Page 25 of Sir, Yes Sir

Heather: Morgan’s bar and grill. Hot guys like sports.

Sara: A sports bar? Yuck!

Heather: Boys or dancing. You have to pick one or the other.

Vicky: Boys. Freya’s not the only one who needs a good lay.

A long series of emojis of eggplants, peaches, and laughing faces rolled through my screen before they all eventually agreed.

A night with my girls was what I needed, and if I was really lucky, maybe a little sex to take the edge off of my need for a certain Marine.

“I blame you,” Sara said, leaning against her fist on the sticky table at the back of the bar.

While Heather had been right about all the guys being at the sports bar, what she hadn’t considered was that the guys there weren’t out prowling for a girl for the night. The place was a riot because evidently it was a big football Sunday, and everything stank of beer and fried chicken wings. Overall, it felt like a whole wasted evening until about eight o’clock when the game was finally over and some fresh blood strolled in.

A boisterous group of what looked like college boys came in through the door and settled down at the table just over from us. They’d been lucky to get a spot at all, but a couple of what were probably family men hurried out as soon as the game was over.

“Eh?” Heather none-too-stealthily nudged her head towards the guys.

I observed, then shrugged as the guys zeroed in on us in return.

“I vote we have a bet on who gets the balls to come over first,” Vicky said, a smirk tilting her red-painted lips.

“Oh, it’s going to be blondie for sure,” Heather put in. “But who for?”

Sara looked over the younger guys and I watched her eyes float from one to the other until she settled, satisfied, on the tall, dark and handsome guy at the end.

“There’s one extra,” Vicky pointed out. “We leaving one out or is someone taking two?”

I scoffed at the idea. There was no way in hell it was going to be me!

“You’re making assumptions that they’ll even like us,” I pointed out.

Vicky gave me a deadpan look. “They’re men. They don’t exactly think with the head on their shoulders.”

I disagreed, but shut up, anyway. There was no way I’d be able to convince Vicky that there was more to men than their penis and bank account, but I digress.

My thoughts were interrupted when, sure enough, the blonde guy got up and swaggered over with balls of steel.

“Hey,” he drawled, eyes locked on Sara, which was a shame because she’d already decided on the guy at the end.

“Yes, you can approach, but we’ll require a round of shots, and stop staring at Sara because you have no chance with her. ”

If the guy was surprised, he didn’t show it. Instead he focused on Vicky who'd spoken and gave her a smirk.

“How about we let the darts decide who gets the shots?” he said straight to her face, issuing a challenge she couldn’t resist.

Heather giggled while Vicky stood, her chair screeching back on the tile, hands planted on the table.

“You’re on,” she growled, turning on her heel then storming to the dart board across from the bar.

The guy straightened and hurried after her, which made Heather chortle harder while Sara’s eyes landed on the guy at the end again.

“You might as well join us,” she said in her practiced bored tone.

The guys didn’t wait. They hurried out of their seats and joined our table, dragging some chairs along to stuff into any available space around us.

“I’m Luke,” one said, a handsome guy with dark blonde hair and a bright smile. “What’re your names?”

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