa was trained as a graphic artist.) In fact, it was
that sort of collaboration that probably led to our first
flirtation.