So whan I saw I might nat slepe
Til now late this other night,
Upon my bed I sat upright
And bad oon reche me a book,
A romaunce …


This time she has come right to your table. The fact that you are still here, still watching, has apparently satisfied some shibboleth for further acquaintanceship.

“Another drink?”

“Just a fruit juice. You really like to watch me dance, don’t you?”

“Well, yes, I’m afraid I do. You’re just so terribly beautiful.”

“But you like it when I bend over and flip up my negligée too, don’t you, and there’s nothing beautiful about that.”

“I do like that.”

“Are you going to stay?”

“I don’t know. Look, to be honest, what I’d really like to do is to buy you a cup of coffee, or take you out to dinner. Not necessarily tonight, but some time.”

“No, sorry.”


“I’m not like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like one of those girls who sleeps with guys.”

“I didn’t mean like that. Just a cup of coffee.”

“But you want to sleep with me, don’t you?”

“Even if I did I’m sure you’ve got a boyfriend already. I’d really be more interested in just having a talk.”

“Are you bisexual?”

“Why do you ask?”

“Most guys just want to sleep with me, not do any talking first.”

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