In one of my locals, there was an exceptionally attractive young barmaid. She was smart, and funny, and hot as Hades. Just admitting that makes me feel like a dirty old man, but it’s what my y chromosomes make me. At least I had enough sense to stand well back. Unlike one of the other customers.
He was no spring chicken, but not of my mature standing in life, and he was smitten. Discovering she was going to be working over Christmas, he made a bit of a schoolboy error, told her he didn’t want her to be doing that, and offered her a ton and a half so she could afford to take the time off, and go to visit her parents in Brighton. So far, no harm no foul, but we all suspected an ulterior motive. He was on a loser there, since we also suspected her heart (and other bits) belonged to another.
She took the dosh, and disappeared in the run-up to what people insist on referring to as the ‘festive season.’ The next thing we knew was that she was spotted in the background of a selfie taken by the bloke she was enamoured with, and whom we knew to be in Bulgaria at the time.
I don’t approve of stealing, but if you’re daft enough to give a really hot 18-year-old 150 notes, you pretty well have to expect something less than open, don’t you?