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I try to shake it off. "No?"
"No." She leans into the table enough for her breasts to press together.
She has nice tits. They'd feel good in my hand. Or around my cock.
"You seem like the type to brag."
"About?"
Her laugh is bold. Knowing. "I guess you don't have to. Not when you have a reputation."
I try to imagine Anna in my bed. Pressing her against the wall. Rolling that dress to her waist and tearing off her bra.
The image flickers in my head. For a second.
Then it's Kaylee against the wall.
My hand up her skirt.
Those doe eyes of hers looking up at me with every ounce of trust in the world.
This isn't how tonight is supposed to go.
I'm supposed to smile at Anna. Return her flirty glance. Go back to her place—I only bring women home when Emma isn't around—and get her begging for release.
But none of that appeals.
I force myself to look back in her eyes. Force my voice to that I know you want to fuck me tone. "Do I?"
She laughs. "Now, I'm pretty sure you're playing coy to mess with me." She wraps her fingers around the stem of her wine glass. Takes her last sip. "I got here early. Right after work."
I nod.
She motions to the bar. "Let me back up." She pushes her empty glass away. "How about a drink?"
"You're buying?"
She laughs. "Well, I did invite you out."
"Doesn't matter."
"You're old fashioned, really?"
In some ways, yeah. I nod.
"The old-fashioned tattoo artist. Hmm... I guess I can see it. Just don't tell me you have a problem with feminism. I can overlook a lot of deal breakers with someone so... well, you know you're handsome."
I nod. "Why would I have a problem with feminism?"
She shrugs. "A lot of guys I... date. They'r
e threatened by women with power. Or a woman who knows what she wants. Or wants to pay."
"I always pay for a first date."
"And the second date?"
They're rarer. Third dates too. Fourth dates—it's been a long, long while since I've had a relationship that lasted longer than three dates. "You negotiating?"
