โSheโs totally checking me out.โ โSuuuuuure, bro.โ
โShe keeps looking over here! She wants
me.โ
โThereโs no way a hot young thing like her is checking out an old man like you.โ
โIโm only twenty-eight!โ
โSeriously? Thatโs even more ancient than I thought.โ
I smother a laugh. Iโve been eavesdropping on this trio of stockbrokers for the past twenty minutes. Well, I donโt know if theyโre actually stockbrokers, but theyโre wearing tailored suits and drinking expensive liquor in the cityโs financial district, so chances are they work in finance.
Me, Iโm the lumbering jock in ripped jeans and an Under Armour sweater, nursing a bottle of beer at the end of the bar. I was lucky to find an empty seat; the place is packed tonight. With the holiday season in full swing, Boston bars are overflowing with patrons taking time off from work or school.
The three dudes Iโm spying on barely glanced my way when I slid onto the neighboring stool, which makes it easier to listen in on their douchey conversation.
โSo whatโs the final score for Baker?โ one of the men asks.
He and his blond friend study their dark-haired friendโ the ancient one. โEight percent,โ the first guy says.
The blond is more generous. โTen percent.โ
โLetโs split the difference and give him a nine. Thatโs nine-to-one odds.โ
Although, maybe theyโreย notย finance guys. Iโve been trying to figure out their calculation process, but it seems completely arbitrary and not based in any real mathematics.
โFuck you both. Iโve got a way better chance than that,โ Baker protests. โHave youย seenย this watch?โ He flicks up his left wrist to show off a shiny Rolex.
โNine to one,โ the first guy maintains. โTake it or leave it.โ
Mr. Rolex grumbles in irritation as he slaps some money on the counter. The other two follow suit.
From what Iโve gleaned, their game goes something like this:
Step 1: One of them picks out a woman in the bar.
Step 2: The other two calculate (I use that word loosely) the odds of the first guy getting her number.
Step 3: They drop oodles of cash on the counter.
Step 4: The guy approaches the girl and inevitably gets rejected. He loses the money he bet, only to get it back in the next round when the next guy also gets rejected.
This entire game is both pointless and stupid.
I sip my beer, watching in amusement as Mr. Rolex saunters over to a stunning woman in a skintight designer dress.
Her nose wrinkles at his approach, which tells me that his buddies are about to win some cash. These guys might be wearing expensive suits, but theyโre still nowhere close to the same league as the women in this bar. And classy
women tend to have no tolerance for immature jackasses, because they know they can do better.
Mr. Rolexโs jaw is tight when he returns to the group. Empty-handed. His friends hoot and rake in their winnings.
Just as the blond guy is about to pick a new target, I set my pint glass on the sleek counter and drawl, โCan I play?โ
Three heads swivel my way. Mr. Rolex takes in my casual clothes, then smirks. โYeah, sorry, pal. You canโt afford this game.โ
Rolling my eyes, I slide my wallet out of my pocket and ri๏ฌe through itโgiving them a clear view of all the cash inside. โTry me,โ I say graciously.
โYouโve just been sitting there this whole time listening to us?โ the blond one demands.
โItโs not like you were being quiet about it. And anyway, I like to gamble. Doesnโt matter what weโre gambling over
โIโm there. With that said, what are my chances withโฆโ My gaze conducts a slow sweep of the crowded room. โHer,โ I finish.
Rather than follow my gaze, three sets of eyes remain glued to me.
They appraise me for several long beats, as if trying to decide if Iโm fucking with them. So I hop off the stool and ease closer to the trio. โLook at her. Sheโs fire. Do you think a bum like me could get her number?โ
Mr. Rolex is the first to relax his guard. โHer?โ he says, nodding not so discreetly at the pretty girl whoโs ordering a drink with the bartender. โYou mean Little Miss Innocent?โ
Heโs not wrong. Thereโs definitely an air of innocence to her. A delicate profile reveals a smattering of freckles on her nose, and her light-brown hair is loose around her shoulders rather than up in a complicated style like some of the other chicks in this place. Despite her tight black sweater and short skirt, sheโs more girl-next-door than sex kitten.
The dark-haired friend snorts. โYeah, good luck with that.โ
I flick up my eyebrows. โWhat, you think I donโt have a shot?โ
โDude, look at you. Youโre, like, a jock, right?โ โEither that or heโs on โroids,โ the blond guy cracks.
โIโm an athlete,โ I confirm, but I donโt offer more details. Clearly these guys arenโt rabid hockey fans, otherwise theyโd recognize me as Bostonโs latest rookie.
Or maybe they wouldnโt. Itโs not like Iโve been seeing a crazy amount of ice time since I was called up from the farm team to the pros. Iโm still trying to prove myself to my coach and teammates. Though I did get an assist last game, which was cool.
But a goal wouldโve been cooler.
โYeah, a sweet thing like that would be too intimidated,โ Mr. Rolex informs me. โOdds of you getting her number areโฆtwenty to one.โ
His buddies agree. โThatโs a twenty-five percent chance,โ one says. Because again, their math is nonsensical.
โWhat if I want more than her number?โ I challenge.
The blond snickers. โYou want to know your odds of going home with her? A hundred to one.โ
I gaze at the brunette again. Sheโs wearing black suede ankle boots with chunky heels, one leg crossed over the other as she daintily sips her drink. Sheโs cute as hell.
โTwo hundred bucks says I get her to stick her tongue down my throat in less than five minutes,โ I boast with an arrogant smirk.
My new friends bust out in incredulous laughter.
โUh, sure, bro.โ Mr. Rolex chuckles. โIn case you havenโt noticed, the women in this joint are pure class. Not a single one would hook up with you in public.โ
Iโm already dropping two hundreds on the counter. โScared of my sexual prowess, huh?โ I mock.
โHa! Fine then. Iโll bite,โ the blond guy says, placing two bills on top of mine. โGo ahead and get your ass rejected, Loverboy.โ
I pick up my glass and drain the rest of my beer. โLiquid courage,โ I tell the trio, and Mr. Rolex rolls his eyes. โNow watch and learn.โ
Winking, I amble off.
Instantly, her attention fixes on me. A hint of a smile, albeit soft with shyness, tugs at her mouth. Fuck, sheโs got nice lips. Full and pink and glossy.
When our gazes lock, itโs as if everyone else in the bar disappears. Her brown eyes are pretty and expressive, and right now theyโre expressing a sweet hunger that quickens my pulse. Iโm trapped in her orbit, my legs speeding up of their own volition.
A second later Iโm beside her, greeting her with a rough, โHey.โ
โHi,โ she replies.
She has to tilt her head to look at me, because sheโs seated and Iโm towering over her. I was always a big guy, but Iโve bulked up even more since I started playing hockey at a higher level. Skating in the pros is physically demanding.
โCan I buy you a drink?โ I offer.
She lifts her full glass. โNo, thank you. Iโve already got one.โ
โThen Iโll buy your next one.โ
โThere wonโt be a next one. I donโt trust myself.โ โWhyโs that?โ
โIโm a lightweight. One drink makes me tipsy.โ Her lips curve slightly. โTwo drinks make me do bad things.โ
Damned if my dick doesnโt twitch at that. โHow bad?โ I drawl.
Although she blushes, she doesnโt shy away from the question. โVeryย bad.โ
I grin at her, then flag the bartender with a fast, exaggerated gesture. โAnother drink for the lady,โ I call.
She laughs, and the melodic sound sends prickles of sensation through me. Iโm insanely attracted to her.
Rather than take the empty stool beside her, I remain standing. But I do edge closer, and her knee lightly brushes my hip. I swear I hear her breath hitch at the slight contact.
I glance over and spot my new friends watching us with deep interest. Mr. Rolex taps his watch dramatically as if to remind me the clock is ticking.
โSo, listenโฆโ I bring my lips close to her ear so she can hear me. This time Iย seeย her breath hitch. Her perky breasts rise as she sucks in air. โMy buddies gave me a twenty-five percent chance of getting your number.โ
Her eyes dance devilishly. โWow. They donโt have much faith in you, huh? Iโm sorry.โ
โDonโt be sorry. Iโve beaten greater odds than that. Butโฆlemme tell you a secretโฆโ My mouth brushes her earlobe as I whisper, โI donโt want your number.โ
She jolts in surprise, her gaze snapping to mine. โYou donโt?โ
โNope.โ
โThen what do you want?โ She picks up her drink and takes a hasty sip.
I think it over for a moment. โI want to kiss you.โ
A startled laugh now. โUh-huh. Youโre just saying that because you hope Iโll do it, and then you can prove to your friends youโre not a loser.โ
I look over my shoulder again. Mr. Rolex wears a self- satisfied smirk. He taps his watch again. Tick-tock.
My five minutes are almost up. My own watch tells me Iโve only got two left.
โNo,โ I tell her. โThatโs not why I want to kiss you.โ โOh really?โ
โReally.โ I lick my bottom lip. โI want to kiss you because youโre the hottest woman in this bar.โ I shrug. โAnd anyway, itโs obvious you want the same thing.โ
โSays who?โ she challenges.
โSays the fact that you havenโt stopped staring at my mouth since I walked over here.โ
She narrows her eyes.
โSee, hereโs the thing.โ I lightly drag my fingertips along her slender arm. Iโm not touching bare skin, yet she visibly shivers. โMy buddies think youโre Little Miss Innocent. They warned me youโd be intimidated by someone like me. Someone rough and crude. But you know what I think?โ
โWhat?โ Her voice is breathy.
โI think you like rough and crude.โ Once again, I lean in closer. Sheโs wearing a tiny diamond stud, and I canโt help but flick the tip of my tongue over the little earring.
Thereโs another sharp intake of breath, and I feel a tug of satisfaction.
โI donโt think youโre innocent at all,โ I continue. โI donโt think youโre a good girl. I think that right now you want nothing more than to shove your tongue in my mouth and rake your nails down my back and let me fuck you right here in front of everyone.โ
She moans out loud.
The cocky grin is just spreading across my face when she grabs the back of my head and yanks me down for a hard kiss.
โYouโre right,โ she murmurs against my lips. โIโm not a good girl at all.โ
My dick is hard before her tongue even enters my mouth. And when it does, sliding through my parted lips, itโs my turn to moan. She tastes like gin and sex, and I kiss her back hungrily, all the while aware of the loud catcalls surrounding us. Iโm sure some of those yells are coming from my stockbroker friends, but Iโm too busy to bask in their amazement.
As my tongue slicks over hers, I gently nudge one leg between her soft thighs. Letting her feel how hard I am.
โOh my God,โ she mumbles. She breaks the kiss, her eyes gleaming with pure lust. โLetโs get out of here and finish this somewhere private?โ
โNo. I want you now.โ My voice sounds like gravel. She blinks. โNow?โ
โMmm-hmmm.โ I rest one hand on her slim waist, moving my palm in a teasing caress. โI hear the ladiesโ room has real big, private stallsโฆโ
She presses her own palm to the center of my chest. Not to push me away, though. She teases me too, while her hot gaze roams the length of my body. Then she slants her head and asks, โWhat would your girlfriend say about that?โ
I give her a dirty smile. โSheโd sayโฆhurry, John, I need to come.โ
Grace moans again.
โThatโs what I thought,โ I mock, but my girl doesnโt look fazed.
Sometimes itโs hard to believe she was once that nervous, babbling freshman whose dorm I accidentally wound up in. That the sweet Grace Ivers I fell for is this fearless woman in front of me, the sexy vixen whoโs about to let me fuck her in the bathroom.
Granted, Grace picked this bar and researched the cleanliness situation of the bathrooms before agreeing to tonightโs roleplaying exercise. So, yes, sheโs still that weird girl I met years ago. She just also happens to be my hot, sex-starved girlfriend.
I take her hand and pull her off the stool. Iโm still hard as a rock and in need of relief. Judging by her shallow breathing, sheโs as aroused as I am.
โSo what do you say?โ I ask, rubbing the inside of her palm with my thumb.
Grace stands on the tips of her high-heeled boots and presses her lips to my ear. โHurry, John, I need to come.โ
I swallow a desperate laugh as I follow her toward the rear corridor. Before we pass the doorway, I toss a final glance over my shoulder. The stockbrokers are gaping at me as if Iโm an alien from another planet. I gesture to the money on the bar and offer a gracious nod as if to say,ย Keep it all.
I donโt need to win some stupid bet. Iโm already the luckiest man in the bar.
