It's mid-June and Abner has decided to let the whole company of workers off on a break for the day.

Indy and I decide to go out to lunch.

You know, as a strictly platonic outing.

We ask around for recommendations and settle on the place where the rest of the workers are going; a place called the 'Siren's Lair'.

We walk in, a gesture that signals the workers to wave and shout, "Indy and Pitcher Girl!"

With a small smile I seat myself at a table for two. I try to cross my legs and look sophisticated, but then I figure that its useless to do something for no purpose.

Because there IS no purpose in trying to look sophisticated.

I drum my fingers impatiently on the table.

"Hungry much?" Indy asks, taking off his hat and running a hand through his hair.

"Starving." I say firmly, forcing my gaze down so I cannot look at Indy's hair.

Suddenly, as if on cue, the waitresses walk out and start taking orders.

My jaw drops.

Now I know why this place is called the 'Siren's Lair'.

The waitresses are all women, BEAUTIFUL, olive-skinned, sultry eyed women.

And they are all dressed in skanky, revealing tops and bottoms. Navels pierced, and faces adorned with glittery make-up, I can tell that I probably won't be able to drag Indy out of this place.

"Indy?" I ask quietly, knowing its a hopeless attempt to grab his attention.

His eyes are completely magnetized to the waitresses, and it doesn't help when their hips start to sway. Bile rises to the back of my throat.

The tallest and slimmest of the women walks over to the table and sits right on Jones' lap. My jaw clenches and my eyes narrow.

But I am not jealous.

I AM NOT WISHING I WAS THE ONE SITTING ON HIS LAP.

I just don't like the whore hovering over my best friend.

"Can I get something for you?" She asks, leveling Indy with a secretive stare.

"Yeah, I'll have a humus please!" I shout, making her jump as if she just notices me.

"And you, sir?" She asks, ignoring me.

"I'll er...have the same." He says.

She walks away, swinging her hips slowly. I see his eyes widen at this motion.

"Stop it." I growl, now gripping my chair with both hands.

"What, are you jealous?" He asks, looking quite pleased with himself.

"Oh, spare me." I spit sarcastically. "I'm merely watching out for you, Jones."

"Says the girl who trips and breaks everything." He mutters, despite my piercing look in response.

The waitress comes back and sets our food on the table. She leans into Indy and gets VERY CLOSE to him.

"Is that all?" She breathes.

Jones looks like he wants so much more than just food from that girl. Nevertheless, he manages to mutter, "Yeah, that's all."

What is it with these service women? Why are they all after MY, ahem, NOT MY Indiana Jones.

I cross my arms moodily and tear into my food. Indy smirks and goes to his food as well.

This is one battle against the flirty women after Jones that I did NOT win.

Stupid belly-dancers from hell.

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