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| [Passing the Bar - by theholyinnocent] |
She wasn’t sure which one she liked best: The brunette or the brunette.
“You weren’t really a lawyer in New York, were you?” one cooed.
Passing a fresh martini, the other one sensually brushed against her. “I believe it—you look the part.”
The former Alex Cabot took the proffered drink, basking in the glow of more flirtatious attentions than she’d received in eons. She smiled, lounging seductively in the deck chair, the sun warming her face.
Until a certain boss rather cruelly kicked said chair. “Table Seven—margarita pitcher. Get your ass behind that bar and start mixin’ NOW!”
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