It was the usual Friday night obligatory drinks with my partners. I’m a lawyer, the only female partner they have, and every Friday night I have to act like one of the boys. Tonight we were at a local pub instead of going into town to some swanky restaurant. Suited me—the sooner I was away from them and home in my own bed, the better.
No wonder I was a lesbian. These guys were absolute dickheads. The more they drank, the louder they became; the louder they became, the more obnoxious they presented. They were giving this cute waitress a hard time, so on the way to the ladies’ room, I stopped and apologized for them.
“Don’t worry,” she said. “I’m used to dealing with men like that. Why do you hang around them?”
“We’re partners, that’s all. I’m Sheila,” I said, holding out my hand for her
