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Well, until today, apparently, when I saw this bartender and immediately started flirting with her, without knowing for sure if she was free and clear or not. And then, to top off my recklessness, started telling myself all sorts of things I never tell myself. Stuff like, Rules are made to be broken. And, Maybe it wouldn’t be the end of the world if I fucked a wannabe, just once... All the same things I’m telling myself now, yet again, as I watch this siren mesmerize that pack of fraternity boys into handing over all their cash.
Holy shit, she’s mouth-watering. If I were casting her in a music video, I’d make it a tribute to old, black-and-white Italian flicks. The video would take place on a vineyard. She’d be The Vineyard Owner’s Daughter in a peasant dress with a low neckline. The sultry virgin bursting out of her dress, who comes out of her villa with a jug of water and a basket of grapes, just as a group of soldiers shows up demanding lodging...
“Can I get you something?”
I peel my eyes off the siren to find a male bartender standing before me, his eyes narrowed. He looks like a younger version of Henn. A wouldn’t-hurt-a-fly kind of guy with a goatee, the same as my sweet best friend—although, unlike Henny, this dude has forearm tattoos. Clearly, the ink is his attempt at “edging up” his classic nerd-vibe. It’s not a bad look for him, actually.
“I’ll wait to order from her,” I say, motioning to the object of my lust at the other end of the bar. “We met today on-campus. I’d like to say hello.”
The guy flashes me a look of disdain that says, You and every guy in this bar, douchebag. But all he says is, “I’ll let Georgina know.”
Georgina. It’s the perfect name for her—a name I’ll enjoy growling into her ear as I fuck her raw, without mercy...
No, Reed.
Stop.
You’re almost certainly not going to fuck this little college kiddie, with or without mercy, because she’s almost certainly an off-limits wannabe. Not to mention, quite possibly, a fucking teenager. Although, come to think of it, if she works behind the bar, she’s got to be at least twenty-one...
It doesn’t matter, my brain says. She was at an event for music students. Walk away.
But I want her, my dick replies, rather forcefully.
Well, tough shit, my brain replies. You can find out why she left with CeeCee today, simply to satisfy your curiosity, but that’s it. After that, you’re going to walk away and shoot pool with your best friends, and forget this gloriously endowed goddess with the most kissable lips you’ve ever seen exists.
My dick laughs heartily at that. And so, I laugh, too. Out loud. Like a fucking lunatic.
The bartender whispers something into sultry Georgina’s ear that makes her turn around. And when she spots me, a wide smile spreads across her sensuous mouth.
Returning her smile, I put my arms up like, I guess it’s fate, huh?
She saunters over to me like she owns the joint, places her elbows onto the bar, and leans over, giving me a much-appreciated view of her pushed-up tits in her tank. “Well, well, well,” she says. “Look what the cat dragged in. Did you follow me here, Mr. Rivers?”
Up close, she’s mesmerizing. Irresistible. I swear, if this supernatural girl can sing a note, and maybe even if she can’t, I’m going to launch her to the top of the pop charts, even if I have to buy stock in Auto-Tune to do it. “I wish I could take credit for this happy reunion,” I say. “But this is pure coincidence...” I look down at Georgina’s nametag, just for appearance’s sake. “Georgina. Or should I call you Miss... ?”
“Ricci. But, no. Call me Georgina or Georgie.” She extends her hand with full confidence, and when I slide my palm in hers, my skin ignites at the point of contact. Lust. It’s palpable. Undeniable. Sending my heart rate skyrocketing and my dick tingling.
I want her, my dick shouts, deftly muting out my brain’s objections.
“Hello, Georgina,” I say, shaking her hand. “Georgie. And, please, call me... Mr. Rivers.”
She laughs. “Well, that hardly seems fair.”
“Life isn’t fair.” I lean forward, a wide smile etched onto my face. “Although, sometimes, it can be pretty fucking awesome, when you least expect it.”
She returns my smile, a gleam in her hazel eyes. “This truly is a coincidence?”
“I’m smart, but not clairvoyant. I was at dinner with friends, and then happened to stop in here. How could I possibly have known you work here?”
“You could have followed me. Or had me followed.”
“Pretty sure that’s what’s known as stalking, sweetheart. Way beneath my pay grade.”
“You sure about that? I’m getting a serious stalker vibe from you.”
“Okay, full disclosure, I was going to call CeeCee tomorrow to gather intel about you, in order to track you down. So, maybe stalking isn’t beneath me so much as your accusation is a day premature.”
