Recommend Blogs: CAM CRUSH looked at the expression on my face. Taking hold of my hand she informed me in a hurt tone that she wasn't a hooker. She was lonely tonight and she didn't want to be alone.
Shortly, the owner entered the bar to count the til and the Young black man who'd entered with him began the nightly cleanup.
Jean took off her apron, told the owner goodnight and grabbing my hand, pulled me out the door.
Standing under the neon sign I put my white hat on and looked up at the flashing yellow horse just as the bossman turned the sign off for the night. If you want to know the bar was called the Golden Stallion.
Jean once again took hold of my hand as we headed for wherever home was.