I feel bad for the guy she came in with. Half an hour after they arrived, he sits alone with his beer, trying not to watch his date — a mischievous coquette in a tight black sweater (to match her short-cropped black hair) — flirt with some other guy, on whose lap she now sits. Arms wrapped around him, she throws occasional sideways glances at the fellow she came in with. Is she taunting him? Gauging his reaction? Hard to tell. She's trouble, though: This guy's in for it, if not now, then later. He's... More >>>