An incredibly attractive and more than well-endowed blonde
walked into the lounge bar of a prestigious London hotel.
She was alone.
She stood at the bar, rather than waiting for a waiter to
take her order from a table and ordered a cocktail of a type
which suggested she certainly knew her booze.
After taking a great deal of trouble with bottles, measures
and a cocktail shaker, the barman served her with the drink
and placed it on the bartop, anxious to make her further
acquaintance.
"I haven't seen you here before, Madam. Are you staying at
the hotel tonight?" he asked as nonchalantly as possible -
in the way that London barmen often do.
"No," she replied in a matter of fact manner, "I just felt
like a drink - and walked in."
"Well, feel free to do that at any time in the future. We'd
be delighted to see you and if you'd be willing to give me
your name, I'll ensure my colleagues are aware of who you
are. You must be assured we will be delighted to see you
again."
She looked back at him through half-closed eyes and in a
voice of silk with interestingly challenging undertones
said, "my name's Rolex."
"But that's the name of a watch!" the barman exclaimed - but
not too loudly. He had to remember he was in Mayfair.
As her body exuded the most bewitching perfume, she looked
at him for some moments, gently turning the stem of her
cocktail glass between her superbly manicured fingers and
then, bringing the rim of the glass to her immaculately
made-up lips, quietly replied, "Mmm, same name - different
movement."
Jonmac
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