On paper the idea of a pub crawl in an exotic location was a really good idea.
It wasn’t until they arrived at the first destination that Yvette noticed that the bar was a little bit floaty.
As the designated maid of honour this was very much on her.
No matter, she thought as the stilettoed party squeezed aboard; being ferried from pontoon to pontoon by a hunky oarsman would be just the ticket for these flirty, thirsty, feral friends.
“Wos a pedal powered pub?” puzzled Pamela, her eyelashes catching on the veil that was acting as a makeshift windsock.
Listen to me read it here:
Written as part of Friday Fictioneers, hosted by Rochelle. Photo prompt submitted by Brenda Cox.
If you enjoyed this, please go take a look at all of the fantastic submissions this week here.
This is where you are and this is what we're doing 
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