Short Story preview: Only good for conversation
‘I wouldn’t bother mate, she’s O.G.C.’ I looked at the man who had just spoken then back at the women at the other end of the bar.
‘O.G.C.?’ I asked, looking back at the man.
He was about my height, his striped T-shirt held back the tide of his beer gut as it threatened to tsunami over his belt. He had alert blue eyes and his face was darkened by a couple of days in the shaving wilderness. His hair was cropped short, a welcome mat brown and as coarse.
‘O.G.C.,’ he answered with a lewd sneer, ‘only good for conversation. You can talk to her as much as you like, but you’ll never get into her pants. She’s the coldest bitch I know.’ The look he gave her was brutal.
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