The End of the Season-Part I

I'm a CPA, and back before I opened up my own practice I worked for a medium sized accounting firm in midtown. During tax season, we were required to put in long hours and sacrifice weekends to get the work done on time, with 12 hour days being the norm, and Saturday disappearing to the onslaught of work. Our firm made it a practice to finish a day or two before April 15th, sending the clerical staff to the post office to mail out the extensions and sending the accountants out to dinner and to get drunk, usually at some bar close by where we could all sit together and bitch at one another and commisserate about all the time sacrificed to put money into the partners' pockets.
We started early that evening, around 7 or so, the ties loosened or lost, sleeves rolled up and jackets disappeared. The wait staff was told to keep 'em coming, and it wasn't long before my Irish whiskey and soda count climbed over five. We sat at a round table, back to back with other round tables full of large groups. I'm normally a quiet guy, a counterpuncher in conversations rather than a loudmouth, my comments being mostly quick asides and sharp rejoinders to the ongoing conversation.
And so it was close to ten before I noticed her, the woman sitting with her back to me who kept looking in my direction, trying to get a clear view of my face. She wasn't my type at all, a round pie face with short brown hair, sallow colored skin, a small underbite. She wore an old-fashioned leotard top with the traditional scoop neck, and her breasts were pushed up by a half bra into what being perky, the tops showing out of the leotard and the outline of the half bra was clearly visible. The look was completed by a pair of lowrider jeans with a 2 inch zipper, the jeans struggling to cover the high cut of the leotard on her hips.
We finally managed to catch each others attention, and I raised my eyebrows in the universal "what's up" greeting. She pivoted slightly so that she was facing me sideways, and commented on my sarcastic wit and caustic comments. I was drunk enough at that point to tell her to mind her own fucking business, but she said it so nicely and with such a come hither smile that I also turned sideways to continue the conversation, offering to buy her a drink as I turned.