At least she hopes he will. He is leaning over the bar talking to a younger, skinnier woman and barely acknowledges her wave. She knows that she isn’t skinny or petite like the most of the girls in the bar, but she likes to think that she is attractive enough. “Thick, not fat.” That was what her best friend, Candy, always said to her. The club music pounds from the speakers and for the umpteenth time tonight, she wonders why in the world she let Candy talk her into coming to this club. A night at home with her favorite television show or a good book and a bottle of wine would have suited her just fine. For a full five minutes, she stands by the bar waiting for the bartender to serve her, but he just keeps talking to the same woman at the opposite end of the bar. She is beginning to get discouraged when a handsome man steps up beside her and gives her a wink. As he looks for the bartender, Shelly takes a chance to look him over and likes what she sees. He is tall and judging from his arms, well-muscled.
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