Hotel California

A loud Australian voice behind me shouted "If she asks you to buy her a drink tell her to fuck off!!!"

I turned in my bar stool and saw a thin middle aged Pakistani looking man. His pointy rat face with greasy course black hair looked sinister and deviant. His long arrow of a nose divided his greasy overgrown moustache.

Could the voice had been his? I expected a cruel whispery voice from such a man. If it was him who was he talking to? Not the red lipsticked Indonesian girl sitting next to him with fatty flesh squeezing from her tiny red dress.

Smooth soft spider legs rubbed against mine. I turned to see a pretty face with eyes that had the power to see the strong primal sensations she was sending through me. Hotel California played just loud enough for an excuse to talk closely.