Bridget sighed, despairing for her adopted countrymen. Before her was a half-full bottle of Jameson, a chipped ashtray brimming with butts and ash, an... a damply empty glass. The red-haired lass fixed the glass’s fault, and stared down balefully with her green eyes at the letter set down before her on the warped wood of the wobbly table. It was then that a cantankerous old fool with a tobacco-stained beard slurred a come-on at her. Bridget flashed a sharp-toothed grimace at the man, who blinked. He gave a half smile and introduced himself. The party was fun and as things wound down it was just a few girls from their office remaining. The only guys left were the host and I. He asked if I liked cigars as he was an aficionado. I replied I did enjoy the odd cigar but was not well versed in the practice.He told the remaining guests we were going to go have a cigar on the balcony off of his bedroom, and to please excuse us for a few minutes. I was fairly drunk and a few naughty thoughts. More

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