She drank from her frosty glass of beer and noted that it was covered in sweat from condensation. Two empty glasses sat on the table, along with the crumbs of what remained of her steak frites.
“Would you like another?” the server asked.
Clara looked up from her phone, over her sunglasses, toward the muscular man with sunburned skin and a trimmed beard. She enjoyed the look of him, and his cologne carried a subtle scent of musk. However, she was in no mood to play. A few more beers might change my mind.
“Yes,” Clara said. “Please.”