Author: Nick Scipio
Title: Straight Up
Universe: Flash
Summary: The very first Jazz Club story.
Keywords: MF, flash
Revision: 1.0
Web Site: http://www.nickscipio.com/
FTP Site: ftp://ftp.nickscipio.com/
Discussion Forum: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/Scipio_Forum/

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                       STANDARD DISCLAIMER

This piece of fiction is intended as ADULT entertainment. It 
contains material of an adult, explicit, SEXUAL nature. If you 
are offended by sexually explicit content or language, please DO 
NOT read any further.

All characters in this story are fictitious; any similarity to 
any persons, places, individuals or situations is purely 
coincidental. The author does not necessarily condone or endorse 
any of the activities described in this story.

This story may not be reproduced in any form for profit without 
the written permission of the author, Nick Scipio 
(nick_scipio@yahoo.com). This story may be freely distributed 
with this disclaimer attached.

Copyright (c) 2002-2005 Nick Scipio. All rights reserved.

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Straight Up
by Nick Scipio
(298 words)

We were in a downstairs martini bar, something with a number for 
a name, too posh to bother with anything more than a simple 
address.

Gabriel and I, and the two girls, were sitting in the round booth 
in the back corner. The girls weren't _with_ us, but they were 
with us. Friends. From work. Simple. Right?

Gabriel was complaining, for the umpteenth time, about how he 
couldn't meet a girl. He wanted petite, slim, eighteen to twenty-
five. Sugar baby material.

I told him he was trying to hit the ball out of the park on his 
first at bat, after his wife of twenty years left him.

The girls agreed.

I said I'd be happy to offer him some advice. I was still in the 
game, and ten years younger.

Another round of drinks, the conversation turned and skipped, but 
would always return to Gabriel and his problems. He's an only 
child. You know how it is.

"Look, Gabe, I'll show you," I said.

The four of us quickly sketched out the rules, and the waitress 
agreed to be the judge. A cute cocktail waitress in a tony 
martini bar? Petite. Slim. Eighteen to twenty-five. She'd 
probably heard it all.

Gabriel spoke into her ear. She smiled politely, then turned to 
me.

I pulled her close, to be heard over the pulse of the jazz band, 
and said my thing. She nodded. She'd heard it all before. Right?

She smiled at me and then shrugged at Gabriel.

The next round of drinks, she slipped a folded cocktail napkin 
into my hand. I covertly peeled it open, under the level of the 
table.

_Were you serious?_

I spotted her across the crowded bar, holding her eyes with my 
own. I stood and nodded.

She walked toward me, smiling.

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Copyright (c) 2002-2005 Nick Scipio. All rights reserved.