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Am I reading things right? The women who approached him were thin and pretty, and not a few with enhanced assets. Most guys would eat that up, and have three women swinging from their arms by now. I’m at a loss. Maybe he’s gay?
That would certainly explain his eye for detail. His stubble is perfectly imperfect, as though it just grows that way. His chocolate brown hair is stylishly rough, yet smoothed back without looking too done. He has nice lips for biting, not too big, not too small, yet perfectly sensuous. I can’t see his eyes because of the mask, but I can sense their heated stare.
To my surprise, that heated stare surveys the room once more, and then lands on me. A jolt rockets up my spine, and I force myself to stay still even as my heartbeat accelerates. Is he looking at me?
Sure enough, the man nods, and his eyes sparkle behind the mask. I smile faintly, nod, and try to hide my surprise. I’m a bigger girl, and this corset only emphasizes that. Is he really attracted to me?
But then, we’re interrupted by Red. She comes up next to him and puts a red-manicured hand on his forearm. I sigh. Red is red because she has perfect long auburn hair, always wears red, and is a vicious flirt. Right now, she has on a crimson negligee that really shouldn’t even be called a negligee. It’s more like a handkerchief that barely covers her lush assets.
I sigh and turn away. I don’t stand a chance because Pink Flower once told me Red has been a member of the Cube since forever, and that she always gets what she wants. I mentally shrug and try to contain my disappointment. My night just got a thousand times worse, but oh well. Suddenly, a low voice sounds to my left.
“Come here often?”
I bite my lip and roll my eyes. I don’t really want to be here, and I don’t want to talk with Owl or Caped Crusader again.
“That’s such an old line,” I say before turning. But then my heart stops because it’s not Owl nor is it Caped Crusader. It’s Tiger. His lips turn up at the corner, and he smiles a bit.
“Well, I’m an old guy so I use old lines.”
I bite my lip and let out a giggle.
“You’re not old!” I titter.
He shrugs and quirks another smile at me.
“Some say I am. My daughter, definitely. Can I buy you a drink? Shaken or stirred?”
“Hold on now,” I say. “Are all your lines from old movies?” I tease.
“No,” he smiles, and then leans in as if he wants to confide something to me. I lean close to him too, and breathe lightly of his cologne. It smells like wood and water, very fresh. He quietly admits, “You see, I get nervous when I’m with a beautiful woman, and I tend to fall back on the basics when that happens.”
Is he joking? The twinkle in his eye tells me that he doesn’t get nervous around women. This man knows exactly what he’s doing. Heat rises from my chest and I smile. “Okay, that is a good line.”
“So, can I buy you that drink?”
I tilt my head.
“But you know the Cube is all-inclusive, right?”
He laughs. “That’s the joke, sweetheart. I assure you that for men, the Cube is not free at all.”
I smile.
“Then I’m glad I’m with you. I’ll have what you’re having.”
He orders two bourbons and we find ourselves a quiet corner booth in the back of the lounge. I take a sip of the amber liquid and it burns while going down my throat. He grins.
“Too strong?”
I gasp a little.
“Maybe.”
He laughs, making me shiver a bit. “So tell me. What’s a gorgeous woman like you doing in a place like this?”
I arch an eyebrow
“What’s a handsome guy like you doing in a place like this?”
“Touché,” he grins. “I find that places like the Cube scratch an itch. You?”
“Same,” I sip my bourbon gingerly again. “It’s freeing for me because it’s anonymous and safe. I don’t have to worry about who sees because they’re here for the same thing.”
“And the masks help,” he growls in a low voice.
I nod. There’s something about his voice that renders it oddly familiar but I can’t put my finger on it. It must be nothing, and I shake away the thought. “Indeed.”
“How long have you been coming here?” he asks, sitting back with one strong arm slung over the back of the booth.
“Just over a year. You?”
“Just over a month.”
I laugh. “Still getting used to it all?”
He nods. “But I like getting to meet people like this too. Private, discreet, and even consequence-free, in a manner of speaking. Like you say, it’s liberating.” He leans close to me, and his cologne catches me once more. Again, there’s a strange familiarity about him, but I brush it off. There must be millions of men who wear this particular scent. “I like being free to do what I like,” he adds with a quirk to his lips.
