Amy and Julie met at Rick’s bar, an institution that was famous for its happy hour, and the effect it had on facilitating the testosterone-estrogen interaction.  They both wore short skirts and heels because they could and they looked good especially when they posed at the front on high bar stools.

“Kinda quiet here,” said Julie

“Don’t worry.  It’ll pick up.  Especially if we’re here.”  They both giggled simultaneously.

“Classic crossed-leg man bait,” said Julie. “Works every time.”

Julie slurped a margarita while Amy sucked on her Vodka martini.

So Amy, what hot guy are you with now?  Or are you trying to sink your nails into someone with more long-term potential?”

“Ya know Julie, sometimes I just take a hot lover for fun, but when I find a good man with money and power – he won’t get away.”

Julie almost meowed.  “Poor guy won’t know how to escape once your nails are inside his naïve skin. What will it be tonight?”

“Depends on what rolls in the door.  But seriously, there is someone that I think might be the one.”

“Do tell.”

“Ok. He’s about six-two, blue eyes, nice body with a scar over his left eyebrow that I find easy to ignore.  Oh yeah, nice smile too.  Amy beamed.  She played with her silky hair and re-crossed her legs while scanning the male occupants of the room.  “But the problem is…

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