I'm trying to post more FR's in here, I've got a few backlogged that I'll get to eventually, but this one is relatively recent and went quite well, so I wanted to post it first.

I had just finished working, it was the weekend, and getting late, but I had the following day off and wanted to do something after shooting for over ten hours, so I called a buddy of mine and it turned out him and a few of our friends were at a bar near the venue I had been shooting at. Awesome, I told him I'd be there in fifteen or so.

I walk in and survey the scene. Not so busy that it's packed, but by no means empty. Perfect. I don't have to yell at anyone to be heard, and there are enough people that I can float about and mingle/make friends with whomever I'd like.

Since I had just finished working, I was in, well, my work clothes, which means a suit and tie. I had ditched the jacket in my car, un-tucked the shirt, opened up my collar and loosened my tie. Sort of the disheveled business man look, I suppose. But my clothes are trendy/stylish/tailored/well fitting, and in a cozy little bar, this stands out against the sea of t-shirts and jeans.

I find my way over to my friends and notice that there isn't much there that I'm interested in as far as women go. Oh well, I figure, it'll be nice to have a drink and relax for a bit.

We all end up sitting down at a table after one of my buddies orders a round for us at the bar, smoking too many cigarettes and talking about inappropriate things. After some time, many glasses are empty and a cocktail waitress saunters on over. She asks if we need anything and of course we do. My friend who had a tab opened at the bar asks if she can put the order on that, to which she says no, and they discuss a way to work around it (closing his tab, re-opening it, etc.), at which point I hand her my credit card and tell everyone to order to make life easier. I tell her she's making this far more complicated than it needs to be however I appreciate the effort. She's incredibly cute, has a great smile, and looks like fun.

"What's your name hun?"

"I'm HB8, what about you?"

"Nice to meet you HB8, I'm Just, it's a pleasure. Sorry we're all a total pain in the ass over here. It's been a long day for most of us."

Everyone orders, I crack a couple jokes, we all laugh, and she runs off to grab our drinks.

Our conversation turns to sex and grooming, uh, down there. We're all close friends (two girls, three guys), with similar opinions, so I tell them that when the cocktail waitress comes back I'm going to get her opinion.

Shortly after, she returns with a tray full of cocktails. She drops a couple off at the table next to ours, and heads over our way. She empties our tray and asks if we need anything else.

"HB8, I need another opinion here. However, it's sort of a personal question, so if you're not comfortable talking about those kinds of things, then don't worry about it."

This clearly piqued her interest, and she immediately took a seat next to me, leaned over and said "I'm all ears."

"Alright, HB8, as a guy, I tend to keep everything well maintained below the belt. I figure it's a common courtesy. However, myself and my friends here have found that while many women do the same, it seems some take care of the front side of things, while neglecting the, uh, rear. You follow me?"

She throws her head back and laughs and tells us all about her grooming habits, and how she recently had a guy beg do go down on her.

"Beg you to do it? Don't get me wrong, going down on a girl is my personal national pass-time, but I'm only going to beg if your vagina shoots out winning lotto tickets every time I make you orgasm."

The whole table cracks up, including HB8.

The conversation continues along those lines for a couple more minutes, I manage to get her to lift her skirt and prove that her underwear matches her bra, and eventually, HB8 excuses herself to go have a smoke out back.

I look at my friends and tell them I am not leaving here without her number.

We move from our table to a comfy couch that became available, and before we knew it, it was last call. I crane my neck to find our lovely cocktail waitress, but don't see her. I want to go home. I'm tired and ready for bed. I get up and hunt her down by the bar. She's clearly busy closing everyone out, and almost runs right past me when I snag her by the waist and stop her in her tracks.

"HEY! I was totally just going to look for you!"

"Riiiiiiight. We moved over to the couches and haven't seen you since. The service is awful here and I'm never coming back"

I flash her a huge grin and she laughs.

"I swear I was just about to find you and then run your card! I promise!"

I take both of my hands and put them on her hips, and she immediately does the same to me.

"Listen, darling, I'm a busy man, I've got places to be. Let's get this done, don't make me call the manager over here."

I'm still grinning ear to ear and she goes dead serious.

"Ok," she says, "is that all? Is there anything else you want? Anything? Anybody? Anybody?"

I just stare at her, and go absolutely silent, waiting to see what else she's got to say. At this point I'd have to try to fuck this one up.

"I mean, if you really have a problem, you can take it up with me, right now, back in the alley, any way you want."

Damn. She's aggressive, and I love it.

"You know, hun," I tell her, "I think you talk a big game but you won't back it up."

She just smiles and says "I'll run your card and bring it over to you right away," and winks at me.

I head back over to where my friends are waiting for me. They're all closed out and ready to leave. I tell them that they don't have to wait for me as I drove alone and am now just waiting for her to bring my check to sign. I wanted to make sure I was alone when she came back for obvious reasons.

She takes entirely too long to get back to me with the check. I'm sitting on a couch and she doesn't hesitate to sit right next to me.

"You lag," I say.

"I know, I know, I'm really sorry, been dealing with these assholes on the other side of the bar. Seriously. I'm really sorry."

"I'll let it slide this time, but if it happens again, we're going to have words."

She smiles and tells me I can just be a jerk and not tip her. I just smile and sign my bill, leaving a decent tip. Nothing over the top, however.

"So," she says, "Am I ever going to see you again?"

"Well if you tell me that I have to come here to make that happen, then no. But you're not going to tell me that, you're going to give me your number and we're going to go out and make bad decisions very soon."

"I never, ever give out my number to anyone while I work. Ever."

She proceeds to open her little server book, grab an old receipt, and write down her name and number.

"Do you even remember my name?" she asks.

"[HB8], I don't forget the things I want."

"Well, Just, good to know. I've got to go. I better see you soon though."

"Don't worry, hun, you will."

And with that, I gave her a big hug and made my way out the door.

I rarely go for bartenders and cocktail waitresses as they get hit on all bloody night by a million guys, but this girl I couldn't pass up. She was incredibly good looking and had that almost bitchy, I-know-I'm-hot attitude that I really love. Once I realized there was no way I'd get shot down, it was basically a no brainer as long as I didn't seriously shove my foot in my mouth.