This man looked like he was over twenty-five. He could buy a drink for her. "Sure, sweetheart," he said, smiling.
And as simple as cheese melting on toasted bread, Logan ordered her a shot of whatever it was in that small cup, or glass, or something that looked like a portion cup in her dental practice. Evonne immediately started to question whether that brown murky liquid was alcohol at all.
She picked up the small portion cup in her hand and turned it about, eyeing it at close quarters. "Are you sure that's alcohol? It sure looks murky," Evonne asked Logan. Logan simply smiled, then replied, "It's spirit, sweetheart. Drink up."
"Why is it not purple like in the Bunsen burner?" Evonne queried. "It's spirit, sweetheart. Now drink it up." He confirmed and then urged again. Looking at her cellphone, she had but thirty seconds left before midnight hit.
Not thinking any further, but with one mission to accomplish before Cinderella had to leave her glass slipper behind, she chunked the whole contents down in one go…
and my oh my, did she regret it, because at that very moment, her eyes watered, her breath caught, her face bloomed red, and all she wanted to do was one thing—spit that disgusting liquid right back out. But twenty seconds, dear heaven, twenty seconds to go before midnight struck.
She could hold it in. Yes, she could. Logan, who was on the other side of the scene, observed her face blowing up like a pufferfish, her cheeks bowed out and her eyes bulging as if she were holding the drink inside her mouth.
Surprised, he suggested, "Drink it up. Don't hold it like that." All Evonne could do was shake her head vigorously. Her eyes stung furiously as jets of tears streamed down her cheeks, the alcohol in her oral cavity burning her alive. The foul liquid continued to kill her taste buds one by one, her mouth becoming numb.
Feeling sick to her core, she couldn't contain the liquid anymore. Thirty or not, spinsters or not, she didn't want to die just yet. If she didn't do something fast to rid herself of this foul burning liquid in her mouth, she would surely meet her maker.
So out it went. She spits out the entire shot, in the process of spraying a stream in Logan's direction, who now sat facing her with a mixture of spirit and saliva all over his face and shirt. And for the second time that night, Logan's libido deflated once more.
***
CH4
A thousand bulldozers could not compare to the stomping headache that was drilling inside Logan's head as he was forced to peel open his eyes when the sunlight leaking through the light curtain became too bright to bear early the next morning.
"Bloody Virgin Mary, help me!" He groaned while massaging his temple to dispel the ache. "Virgin Mary will help you if you ask her politely," a female voice whispered seductively in his ear. "Lord Lord!" he blared, jerking up from bed, startled at seeing an unknown woman beside him, clad only in bedsheets.