Champagne Penance
Late last year, I attended a friend of a friend’s party. “Attend” is the optimal verb because I was not explicitly invited. Instead, my friend was, and she suggested I drop by. I had met the party’s hosts on several occasions, but I would never expect them to necessarily recognize me on the sidewalk nor would any sort of friendship honestly permit the behavior I’m about to describe.
Before the party, I had been at two other gatherings where I helped myself to some beverages, including 100-proof Captain Morgan. I knew my friend had another friend visiting from out of town who we’ll “Veronica.” I met Veronica earlier in the day, and while I had been told she was attractive and verified this claim via photos, in person she stunned the eye. I detected the faint possibility that she may be receptive to my courting.
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