Charlie Weston, the barkeep, was young but sympathetic with everyone's problems. He knew me as pretty much always in my cups and mostly in a melanchol... state; ergo, he almost always threatened to take my keys if I had more than two drinks. I loved Charlie. He was caring."This is it or you're getting a cab," said Charlie."No problem, I'll be heading out in a few," I said. He nodded and went back to grinding glassware with his towel.I finished my third shot, threw a ten spot on the bar—the drinks. She blushed. Before he could admonish her, she quickly added, ?Please,? in a softer tone. After another pause, she gritted out, ?Sir.?He must have leaned down from her blind side because suddenly his lips were almost touching her ear as he said, softly, ?I know.?It was such a stupid, obvious thing to say. Of course he knew that was what she wanted—why else would she be in such a ridiculous, humiliating position? Hadn’t he just forced her to ask for it?But something about the way he’d said. More

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