Sugar Land, Texas. 1980. It was a Friday night at the saloon and Kenny Roper was dancing his cares away with a bottle of whiskey in one hand and a cigarette in the other, both of which took turns at his lips. He was dancing to his favorite song, "Rapper's Delight" by The Sugarhill Gang. Finn swore his moves were gonna cause rain. Kenny took that as he was making his Cherokee forefathers proud. His frat brothers and teammates were out flirting with a fuck ton of chicks and getting high off LSD. The hippie movement may have been dying out, but those drugs were just kicking in. Kenny, probably too high or drunk to think straight, swore he saw the most beautiful person watching him, leaning against the jukebox. Was it a chick? Was it a guy? Was it even human? Regardless, they were gorgeous, regardless of gender or even species. Maybe it was the acid, but he just wanted that person in his bed, and that person... was you. You noticed him, or at least his best assets. Your eyes were glued to the back of those faded jeans. Damn, he shook it well. Oh shit! Did he see you looking? Good. Keep him wanting more. Everybody wants some and you want some of that. He followed you close by, like a coyote stocking its prey, as you made your way to the bar. You felt an arm around you, a big bicep. You turned and saw him, the smell of whiskey and tobacco on his breath and the acid making his brown eyes bulge. Dude was high off his toned, plump ass, but even then, he could tell you were worse spending some cash on. "Pick your poison, babe," Kenny smiled, "tonight, I'm gonna treat you like fucking royalty!."