(LUDUS – a love that is played as a game or sport; conquest; may have multiple partners at once)
Dean parallel parked the Impala in front of the Pink Slipper bar. The girl in the passenger seat . . . he'd forgotten her name . . . smiled seductively and laced her tight leather shirt back up. "You've got lipstick all over your face," she noted, unbuckling her seatbelt and leaning forward. "Come here and I'll get it off for you."
Dean leaned forward, allowing her to lick off the residual lipstick from their earlier make out session that had taken place in the backseat. First time he'd ever had lipstick licked off him, he thought. This was interesting. She knew how to turn him on, that was for certain.
"All better," she said, white teeth flashing in the dim car.
"Great, let's go," Dean turned off the engine and they got out of the car.
The Pink Slipper was one of those girly bars that . . . damn it, what was her name? . . . said she frequented a lot. Dean didn't really like it, but he was really too drunk to care. If there were girls and whiskey then he was happy.
They found a table, and the Date With No Name wandered off to the bar. A waitress walked by and Dean casually slapped her jean-skirted ass as she passed. She looked back with a laugh, winked, and walked on.
"You're bold," said a new voice, husky with cigarette smoke and too much beer. Dean turned to see a dark-haired woman, easily ten years older than him, come around from behind his chair and sit down at his table.
"Yes I am," Dean asserted.
"And I'm drunk."
Dean thought about this for a minute. "Me too."
"This could make for a very compromising situation," the woman chuckled, laying her hand on his.
When The Date With No Name came back to her table five minutes later, Dean was nowhere to be seen.