Page 2 of Ours

“I’ll have a glass of champagne and I need to pay for the ticket at the table behind me,” I said, with a hint of bitterness.

“Another one?” He looked at the guy next to me.

“Sure,” he said, still looking at me.

I felt a blush creep on my face, hoping the lighting was too dark for him to notice it.

“I’d say you dodged a bullet with him,” he said, turning his body towards me. “Please sit.”

I slid onto the barstool, and adjusted my skirt, so my slit didn’t ride too far up.

“I probably did dodge a bullet, but it came down to either him or a guy who has a foot fetish. I’m not kink shaming, I just didn’t want to die because he wanted my shoe collection,” I said, looking at my hands, his gaze was unsettling.

He barked out a laugh, “That sounds awful.” He tried to compose himself, but the outburst made him seem not so untouchable. “You should have charged him for a few feet pics, he might have paid for a few pairs of shoes.”

I laughed. “I should have, would’ve broken even with this date.”

“Maybe you need to sell feet pics to fund this habit of yours.” He smirked, before he took a sip of his drink, which felt like he was hiding his smile.

“Habit? You make it sound like wanting sex is like a drug,” I said, feeling strange talking about sex so candidly with this man.

“Isn’t it the same, to search for that high?” He raised a brow.

I felt my body slowly heating up.

“To chase that feeling of being on the edge, where all your nerve endings are sensitive, your body is flushed and you're about to fall into nirvana,” he said, licking his lips, then looked at mine. “That, Bambi, is exactly like a drug.”

We had unknowingly moved towards each other, and were now only a few inches apart. He glanced down at my lips as I licked them, biting down, attempting to be seductive.

“Here are your drinks.” The bartender broke our moment.

Leaning back quickly, I grabbed my glass to give myself something to do.

“It’s going to be sixty-six dollars,” he said, looking at me expectantly.

“Excuse me?” I coughed as my drink went down the wrong way.

“Sixty-six dollars,” he repeated.

“Oh, that cocksucker left me with a thirty-dollar drink,” I mumbled, grabbing my purse to pull out my card.

“Here.” Blondie set his card down.

“No, it's ok,” I said, setting my card down, but I wasn’t fast enough when he shoved his card at the bartender.

“It's the least I can do, so you don’t think all us men are the same,” he said. “Some of us can separate sex and a relationship. There are some of us who even take directions very well.”

“Next you're going to say you know where to find the clit,” I teased while taking a sip of my drink.

“I can’t tell you all my secrets.” He leaned forward. “That’s not all I know how to find either.”

His voice was low and sultry. I took another sip to quell the heat between my legs.

“You sure do know how to talk yourself up, but I have a feeling you have one trick up your sleeve. I’m sure a battering ram isn’t what women are looking for,” I said, trying to stay still.

It was hard not to gravitate to him. He was pulling me in. I felt helpless to his charm and fleeting smirks.

“Come home with me and I’ll show you, I know more than just pistoning into you, I’m more of a making you squirm underneath me kind of guy,” he whispered, leaning towards me even more. “Come on, Bambi, I’ve got what you need.”

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