09-06-2012, 05:08 AM
Im playing with fire.
Lewis could see the change in her facial expressions, her eyes seemed brighter, her posture less tense, her smile genuine.
I don’t care if I burn.
He watched her walk away, O’Harron had a great eye for women. She was attractive, but nothing Lewis would have wrote home about. In the early stages of his political career he wooed every pretty girl he met, some how he managed to avoid scandal after scandal. Reporters never seemed to hound him like other politicians. The closest he ever came to a scandal was at a beauty pageant he was a judge at. The winner was the contestant he was sleeping with. The woman lost her crown when the story broke and later committed suicide, yet after 5 minute with the reporter Lewis’ name was never released to the public.
I can’t be burnt
Why then was he so enthralled with this server. The more he thought about it the less it made sense. Lewis had no real urge to sleep with her, he wasn’t sure what he wanted her for. Something in the back of his mind wanted her and lust had nothing to do with it. He could see the red of her hair at the bar. The sight of the smoky room with red towering over green reminded him of memories deep inside his brain.
I will not be burnt
Lewis saw the bartender reach for the top shelf, he could make out the blue label on the scotch, not his favourite brand, but good enough.
Scotch will help.
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