“This is not the cleavage you were looking for,” is what he told the guy at the bar who was staring at him. And this was not a pickup joint, anyhow, nor a place to meet clients; this was his favorite neighborhood dive, or close enough. So Gloom took his third? Fourth? Hypnotini back to his table–maybe a bit unsteadily–and sat again at the booth he had to himself. . . . → Read More: Cocktails with Gloom
