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Summary
His friends all stand up to hug him in greeting. Oscar stays put in his seat, rubbing his sweaty palms against his jeans. He’s drunk now and he doesn’t want to make a fool of himself in front of such an ethereal being.
Bambi walks over to him and sticks his hand out for Oscar to shake. “I don’t think we’ve met before. I’m Bambi.”
Oscar’s so riddled with nerves that his tongue feels heavy in his mouth. Nevertheless, he reaches up to take his hand, his own dwarfed in comparison to the man’s large palm. “I’m Oscar,” he says simply, not trusting himself to say anything more.
“I know,” Bambi smiles down at him. “Do you want a lap dance, Oscar?”
OR
Some of the drivers were nice enough to take Oscar out to celebrate him winning the WDC and he gets way more than he bargained for.