Into The Sunset

     "More of the same, hon?"

     I looked up from where I had been staring off into the distance. The bartender was short, a little plump, and muscular enough to make me certain she could suplex a bear.

     "Sure," I said. I had some money left.

     As she filled up another glass with what the locals refer to as 'gutpunch', I scanned the room and took note of tonight's clientele. The place was almost entirely empty; there was a huge guy in the corner drinking from a keg-sized mug, a reptiloid sitting at the other end of the bar, and a guy in a military-issue spacesuit. The bar girls who normally milled around had mostly all retired for the night, as it was getting pretty late. I guess they figured those of us left weren't interested in what they had to offer. The few who were still up wiped tables and swept the floor.

     "Thanks, Fran," I said, as the bartender placed the glass of cheap alcohol next to me. She winked, then moved away and started to clean glasses with a rag at her belt.

     I was a regular here; had been since I landed on this rock. It was quiet most of the time, and any fights hardly ever grew to include the whole bar. Those that did tended to be ended pretty quick. Busting heads happened to be one of Fran's specialties.

     I was an odd-job man, myself. I took work where I could find it, and a little more of it was of questionable legality than I'd care to admit. Money was money.

      Suddenly, hands slid across my shoulders and over my chest, and before I had time to react I felt hot breath on the side of my face.

     "Hey there, sugar," a silky voice breathed into my ear. It sounded like pure, unadulterated sex.

     I turned my head to look at the girl now sitting on the stool next to me. She was very attractive, wearing a bright red skirt, black and white striped stockings, and a low cut blouse that didn't leave much to the imagination. She had a pale complexion, big dark eyes, and broad, black tiger stripes that ran down her arms and the back of her neck and in between her shoulders. I might have wondered how far they went, if I hadn't seen the rest of it myself. They went all the way down.

     "Clarissa," I said.

     She flashed me a big, pearly grin. I couldn't help but notice, as I had before, the size of her canines. Love bites from Clarissa hurt.

     "You know," she said, her fingers dancing across the top of my thigh, "I was over there sweeping the floor and I saw you sitting all alone at the bar, and I thought to my little old self, why don't I just come over and say hi."

     I knew what she wanted, but I had other plans for the night. They wouldn't be as enjoyable, but they were unavoidable.

     "I don't have any time tonight, Clarissa," I told her bluntly. I didn't have the money, either, but she didn't need to know that.

     She pouted with mock disappointment. "But Jack, honey," her fingers moved towards my inner thigh and her voice poured out from between her lips like liquid gold. "You know I can give you a time like you've never had before."

     "Look, I'm sorry," I said. "I've got more important things to do right now."

     Her flirtatious demeanor dropped, and she gave me a look of frustrated seriousness.

     "You know, I bust my ass in this joint day in and day out, servicing rocket jockeys," she said in an exasperated tone, "but whenever I'm in the mood, nobody wants any. Care to explain that to me?"

     "I'm sorry," I said again, taking a swig of the gutpunch. It tasted like battery acid and broken dreams, but if there was a faster way to get drunk, I wasn't aware of it. "I can't help you out."