Photo credit @ Ted Strutz
“Let’s just say I’m a girl. You can imagine that can’t you?”
The gossamer threads left very little to his imagination but he nodded in reply taking the dancer in his arms.
“Mind if I lead? I’m a traditional guy. You can imagine that can’t you?”
Its narrow shoulders shook, the laughter was human enough.
“Buy me a drink? The bot isn’t much for conversation but he knows what I like.”
It dipped a pink tongue into the gin and asked, “Why this watering hole?”
“I took a wrong turn at the third moon. You?”
For more Friday Fictioneers bar tales or bizarre tails check out Rochelle Wisoff-Fields’ website.