Page 2 of Vicious Arrangement
“Brie? Try not to let her drink more for at least twenty minutes.” It’s not an actual thing, it won’t sober her or let the alcohol move through her and clear her system, but it’s a break and if I can get twenty, then I can get more. And… it’s a start.
Brie’s eyes widen. And I sigh.
“Or until I get back,” I say. “I’ll get more water for her.”
One more nursing job.
That’s all it is.
And as I love Katie, I’d rather save her from hangover hell in the morning. I leave my bag with Brie, who’s the most sober of the lot. If I remember rightly, she’s got an early morning start most mornings, so early drinking is her agenda, or at least light. And to me it looks like it. “I’ll watch her. Thanks, Ari. She’s a beast tonight.”
Someone hands Katie a drink as Brie finishes speaking, and I grab it just as Katie starts to raise it. “No, Katie, you need a break.”
“You’re a party pooper,” she says with a drunken pout.
Others raise glasses and shout, “Party pooper at me.”
I roll my eyes and slam a hand on one hip. “I’d rather be that than end up in the ER with alcohol poisoning.”
“Drugs, then,” someone else shouts, and the table dissolves into laughter.
With my other hand, I point at them all. “Just for that, I’m getting a whole pitcher of water.”
I collect my phone from my bag that Brie’s guarding and slide it into my pocket, one of the reasons I bought this dress. Then I weave through the crowd, the music shifting into a sexier beat.
To my right at the bar, I spy Luke who isn’t getting drinks and is instead performing an up close and personal tonsil inspection from what I can see with his and the girl’s very graphic PDA.
“What’ll it be?” A bored, good-looking bartender says with artful scruff and tattoos up his exposed forearms.
“A pitcher of water, with ice and lemon, and a shot for you,” I say, panicking. Not over him. He’s not my type, but I’ve never figured out if it’s insulting to tip on water, and since I’m not buying it and I don’t have cash on me… I’d rather buy him a drink.
He starts to speak, but I cut him off. “Please, I’ll get you a drink so I can tip for the service of getting me water. Besides, a drink’s wasted on my friend down there.”
I tilt my head in Luke’s direction, and he laughs.
Once I pay and tip for his very cheap shot—a very generous shot since I watch my money… I have college debts, and a nurse’s salary isn’t huge, especially at this point in my career—I grab napkins for the messy table, and then try to hold the jug in one hand as I put my phone away, making my way back across the bar.
I don’t make it.
I slam into someone, and to my horror as I stumble back, the pitcher jerks, and water sloshes over the edge and onto that someone.
Not just onto someone.
Onto someone’s crotch.
In a fine suit.
And as the water soaks in, I can see, even in the dim light, the soft outline of a very decent size cock.
Heat flares over my skin.
I snatch the mostly dry napkins and try to mop it up, dabbing and pressing and rubbing at the water. I think the charcoal suit is merino, something exceptionally fine, and I’ve turned his crotch into a black stain that looks like he’s peed himself.
Under my fingers as I work, a part of me, a professional part, marvels at how thick he is, how well proportioned. It almost seems like it’s getting big?—
Oh.
Fuck.
