Wild Night
She looks up at you and brushes a lock of unruly blonde hair off of her gorgeous face.
"I know the perfect place, Club Mulasio, on 32nd St. My name is Holly, by the way, Holly Fairchild," she says, standing, picking up her purse and nodding goodbye to her two companions.
Holly seems to float out of the bar, a picture of tranquility in an otherwise discordant room. She is wearing a slinky red dress that fits her curves perfectly, it tapers in the back down to her waist. Her skin has a perfect tan that offsets against her golden hair and bright white flashing smile.
"Don't mind if I drive, do you?" Holly asks.
"Not at all," you reply as she walks up to a brand new silver convertible sportscar.
You jump inside and she revs the engine and speeds off. It seems that you are both students at the same university and she discusses her major in classical philosophy when suddenly you notice that her driving is becoming erratic. In the rear-view mirror, you catch a glimpse of a dark van with tinted windows trailing you.
Holly reaches into her purse and pulls out a pistol.
"What the hell are you doing with that?" you shout at her above the blare of traffic.
"No time to explain now," she says, her speach suddenly changing to reflect a clipped British accent. "I could use a bit of help, though. There's a 9mm in the glove compartment. Aim for the passenger window."
She shouts, taking a shot at the driver and missing as she swerves to avoid a roadblock. Her hair has come loose of its elaborate hairdo and the wind wips about her head, it gives her a wild and reckless look and makes her all the more appealing, still though, this could be very dangerous, because you notice that the van's passenger window is being rolled down and a man holding an Uzi is leaning out.
You could...
"I know the perfect place, Club Mulasio, on 32nd St. My name is Holly, by the way, Holly Fairchild," she says, standing, picking up her purse and nodding goodbye to her two companions.
Holly seems to float out of the bar, a picture of tranquility in an otherwise discordant room. She is wearing a slinky red dress that fits her curves perfectly, it tapers in the back down to her waist. Her skin has a perfect tan that offsets against her golden hair and bright white flashing smile.
"Don't mind if I drive, do you?" Holly asks.
"Not at all," you reply as she walks up to a brand new silver convertible sportscar.
You jump inside and she revs the engine and speeds off. It seems that you are both students at the same university and she discusses her major in classical philosophy when suddenly you notice that her driving is becoming erratic. In the rear-view mirror, you catch a glimpse of a dark van with tinted windows trailing you.
Holly reaches into her purse and pulls out a pistol.
"What the hell are you doing with that?" you shout at her above the blare of traffic.
"No time to explain now," she says, her speach suddenly changing to reflect a clipped British accent. "I could use a bit of help, though. There's a 9mm in the glove compartment. Aim for the passenger window."
She shouts, taking a shot at the driver and missing as she swerves to avoid a roadblock. Her hair has come loose of its elaborate hairdo and the wind wips about her head, it gives her a wild and reckless look and makes her all the more appealing, still though, this could be very dangerous, because you notice that the van's passenger window is being rolled down and a man holding an Uzi is leaning out.
You could...