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Bastien wove his way to the section separated by velvet ropes. He showed the Flow card again to a bouncer who scanned it as Bastien climbed the platform to the private VIP booths. Her skin was flushed, as if she was blushing.
“You’ve got good taste in champagne,” she said, her voice breathless and sexy.
“I happened to notice you were dry.” Bastien filled her glass. Their fingers brushed and he wanted more than the quick skim of her soft skin.
“Thank you for making me wet again.”
The double entendre hit him low in his stomach. He hadn’t been going that way with it, but he wasn’t going to back away from it either. He caught a glimpse of her tongue as she licked her lips. It was all he could do not to groan aloud. After filling his glass, Bastien nestled the champagne bottle back into the ice. He hated champagne, but he’d choke it down for a chance to talk to her.
“Have a seat,” she said, motioning next to her.
“I saw you dancing. Are you an actress?” He joined her on the couch.
She flashed him a smile. “We’re all actors, aren’t we?”
“Mysterious.” Bastien clinked glasses with her. “All right, well, if you’re not going to tell me, I’m going to have to guess. I think you’re a choreographer for a local show.”
“It’s frightening how close you are to the truth. What do you do for a living?”
“As little as possible.” He took a sip. It was god-awful. He forced himself not to grimace.
“I know a lot of guys like that.” She rolled her eyes and slightly shifted away from him.
“Do I look like those guys?” he asked, leaning back.
“You don’t.” She appraised him again and the slight hungry look in her eyes made him forget the sickly taste of sweet champagne in his mouth. “You look like an MMA announcer.”
“Announcer?”
Reaching out, she grabbed his hand and rubbed her thumb over his knuckles. “No calluses. So you must be a retired fighter.”
“Retired? As in old?” He smirked.
“Seasoned, like a good steak.”
“I’m salty all right.”
“A good steak isn’t salty.” She looked down her cute nose at him.
“My apologies,” he said with an incline of his head.
“Anyway, I’m guessing you’re more like a lover than a fighter.” She kept a hold of his hand, her thumb still gliding over it.
“It’s astonishing how you were able to read me like that.” Her light little touch shouldn’t be as erotic as it was. “So what do you do for fun?”
“Truthfully, it’s been so long I think I’ve forgotten how. I’ve been working nonstop this past year. This is the first time I’ve taken the night off in a long time. Pathetic, huh?” She gave him a sad little smile.
“I’m the same way. I was just going to head out when I saw you. This really isn’t my scene.”
“What about it don’t you like?” she asked.
“The music kinda sucks. But I liked your song. I’d probably like it better if I was dancing with someone. Do you want to try?”
“Yes, but first, a toast.” She poured them both a glass of that nasty sickly sweet champagne.
“Okay.” Bastien wondered if there was a potted plant he could dash the contents into without her noticing it.
“To Flow.”
