Mai Tai

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He leans back in the booth across from me, folds his hands on the table in front of him, and quirks his brow.

Weeelllll, he drawls in a smirkingly mock-stern tone, What do you have to say for yourself?

I lean forward and use my lips, awkward-fish style, to find the straw that will allow me to sip my lunch.  Having successfully coated my throat with the sweet liquid, I adopt as authoritative voice as I can muster, and answer his challenge.

Clearly and concisely.

I.  Have.  Cleavage.

The waiter who overheard this exchange managed not to dump a plate of curry all over his patron’s lap.

But just barely.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

This is what happens when Feve drinks.


0 thoughts on “Mai Tai

    1. Mrs Fever Post author

      I sort of need a keeper when I get tipsy. Shortly after my liquid lunch, I was slurring words via text whilst wandering through a bookstore.

      Me: I lost Zmotcb.
      BF: You… Lost… Smotch?

      Turns out he was not lost; only temporarily misplaced. 😉


      We’d have fun, buzzy one. Guaranteed. 😀


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