Well we'd sunk quite a few by now and like I said this old dear was getting emotional and like a typical male I wanted out. But I'd got the beer fuzz,one of those warm tingly comforting reassuring hoods of security that tells you that more alcohol would be a good thing. As much as the mini-bar and Pay Per View porn was calling me from the hotel room,guilt, and the fact that I never really liked drinking alone,i waved a note and ordered more beverages.
My drinking partner rested a liver spotted hand on my wrist and whispered seductively, ''call me Avril.'' And I don't know whether it was that stage of inebriation where you somehow think you are the most amazingly handsome man in existence and could make almost any woman weak at the knees at any one of you humourous quips or charming smiles,and if you couldn't they most definately were lesbians,but I thought she was hitting on me. And I wasn't at all surprised to see that the lines she had running at the corners of her mouth making her look a little like a ventriloquist's dummy had smoothed over. I must've mistaken them before,some shadow,bad lighting or something but she was looking younger by the minute. As if by magic more booze appeared in front of us and there must have been some kind of Sci-Fi time lapse shit going on because before i'd so much as blinked it was drunk and fuck me if Avril didn't look like a dead ringer for Michelle Pfeiffer,and her neck,which was more exposed due to the opening of a few buttons,looked very very appealing.
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