From beneath the brim of her floppy 1950's vintage film noir hat Bonnie surveyed the room. Who would she chose? She was in no hurry to decide- the chase was the reward for Bonnie, what came at the end, mere icing. Her almond shaped eyes slowly took in a likely prospect, a tall fortyish stranger with a well tailored suit, and well cared for body. He had the kind of eyes she liked, the kind that focused solely on her.
"Buy a girl a drink, Mister?" Bonnie didn't purr, but her alto voice had a tremolo that definitely catlike.
"I see a woman I'd buy a distillery for - no girl." He pointed to his glass and held up two fingers to the barman. "Matt, Matt Walker, and what do they call you when you're at home?"
"They don't have to call Matt. I just appear out of thin air. The air in here is a little thick. Down your drink and let's go someplace where you can make me comfortable."
The place was Matt's apartment and the comfort was mutual. By morning Bonnie walked out in a well tailored suit and tall rangy body. Matt was left trying to work out the mysteries of garter belts.
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