Smart is Sexy

As I left the Vegas night club waaay past my bedtime, the sexy doorman asked, “Leaving so early?”

Caught off guard, I mumbled something stupid and blushed. In my head, I thought: Damn, he’s hot. I kept walking away.

As I made my way through the bustling casino, I realized, I gave my phone number to two men tonight I hope don’t ever call me, but I’m just walking away from that hot doorman . . . .

He seemed surprised to see me a few minutes later.

“I am so remiss,” I tried to sound sincere as I lied. “I forgot to thank the host for inviting me to this event . . .”


He peered at the slip of paper in my hand as I added, “And I’m pretending that this is for her. . . .” He looked a little confused before I said, “But it’s really for you.”

His grin broadened as he said, “That’s fantastic.”

Two days later on our first date, my sexy doorman admitted, “It took me 45 minutes sitting beside the phone before I could pick it up.”

Leaning into him, I asked: “Was the deciding factor that I used the word piqued correctly?”

“That was a big part of it, yes.”


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