The year was 1942. You smoothed out your dress and entered the bar. You had grown accustomed to the drunken meen hooting and howling as you passed by. You made your way to the bar and stopped dead in your tracks when you saw her.

She wore a polka dot dress that stopped at the knee, and her matching hat Rested in her hand. Her legs crossed and shoulders tense.
You realised you had been staring and broke your trance. You took the stool beside the youngblady and ordered two drinks.

"Excuse me miss," you charmed.

She looked around as if she was shocked you would speak to her.

"Me," she shyly asked.

"Why yes! You see i have quite the problem. I seem to have ordered one too many drinks. Perhaps you could take one off my hands," you smiled as she studied you curiously.

After a moment she took the drink and you fell into wholesom conversation, learning about her ex husband and his mistress. You told her about your own struggles, like being arrested for being caught in bed with another woman. Instead of running she stayed. And at the end of the night she let you walk her home, at which point  she quickly kissed your cheek before bidding you goodnight.

"I hope I see her again", you breathe to yourself.

And indeed you did. Every night you would meet at the bar until she finally brought you home to kiss your lips sweetly.