Ranger stood and stretched, his black T-shirt rode up, and I caught a glimpse of two inches of brown skin and hard abs and almost had an orgasm.
“Babe,” he said. “Are you okay?”
“Yep. Why?”
“You sort of moaned.”
“Gas.”
“Understandable.”
We took the elevator to the lobby and looked in at the bar. Filled with men speaking Russian.
“Jackpot,” Ranger said. “Go do your bimbo thing.”
I sidled up to a couple men but didn’t get much response. I tried my luck at the other end. Nothing happening. I went back to Ranger.
“No one wants to talk to me,” I said.
“Maybe it’s because you’re wearing a T-shirt advertising beer and these men all make vodka.”
I looked down at my shirt. “This was supposed to be my day off. I wasn’t dressing for success.”
Ranger slung an arm around my shoulder. “Let’s see what they’ve got in the hotel shopping arcade.”
Three stores. One selling magazines and candy. One selling beachwear. One selling bimbo clothes. Perfect.
“We just need to swap out the T-shirt,” Ranger said. “The jeans are good.”
“They fit better before lunch.”
Ranger pulled a white T-shirt off the rack. “Try this.”
It was a stretchy little job with a low scoop neck, cap sleeves, and HOT STUFF spelled out in rhinestones across the boob area.
I tried it on and it fit okay. I had a little cleavage that was all my own. I wasn’t sure I lived up to the message.
I peeked out of the dressing room at Ranger. “What do you think?”
“I’d give you the keys to my car.”
“You do that all the time anyway.”
“Ever hopeful,” Ranger said.
I marched over to the bar and got into a conversation with one of the men.
“Nice shirt,” he said. “Is it truly?”
“Yeah,” I said. “I’m smokin’. Are you one of the vodka people?”
“Yes. I’m a very big vodka man.”
“I have a friend with the trade show. He has a patch over one eye.” I covered my eye with my hand. “Like this,” I said. “Do you know him?”
“I don’t know this patch.”
I moved down the bar to another Russian.
“Howdy,” I said. “Do you speak English?”
“Yes. Very good English,” he said. “I mostly speak to hot girls.”
Fifteen minutes later I said adios to the last Russian at the bar and returned to Ranger.
“That was fast,” Ranger said.
“When you advertise hot on your chest like this, the conversation progresses pretty quickly. No one’s seen Vlatko.”