A tall, muscular, man stood at the door way in front of the girl. One hand on her hip and the other holding onto a bicep as large as her head, her smile was one of comfort and humor. "C'mon Mike," she said sweetly. "I'm here all the time. Why ya gotta card me now?" The only answer was a raised eye-brow and a smirk, a joke about just wanting to see two version of her face at once, and then a wave. He leaned in closer to her and whispered the only comment about her ID she'd get for the rest of the night - She really needed to stop forgetting her fake ID at home.

Smiling a secret smile as she entered the smoky dive bar, all thoughts of her forgotten identification was gone. All that mattered was the covers of bad rock songs done by even worse country bands and vice versa. Her skirt was two inches two short, the triple-x tee that was belted at her waist had more sequins than a Christmas sweater, and her twin braids were tousled and teased.

Sitting at the bar, she kicked her heels off preemptively and handed them to the bartender. They made her legs look ******** fantastic but they were just going to get in the way. The bartender, one she knew but couldn't remember the name of, leaned over at her he smiled. "You're regular Carolynn?" Shaking her head the girl pointed at the Apple Pucker on the wall behind the man with a huge grin.

"I aim to get Hasselhoff drunk."