I headed towards the bar but didn't get far before there was a touch on my arm. "Um, hey gorgeous, how's about getting us a drink?" The line sounded over-rehearsed and rushed, more of a plea than a confident request. I pasted on a smile and turned to face a short man with a middle-aged spare tire and a ruddy complexion, thin hair pasted across his bald head. He was standing alone, so 'us' must have meant, well, us. His eyes were fixated on my breasts. I kicked myself for spending so much time working on my face; in this crowd, I could have had slitted pupils, sharpened teeth and a snake for a tongue, and only the other women would notice.