The Bar

Brittany had taken Santana to her favorite bar for an early birthday present. (the real present would come much later in the night.)

A good looking guy, in his mid twenties, approached them, turned towards Santana, and said, "Hey babe, can I buy you a drink?"

Santana didn't even bat an eye, and replied, "I'm here with someone else."

He was persistent. "I don't see any guys hanging around you. Come one. One drink."

Brittany reached over and tapped him on the shoulder.

"Whadda want?" He asked in a frustrated tone, while turning away from this beauty. He saw Brittany looking between him and the Santana, and he realized who the girl was here with, and he started laughing.

Brittany, taking advantage of his body still turned towards her slightly, said, "Im sorry, but what, exactly is so funny?"

The bar light wasn't to great, so the man was shaded, but enough light to tell he was good looking was there. His attitude suggested he was always the person who got what he wanted all the time.

"I FIND it funny that she is here with YOU. I mean, look at you. Trampy clothes, bleach blonde hair, you look like a dumb slut." And with that he promptly turned back to one mortified Santana, "So what will it be, babe. A night with me, or drinks with her."

Just as Santana was about to respond with some version of, "Please feel free to fuck off, and leave us alone." He felt another tap on his shoulder.

"Whaaaaaaaaaat!" He said, while turning around. But to his surprise, his face was met with a fist, which just so happened to be attached to the 'Tramp with bleach blonde hair.' Her next words were another form of punch: "So you were at the part of getting the fuck out?"

The man scrambled off the bar counter, and ran to the door while muttering, "bitch is crazy.. I swear…"

Santana was astounded when Brittany turned to face her, "Have I ever told you I love you?"