his immaculate shirt front.
The barflies snickered as the man fumbled a bill onto the bar and fled.
It worked, Paul gloated.
A waiter passed carrying a tray of appetizers. Paul closed his eyes, "thought" one into his mouth and tasted the sharp salty flavor of anchovy. This was fun!
Next he noticed a glossy dame sitting near the center of the bar pushing out her front until it reminded him of twin cannons. So she thought she could scrounge another drink from the guy next to her, huh? Why didn't she just pick his pocket and be done with it?
Why not indeed? Effortlessly the man's wallet flew out of his hip pocket and arced down into her low-cut bodice. The girl angled her popping eyes downward. Paul chuckled to himself as she slipped off the stool and headed for the ladies' room.
It was all so easy.
If he could manipulate his new-found power so cleverly, why not do something truly epic? Like dropping a brick on his boss's head. Or—come to think of it—how about putting some money into his own pocket?
The cashier at the end of the bar rang up a sale. Then with the cash drawer still open his attention was attracted by a waiter. Opportunity! With hardly any effort at all Paul transferred a ten-dollar bill from the drawer into his shirt pocket. It crackled excitingly as he pressed it flat with a casual hand.