The Princess Finds Her Match

It was the same feeling he got whenever he encountered a horse for the first time. One look at its eyes and Nic knew whether the horse would allow itself to be mastered by him. Often people thought he was great at training polo ponies. It was only because Nic recognized and picked those ponies with whom he could be one in spirit that they answered to his touch and allowed him to train them.

Great, now he was reduced to comparing women with horses. He recovered his outward equanimity, but his heart was still racing. Did she feel it too? The recognition? Her eyes never left his, and he didn’t know how many minutes passed as they remained in a frozen tableau. She made a slight movement. Nic held his breath, wondering if she would come on to him now. Call him old-fashioned but when it came to the chase, Nic preferred to be the hunter.

But wait. What the bloody hell was she doing? Here he was having a fucking profound moment and in utter bewilderment, Nic saw her taking a bite of her burger. It was a whacking burger and her mouth opened wide to accommodate its size. Juices trickled from the side of her mouth, snaking its way down her wrist. She licked it off, but she never took her cat’s gaze away from his. Nic shifted, growing uncomfortably tight. He was getting bloody turned on by a woman in a fugly red wig eating a hamburger. He caught the gleam in her eyes and suddenly realized he was being played. The saucy witch! He flashed a grin, enjoying the foreplay. Because this was what it was. Nic refused to call it by any other name. He took a swig of his beer to cool himself down. But his little minx was not content to leave it at that. She had the audacity to continue her little game. Her tongue darted out to lick the ketchup off a single chip. Nic suppressed a groan. So she liked to lick, huh? He’d give her his dick later. He mentally reared in comical disgust at his own crassness. But by God, this woman was reducing him to nothing more than a randy teenager.

Nic decided to raise the stakes. He was about to move in for the kill when the lady in the red wig abruptly stood up from her stool and started walking away from the bar, leaving him stupidly staring after her retreating back, her shapely legs, and her pertly rounded bottom. What the −? Nic decided to follow her. She wasn’t allowed to start a raging forest fire and leave him alone to douse the flames.

“Watch it, man!” an aimlessly loitering punk yelled as he quickly jostled him out of his direct path, as if he was in a polo match and he was riding the opposing team off, his eyes locked in on the red wig like a moving target. Nic’s relief was palpable as he spotted her lining up for the ladies’ room. She wasn’t leaving yet. He slumped on the wall at the back of the room beside several television screens, not caring if he looked odd. Hell, this was Vegas. Odd was the norm.

She was about tenth in line. He could see her because he had walked over to the corner at the back end of the room with a good view of the queue. Unlike the other women who were fidgeting, playing with their hair, or laughing with their gal pals, the lady in the red wig held herself quite still. Her arms were crossed below her breasts, a purse or whatever women called it dangling from one hand. Her gaze was fixed on the stage but she made no unnecessary movements. A flash of light from the door of the loo opening illuminated the women and backlit them. Nic spied red wig lady’s fingers drumming on her arm in an irregular rhythm. A nervous tell. Interesting, Nic thought, his eyes never leaving his target.

* * *

“Listen up, people. Let’s give our next performer, a first timer here at The Space Bar, a warm welcome.”

Lexie approached the stage nervously. Right foot step, left foot step. Easy. Now if she could only stop her knees from buckling.

“Let’s all hear it from Red from−,” DJ Twist frowned. He had forgotten to ask where she was from. He shoved the microphone in front of her face.

“I’m−uh, from, a principality,” Lexie blurted out nervously, “far, far away.” Idiot! She couldn’t believe she had just said that. There was snickering from the crowd. She licked her lips, which had suddenly become dry. Somebody wolf−whistled. She hoisted the edge of her bustier dress higher.