The Tale of the Redhead

Many months ago I was at my client's office. It was before the stresses of tax season. You can actually have fun at a client's office, if there was anything fun there to do. When you have a client with 30 taps like David Copperfield's House of Beer, there is the possibility of fun being had.

I had just finished up my number crunching for the day and the owner wasn't around. He cleared it with the manager that I can have whatever I wanted. The manager on duty was Nita. She's a charming red-haired southern girl who's a couple years older than I am. She appeared to be a little past her prime, but she carried herself in a way that you know she's comfortable with herself. She decided that since business was slow that day, she'll give me a tour of the great beers on tap. Over lunch she plied me with beer and we just chatted like regular people at the bar.

Until...

I was finishing one pint and she came around to my right side and placed another beer in front of me. I turned my head to thank her and her face was about three inches from mine. I must say I would normally be horribly shocked by such behavior, as no one other than my wife has come that close to me in years. But since I had about a half a dozen beers in me, I didn't flinch. Instead I studied her face. She had wonderful green eyes. Typical for a redhead she had very pink skin. And for a few moments we continued talking, even in that proximity.

Finally through the beer haze I broke away from all that togetherness. Thoughts raced through my muddled brain.

She was coming on to me!

But how?

Why?

We've spoken many times in the past. I always mention how lovely and delightful my wife is and how she's doing, and what our plans may be. But I knew that if I didn't withdraw she would've gone in for a kiss. Not that it would've progressed into anything else beyond that, but I wasn't opening any doors.

It was awkward suddenly. Well, it should've been, but the alcohol dulled my keen senses, and they weren't working as they usually do. So I remained polite, but created some extra distance.

Ultimately, I thanked her for a fine lunch and brew, and departed. I crawled back to my office. Literally. I remained friendly with Nita after that, but didn't allow that sort of a situation to happen again.

FAST FORWARD TO NEW YEAR'S EVE...

I was invited to the "party" at David Copperfield's for New Years Eve. So my wife made herself look hotter than ever, and I dressed up in my finest Goth fashion and we went over. Our waitress that evening, Melissa, even took me aside to ask who the absolutely gorgeous woman was with me. Beaming, I responded, "That's my wife."

I don't know if I should be offended that people are shocked that I have such a pretty wife, but that's neither here, not there.

Also on the floor that night was Nita. For a brief moment a shiver of fear shot down my spine like an electric shock. Partly because she was wearing a cocktail dress that the neck dropped nearly down to her navel, but mostly because I was wondering if she might pull something. If she had some interest, an easy way to place a wedge between my wife and me would be to say something inappropriate. Luckily, she kept her tongue at bay and there was no incident.

By the next time I went there to work she was fired. She was a party girl with a poor diet and would frequently call in sick for days at a time. When the owner got tired of covering so many shifts she got the boot. And that's how my Tale of the Redhead ends.