But she was too young for me. I was thirty, and I always thought that men my age going after women that age were playing in
a shallow pond they were too big for.
Our eye contact lasted about half a second before I smiled and looked elsewhere, shutting her down subtly. I could tell she was going places in life, but my bedroom wasn’t going to be one of them. There were plenty of local young men who could oblige her.
My eyes moved across the room and held attention as though my gaze was my physical presence. I passed over a group of medical students that I could recognize by the tight-bound hair and the stress that radiated off them. I enjoyed relieving that stress, sometimes, but not tonight. Maybe it was the whisky putting me in just the right headspace, but I wanted something I’d remember.
That didn’t happen often, though.
The sound of awkward laughter I could barely hear through the music drew my attention to the bar to my left. I knew that kind of laugh.
There was a woman leaning against the bar that my eyes drank in immediately. She had olive skin and legs so long she could probably lean over the bar and show off that ass she had, rounder than any I’d seen tonight. Curly black hair spilled down past her shoulders, dancing just below the straps of a black bikini top. Her face in profile showed full lips and smoldering eyes.
She was talking to a man that was a few years younger than her, probably more in league with the freshmen girls, and she clearly wasn’t interested. The guy was broad-shouldered and had the look of an athlete about him—strong, but untested.
I got the bartender’s attention with a glance, and she made her way over to me. I nodded to the brunette. “Vodka cranberry for her. Let her know it’s from me.”
The bartender gave me a tight, knowing smile, but she obeyed. She always did. I’d have to thank her for her service one of these days, or at least set her up with a colleague of mine she’d appreciate.
I watched the drink go to the mystery girl, who looked surprised, but not as surprised as the guy. The girl looked back to me, and those eyes of hers lit up with a spark of interest. She paused for a moment, but I watched a smile play across her face before she turned to the guy to say something. I could read her lips well enough to know she was saying something to the effect of “. . . my friend over there,” pointing to me, and she gave the unsuccessful man a slight wave before making her way over to me.
The guy glared at me for a moment, sizing me up, but the look I gave him put him in his place. It was close to closing time, but at least he wasn’t drunk enough to think he could start trouble over what I’d done.
“Thanks for that,” the girl said as she took her place at my side, leaning against the bar and taking a sip of the drink. She let her eyes do a little drinking of their own. “How did you know I like vodka?” she asked.
“Lucky guess,” I admitted with a smile. I arched an eyebrow at her. “That accent of yours. Greek, isn’t it?”
She brightened a little, genuinely surprised. “Wow, I’m impressed. You’re the first one to guess it right. I’ve been listening to guys ask if I’m Russian all night.”
“That one wasn’t a guess,” I said, still not turning my body to face her. I was still sizing this one up, after all. “I’ve had business there a few times. But wait, Russian? Really?”
“I know, right?” she said with a laugh, rolling her eyes.
“So, what brings you all the way to Florida?” I asked. “Law school?”
She blushed, giggling. “Flattering, but I’m out celebrating a job with a couple of my friends. We just got hired as servers at one of the five-star resorts around here.” She pointed across the open-air bar to the rows upon rows of glittering high-rises that loomed over the beach. “That one’s me,” she said with a smile, knowing there was no way to make out individual hotels here.
I laughed, leaning into her and pretending to look where she was pointing. “Ahh, yes, that’s a nice one.” She giggled and bumped her hips into me, and I held up my drink to her. “But I think congratulations are in order.”
“I think so too,” she said with a little pride I admired, clinking glasses with me as we drank.
“Where are your friends?” I asked, looking around the bar. She rolled her eyes and pointed to a couple of men in short-shorts who had their hands in each other’s back pockets, clearly flirting with each other.
“They’re here, just a little distracted,” she said, leaning into me and smiling. “I’m feeling...what do you call it, ‘third wheel syndrome’?”
I laughed, sliding my hand around her waist and feeling the soft give of her hips, drawing them into me. She put up no resistance, her eyes lidded as she looked up at me. “Close enough,” I said in a low tone, “but spending the night as a third wheel is no way to celebrate a new job.”
“No, it isn’t,” she said in a matter-of-fact tone, her eyes sparkling hopefully up at me. “What do you suggest?”
My smile grew more meaningful, and I reached down to brush a little curly hair away from her ear to whisper into it in a husky tone. “I think we should fix that,” my voice rumbled softly, and I felt her shiver, her smile growing. “And give you a taste of something you deserve.”
She didn’t need much more encouragement. They never did. She quickly finished off her drink and set it on the bar, and I took out a wad of cash that I placed next to it, nodding to the bartender.
The Greek girl’s eyes widened at the hundreds I just put down. Before I could let her ask questions, I tugged her along with me, my hand still on her waist.
“The extra is taxi fare for her friends,” I told the bartender, nodding to the two men who were too wrapped up in each other to notice me and the girl. She nodded, and the girl smiled up at me as I led her away.
“You didn’t need to do that,” she said.