My date is beautiful. So beautiful, I could nearly forgive her.

A woman should not behave this way. She now sits in front of me, winking repeatedly and sucking at the paper straw. She agreed to meet me when I asked, just for dinner, not for breakfast, if I knew what she meant. It was totally inappropriate that she even thought about it. She just said it straight in my face, without even blushing. No shame at all.
And now she is looking at me while sucking the juice through the paper straw. She has not been brought up properly, clearly. A woman should respect herself. Her dress is nice enough, modest, by the quick look I shot under the table. I can barely see her knees. Good, I should not be able to see more until that dress lands on the floor. I look back up, and her eyebrows are raised. Nice legs, I compliment her. It is my turn to raise eyebrows when she does not smile or decline. They are, she responds coldly and sucks at the straw again. Where are her manners?
I should have known that she was easy when she said yes to my invitation. She should have been ashamed of herself, clearly too keen, but she is sitting on the other side of the table, looking straight at me. So where do you work, she asks, and I smile. Maybe not everything is lost. I inform her that I work in IT, in Pithon programming and drive my merc to the headquarters in the centre. It is Python, she corrects me, pouting her lips at the beginning of the word in a vulgar way. I take a sip of my beer to cool down the urge to call out her arrogance. Slip of the tongue, I ease the situation and ask about her work. She works in hedge funds. Charity work, I nod, feeling that she has redeemed herself in my eyes. Nature conservation and fundraising bakes are appropriate activities for a young woman. She takes a strong suck through the straw, which makes a suggestive gurgling noise. I take it as a sign to end the charade this whole dinner has been.
She says something about a bank, but I place my hand on her fingers and comfort her that I can pay for the dinner and our taxi. Her eyebrows wrinkle in an unattractive frown. Our taxi, she asks, and I nod. It should be obvious it is too late to play coy now. Easy girls do not need much convincing. One finger gesture at the waiter, and I pull out my wallet. There is no need to get upset, my dear, I reassure the woman as I pay. The waiter glances at her, and she sends him a small smile. I knew it. I knew she would jump on anything that moved.
Could I get a cherub cocktail, she asks the waiter directly. He nods and invites her to the bar to choose a spirit. I cross my arms, watching the woman make her way to the bar. I can now see that the skirt is too tight on her rear, but I can bear it. Clearly an alcoholic, drinking on her date. She will pay for her own cocktail.

Wait, where is she gone?
Stupid ho.