Casual Players

The bar was dimly lit, packed with moving silhouettes, and the music had just the right amount of energy.

Holding a drink, I walked over to a stunning stranger in a strapless top. With an exaggerated expression, I secretly pointed my pinky in his direction and said, “That guy is obviously a player. I just saw him stand on tiptoe to get a better look down your top.”

The beauty puffed up in indignation. Covering her mouth in shock and instinctively protecting her chest, she couldn’t believe that the handsome guy she’d been exchanging flirtatious glances with could be so vulgar.

Half an hour later, while I was flirting with someone in a corner, a hand seized the back of my neck. The grip wasn’t strong, but it reeked of alcohol. Grinding his teeth beside my ear, he hissed viciously:

“What kind of wingman are you supposed to be? You’re screwing over your own teammate!”

A non-player has accidentally wandered into a players’ game. The game begins!