Jasmine stepped out of the elevator with a plan formulating in her head.
It had been a long week. Bills to pay, cats to bathe, and floors that needed scrubbing while bed linens hanged up to dry in the fresh sunshine. Nothing she couldn’t handle, but with so much going on in a short amount of time, she needed more than a drink. Jasmine needed an adventure.
The soft lights, the plush carpet, and the slightly perfumed air of the classy bar were her first signs that she came to the right place. Nothing like some relaxation at the ritziest joint in town. All right, it wasn’t the “ritziest.” However, it was damn near close, and when Jasmine formulated her plan she knew it had to be enacted in The Royal Luxury’s bar and cocktail lounge.
The hour was late. Not so late that they would soon start shooing people out, but late enough that the post-dinner rush was over. The guests here were those who had nowhere else to go, or at least didn’t want to go where they were supposed to be. Most of them were alone, like the man in a booth who read a book on his tablet while sipping a glass of brown. He was older, wrinkled. A few gray hairs that added character but detracted from sex appeal. Besides, he had a ring on his finger.
He was far from the only lonely man in the bar. There were a few more, each of them seated far away from the others and reading newspapers, cell phones, and paper books. One man had a binder full of charts and graphs that he studied with a sigh here and a head scratch there. Someone has a big presentation in the morning. Jasmine thought about wishing him luck as she walked by, but thought better of it.
She was distracted anyway. Distracted by the devilishly handsome man sitting at the bar with a glass of scotch and an oversized phone.
The man was one of the younger ones in there, with a smooth face and hair as dark as it was ten years ago – no hair dye in sight. His stature would shame a meditating monk. Fifty years ago a man like this would be smoking an expensive cigarette or cigar. No, he was a modern man. Liquor was his late-night mistress.
Him. Jasmine decided it in an instance. That man. He was the one she would seduce that night. A hard working girl deserved her fun once in a while… it helped that the man’s hand was bare of any rocks or gold. Not that it means anything these days.
The scent of money overcame her as she stepped closer to the bar. The cologne, the mild aftershave, the liquor that oozed more poise in one glass than a model could achieve in a Vogue photoshoot. Jasmine pulled out her compact mirror and checked that she had no errant hairs and nothing stuck in her teeth. She didn’t know about other women, but so far her track record of looking like a mess while seducing a man was a big fat mean zero.
“I’ll have an apple martini,” she told the bartender as she slipped onto a seat only one away from Mr. Dreamy.
She kept her eyes on the young man tending the bar, but kept a close lookout for how the businessman in a suit responded. He barely did. Jasmine got one glance before he went back to his phone. Guh! Not gonna offer to pay for my drink? She picked a tricky one. Luckily she was wearing her sexiest red dress. She had it on good authority that she was “positively radiant” in it, although that last guy could have been spinning webs to catch her in his trap.
“That’ll be eight dollars.” The bartender placed the small glass on a napkin before scooting the whole thing toward Jasmine. She looked at it, looked at the bartender, and then looked at the man sitting near them. Really? Eventually Jasmine was forced to pull out her wallet and slip the man a five and three ones. This was going to be harder than she thought.
Of course, she liked it hard.
“Thank you.” Jasmine waited for the bartender to step away before taking her first sip. Sweet. Subtle. The alcohol in it soothed the first of her worries at the end of a long week. Could use other things to feel better, though. She looked at the man in a suit. A nice suit. A cut suit, tailored to his body. Money, money, money. This man oozed it, unless he had some benefactor in Italy handing him Armani suits. Either way, Jasmine could dig it. “Lonely night?” she asked, hoping her voice wouldn’t tremble and betray the few nerves left within her.
She got a furtive glance, but that was it. Whatever was on the man’s phone must have been captivating. Probably porn. Jasmine glanced at the man’s lap. Maybe not.
“Here for business?” He looked it. This hotel catered to the wealthy businessmen traveling through the area and looking for a cozy place to sleep and shower. And meet their mistresses. Since entering the business world, Jasmine was crestfallen to learn how much cheating went on during business trips. “Or maybe… pleasure?”
I sound so hokey! The only thing that could make this worse was putting on a terrible grin that advertised what a dork she was. When she gathered the courage to look at the man again, all she saw was a twitch at the corner of his mouth and a tap of his fingers against the counter.
“Business,” he muttered, a voice cool and firm echoing in his throat. Jasmine shivered. Could’ve been the martini, but she was pretty sure it was this damned good looking stranger.
Jasmine waited for him to say something else, but the man was too preoccupied with his phone to care about her. There should be a law about being attached to those stupid things. “In town for much longer?”
Now he looked up, that chiseled jaw and those piercing eyes shooting daggers into Jasmine’s chest. Shit, I picked a doozy! He could destroy women with a look like that. “Only another day. Why? Do I know you?”
Jasmine sat up straight, her sweater slipping off her shoulder as she pushed her chest out and tossed her dark hair behind her. Think sexy. Think glamorous. Think… I dunno, unzipping those pants and taking him for a spin. Think it! Jasmine didn’t believe in psychic connections, but if they were possible, she was going to make sure Mr. Stranger picked up on every image projecting from her mind. The first one was her hand reaching between his legs to find out how big he was. Oh, and those taut lips nibbling on her ear. “My name’s Jasmine.” She held out her hand, weakly, showcasing how delicate she was. Men liked the idea of going at a dainty gal, right? Think about fucking me. You know you want to. Boy, she was bolder in her brain than she usually gave herself credit for!
The handsome stranger finally put down his phone and gripped the tips of her fingers. “Ethan,” he said with the confidence of a successful businessman. Got him. Or so Jasmine thought until the man picked up his phone again, Email. Internet. Solitaire. Even solitaire was more interesting than talking to her. At least he touched me. Jasmine resituated herself in her seat and flicked her finger against her martini glass.
“You alone, Ethan?” What the hell. She had little to lose in this situation. Just her pride. It wasn’t worth much anyway.
His finger continued to tap his cell phone screen. “Nobody is really alone these days. Big Brother, and all that.”
“He finding anything good on that phone of yours?”
At last, she got a laugh out of him. Adorable. Jasmine would bet a paycheck that Ethan’s genuine laughter was a sight to behold. “Afraid not. I’m terribly boring.”
Jasmine had to make some quick decisions regarding how to take this one-sided flirtation to the next level. I’m determined. She came to that bar to find her a man for the night. She came to Ethan because he was the biggest stud in the room. Now unzip your pants and show me what you got. Patience, patience. “I’m not boring.”
Tension mounted between them. Hopefully, it was sexual. Either way, Jasmine finally had his full attention, and the man in a suit gazed at her with nothing but intrigue swirling in his eyes. Thinking about me, eh? Jasmine slipped forward, allowing her chest to prominently display on the counter. Oh ho ho. Somebody’s eyes went right to her breasts. At the end of the day, they were both animals.
Ethan flagged down the bartender and ordered another drink. “Get her another one of those. My tab.” About damn time. A girl shouldn’t have to work so hard to get a free drink.
At this point Jasmine had no idea what she was doing. In truth, she rarely approached men like this. She was safe, disinterested. Her dating life usually amounted to men approaching and asking her out. Sometimes she went on blind dates set up by friends and family. But she rarely, rarely approached a guy on her own. She was much more likely to ignore them, admire them from far away but do nothing, or become startled when they approached her. Taking the initiative was something beyond her comfort zone.
Yet she woke up that day with the determination to make it happen. She would do it. She would go out that evening and find a man worth seducing. Sometimes a woman needed to prove to herself that she had the power. Men always had the power. Just for one night Jasmine wanted to make the decisions and take hold of her sexual fate.
Her fantasies, however, usually included not knowing the man’s name. Now she knew Ethan’s name, so there was that.
The bartender returned with their drinks and made himself scarce again. How many hookups did he see happen in this hotel lounge? Did he ever get jealous? Why did Jasmine care? Because he’s probably judging me. “Thanks for the drink,” she said, swirling her fingertip in her glass before tasting it. “It’s been a long week.”