It gradually dawned on me that the barmaid was spending altogether too much time at our end of the bar and seemed to be retrieving endless glasses fro... under it, her face at counter top level. She wasn't really my type. A few years younger than me, with shoulder length coppery blonde hair held rigid with industrial grade hair spray. She wore more make up than I do, lips shiny with wet look lip gloss. Her gypsy style blouse, that left her shoulders bare left me in no doubt that her bust, rather. "Coke, please," I replied, giving her a look of my own with just my eyes and a tilt to my head.She started and quickly poured my drink, handed me my dinner, and moved on. I was more shocked than the look my dad turned on me. I was ten. What the hell could my face have said that made her go pale like she did?Daddy chuckled, but it didn't quite reach into his eyes. "Thank you for defending my honor, pumpkin," he joked, ruffling my hair. "I don't know what I would do without you."We landed at. More

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