On my way from the barkeep to the patron hungry eyes clung to my hips and tail like leeches. The lighting dimmed so all the gold ornaments had a chance to glow with the warm spectral light. “Zeke’s Gate House” was famous for this special feature. Gold without alloy shined like bioluminescent creatures bursting into sparks. The upbeat music softened, changed rhythm and lowered in volume as soon as I approached the end of the curved counter. I flashed my best smile at the thin male Terran and brought him his 8th Old Fashioned. He kept the drinks coming, tipped more than generously. Patrons like him were my favorite. Hopefully, he had more on his mind than getting drunk. His hand connected with my lower back, before he even looked me in the face.
Jackpot!
“Come, keep me company for the last one,” he smiled back. Oh, this went smoothly. Zeke, my owner, had plans for this man. By his gleeful look, the plans were deadly. “Your wish is my command.” He downed the drink I just brought him and signaled the bartender. “Tell me a sad story, gorgeous.” He took the ice sphere left in the glass and rubbed it to his temple. “Even if it comes with solace?” I purred. He smiled tiredly, took his hand from my lower back.
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