The bar was a popular hangout for teens and twenty something from the local college.
One Beverly Smite sat at a table alone. Courtesy of the FMTF (Future Mitilary Task Force) she had recieved mammoth breast implants and a tight, strapless gown. She also had her student loans paid for this easy work.
Her job - use any means to get likely candidates signed up.
Every night she was assigned to a different bar, every night she get a few more young men drunk, and hand them over to the MP's that morosely watched her at her work.
It was only 7:00, yet she had sighted her draftees for that night.
Zack, Sam, Greg were students from the nearby college. They were interested, Buster and Dan were shoving each other in the gut.
Sam and Greg were average looking eighteen year olds, average build, about 5'11. One brown haired brown eyed, one blond and blue eyed. Sam wore a shit-eating grin. Any minute he'd come up to her with a some lame line, on some scheme to lay her before night's end.
Good candidadates, the both of them.
Her eye fell on Zack. A couple inches taller, slightly beefier - built from work, not exercise - she guessed.
He had already had three beer, and looked annoyed.
"Girlfriend dumped him," muttered Smite to herself, "either that or flunking a course. Boys night out - probably Sam's idea.
"Hey, gorgeous, doing anything" said Sam.
"No, why don't you cuddle up to me -and bring your friends."
Sam looked a little crestfallen when she said friends, but grabbed some beer and motioned (somewhat reluctantly) to Zack and Greg.