“You look like someone who’s down on his luck,” came a sultry voice from beside me.
I lifted an eyebrow and turned to look, my other hand instinctively grabbing my Mark II blaster. With one glance at the woman standing there, my grip on the weapon relaxed, though my grip on the bottle didn’t.
“You might say that,” I told her and looked back to the front, where I could surreptitiously watch her in the mirror behind the bar. Her light brown skin was held tight in place by a white dress that showed far more than it covered.
She was forward, I’d give her that much. “How would you like your luck to change?”
I stared in disbelief, not entirely sure whether I wanted to ask how. Part of me was intrigued by the possibilities, but the other part reminded me over and over again that nothing good usually happened when I met pretty women in unfamiliar places.
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