The Game

Cheryl turned sideways, sucked her tummy in and drew herself up to her full 5 foot 5 inches. She was ready for battle and had no intention of becoming a casualty. Her eye on the prize she began to move imperceptibly across the field. Sidestepping the eye of the enemy she kept her focus. It helped to turn sideways, she could slip through the ranks un-noticed, then a quick flick of the shoulder and she was past the first wave. Watching carefully she judged her next move. Where would it be safest to position herself? It wasn't just a matter of grabbing the first safe spot, it was about who would be her wing man. She hesitated almost a moment too long as she spotted an incursion to her left. But Cheryl was a veteran, she knew the game. A sharp elbow, a small imperceptible shove and she made it to the front of the bar, smiling sweetly into the topaz eyes of a besuited City type. Captured by her sparkle he allowed himself to be drawn into her net until, almost without thinking, as the indifferent barman handed her the large glass of Chardonnay he uttered the words "let me get that for you" and handed a crisp note across the counter.

A Sunday Scribble on the subject of 'Game'.