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My cock is fucking twitching with its own fucking heartbeat just looking at her.
She’s got a slender body and a fucking tight waist. Golden fucking tresses coiffed beautifully.
If I don’t go over and talk to her now, my brain is going to explode.
But something else catches my eye—I can tell she's fucking confident. Like she’s casing the joint. Like she fucking owns this place already.
I’m going to fuck her.
I’ll try tonight. But I actually want to enjoy this.
Look at her. Fucking money. I fucking love that attitude she’s giving.
I mean, I’ll beat it down when I beat up that pussy, but I fucking love it.
She's talking to the bartender, Ben, a young college kid I recently hired. She's leaning over and they're deep in conversation. It's a fucking shame I can't hear what they're saying, but her mouth is open in a wide smile and her plump lips are the color of red wine.
She's wearing long, gold, hoop earrings that catch the lighting of the club and it bounces off her neck in quick sparkles. There's an intense look in her eye that says she's driven, and smart. I fucking love a woman with ambition.
I need to know who this woman is.
Right fucking now.
I need to put a name to a fucking face.
I leave my spot in the back of the club and walk toward the bar, and to the mystery woman. I pull up a barstool and sit up right next to her.
"Let me guess, Sex on the Beach?"
"Excuse me?" she asks, turning in my direction.
"Your dr
ink," I say, pointing to the rose-tinted cocktail in her glass. "It's fucking surprising, that's all."
"Oh yeah?” she asks, raising her eyebrow but playing along. “And why's that?"
Good. I definitely have her attention.
"Because it's so fucking typical," I say with a smirk as I look at her, "and you're anything but."
"You wanna know what's really typical?" she asks me, a smirk on her lips. "Is flirting with women at a bar."
"I'm just making an observation," I say, smiling and shrugging my shoulders. If I'm honest, I'm fucking enjoying this game. "Ordering a Sex on the Beach is a stereotypical girly thing to do, that's all."
She smiles and thinks for a moment before responding.
"And how would you know anything about women?” she asks me, turning to me. I can see her eyes fucking twinkle.
“Seems to me like you don't hire enough in this place," she says. "It's all men. Like someone likes the sausage."
"That's kind of the point," I laugh. “A fucking sausage fest is what the females want.”
“What goes well with sausage?” she asks me, a coy smile.
“Mayonnaise and buns,” I reply back and she gives me a nasty grin that seriously leaves my knees fucking weak.
Fuck, I’ve never been like this before with a girl.
