The beginning

The bar was smelly, smoky, sticky. Francia had no place to lean, lest she takes home the gummy film on her silk sleeve. She backed away from the bar and checked her phone. Unsurprisingly, Grace was late. She vowed to wait five minutes more before leaving. She stood awkwardly between the stools packed 3 deep, and the wall of beer mirrors when a tall, slender angle-faced man said "excuse me" to squeeze through. Francia felt his bony ass graze her hip with a small thrill. She followed him toward the back where it was a little roomier, but harder to spot Grace if she ever decided to show. 

"I'm following you."

"I'm leading you."

And that was that, they met.