Even in those heels she was a little on the short side, but that was okay.Even in those heels she was a little on the short side, but that was okay. She had one of those slicked back hair-do's that always make me think of Liza Minelli, but on her it was cute. Sort of punkish. I've always been a sucker for a pretty face, too, and hers was: sort of round, big brown eyes, a little nose - I seem to always run to type, you know? Big tits. It was impossible not to notice, because her shirt was open pretty far down. I guess she was proud of them. Hell, I would have been, if she were my girlfriend. There was a rail around the dance floor, to give people somewhere to stand, I guess, and not look too out of it. I saw the girl and her two companions move toward the dance floor and she slid into a space at the rail while the others went onto the floor. Why not give it a whirl, I thought, so I walked up to her and said hey. She looked at me a little suspiciously for a moment, but at least she said "hi" back. I had no idea what kind of voice she had, it was impossible to hear anything so near to the speakers which were making my internal organs do an involuntary polka. When you go to a lot of dance bars you learn how to lip read pretty well. I stood next to her for a moment and watched her drink her drink. It was even hotter near the dance floor, I guess because of the lights; a thin line of perspiration was on her upper lip, and the nape of her neck was damp. Her shirt, which was just thin cotton, was beginning to mold to her body in a really interesting way. Every once in a while she would fan her face with her hand. She had pretty hands, sort of petite, with short fingernails and rings on every finger. |