Red Riding Hood sat down at the bar and undid the clasps on her cloak, let it fall loose around her shoulders and over the bar stool.
The bartender whistled.
“Rosie, for a show like that, I’m gonna stand you a drink!” he said, and stared at the bright red lace bra – and the cleavage – while he mixed a cocktail. “There you go!” he said, winking, “A Screaming Orgasm – just the way you like it!”
Red Riding Hood smiled, picked the straw from the drink and licked it, displaying an impressive length of pink tongue.
“Thanks, Tony,” she said, “You know, if the rules were different…”
Tony nodded, a little sadly, and smiled. “Thanks.”
She sighed, and sipped the Screaming Orgasm – which was exactly the way she liked it. No cream, heavy on the Kahlua and vodka. She was more in the mood to down three tequilas and shag someone on the dance floor… but that never ended well.
Roger roared up to the nightclub and slid to a stop inches from the red velvet rope. The trolls looked at him, unperturbed.
“You wanna valet, Rog?”
“Sure do, Bob.”
The troll pressed a button on what looked like a bulky wristwatch, and held out his large paw. The other one snickered suddenly.
“Did someone beat up the big bad wolf already?”
“Just a little pre-party party, Han my man…”
Roger handed over the keys and sauntered inside.
“Tony! My man! Bourbon and coke, hold the coke!”
Tony laughed dutifully and handed over a double shot of bourbon on ice.
Roger downed it in two gulps, then clenched his teeth and shook his head as the burn hit his throat.
“God, that’s better,” he said, “Tony! Another, dude, a double – on the double!”
Tony clenched his teeth but grinned, reminding himself that this job paid up big and gave him a chance to practice his acting skills, and that was a good thing. Even if he did have to toady to the arsewipes.
Two double bourbons later, Roger was starting to feel the edge come off. The usual stress and strain, the panic when the stupid bint stepped out in front of him… it was all starting to soften and move away. Better. And now he’d better stop, or at least switch to something less disabling, or picking up wouldn’t do him a bit of good tonight.