<div class="floatleft">(http://i.imgur.com/cQ5ZPB0.jpg)</div><br/><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 12pt;"><span class="bbc_u">Blaire Simmons</span></span><br/><span class="bbc_u">Location</span>- En route to The Rusty Spur Saloon<br/><span class="bbc_u">Date &amp; Time</span>- April 15th, 2006. 10:20 PM<br/><span class="bbc_u">Tag</span>- Clint<br/><hr/><hr/><br/>"Oooh, wowwww, Shiner Bock!" Blaire exclaimed exaggeratedly while rolling her eyes and tilting her head back against the headrest. She'd never heard of Shiner Bock before and therefor had no idea why it was such a great thing that the Rusty Spur served it. Some kind of beer that Clint was a fan of from back home, she guessed only because he'd mentioned that it was on tap, otherwise it could have been liquor or something else for all she'd have known. Blaire liked pretty much every sort of beer that she'd ever tried more or less equally, and even then she was more of a liquor type of gal, so she didn't really care much.<br/><br/>She felt his hand, at first on her knee and then slowly sneaking up along her thigh. "Anyways..." Blaire started, flashing a coy half-smile as she pressed her legs more tightly together and scooted away just a tiny bit, not even a full inch, but the intent was only to set him off, not to escape. "I've gotta start giving you some wins in advance. Wouldn't want you to feel<em>too</em>emasculated after I spank your fine cowboy ass in that race, y'know?" Well, if moving away hadn't done the trick, that certainly would.<br/><br/>Blaire let the question about her closet go unanswered (why ruin the surprise?). Instead, she placed one of her own hands atop of Clint's, half caressing it and half impeding its advance, another teasing roadblock that he'd need to work through. Blaire was enjoying this game already.