[Mr Insanity]
I brought Bertha.
There wasn’t really anything "special" behind this decision; she was just another stripper-slash-college student that seems to come standard issue with a Platinum card.
Still, she was magnetically attractive, unpredictably sweet, and my current favorite.
She liked to show off her legs, and the dress she wore did not disappoint; the slit in the side stopped just under her muscular hips. I must say, she was the showstopping eye-candy of the entire night. Further, Bertha seemed to require less drinking to tolerate listening to -for a stripper-slash-college student her age.
And I wasn’t the only one that noticed.
Phoebe -sitting with us by virtue of a seating fluke- and I slam Wild Turkey for hours, while the charming Bertha nursed whiskey sours.
I like how they taste on her breath.
I slow down a little when it dawns on me how well Phoebe and Bertha are getting along. Lingering stares, affectionate giggles ... I’m almost surprised when they don’t go together when Bertha excuses herself for the bathroom.
But Phoebe was clocking me.
“Wow, Mr I,” says Phoebe, with a strange, electrically charged look on her face. “I’m really impressed!”
“We’re not,” I smile, “competing over the same girl, are we?”
Phoebe pauses, calculating. “Of course not,” she says. “But she’s fucking hot.”
“Look,” I says abruptly, shutting the door to my office. I grab the entire bottle of bourbon from the bar. “It’s very hot watching you two flirt. But our colleagues are at this party.” I focus on Phoebe, “That whole dance floor scene—“
