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luded her rippling calves, which were now pulled taut in a pair of modest heels.
When it came to meeting men Trixie didn’t have a type per se, aside from what she thought were normal standards; clean, healthy, and at least one attractive attribute, be it dazzling eyes, a seductive smile, or even strong hands. She wasn’t choosey. A girl with her unique disposition in the bedroom couldn’t afford to be overly selective. If a guy was respectful and stood taller than her in heels, then he could potentially have a turn on this ride. Other than that, Trixie cast her net wide.
She found the bar and dining room on the main floor, but it was either too early or she had booked her stay at the most retiring hotel of the village, which was starting to feel more like the case. Barely anyone had come down for dinner, except for one family, the oldest son of which couldn’t remove his eyes from her boobs. Her girls didn’t cause traffic accidents, but they were firm, and her dress accentuated their cleavage well.
Trixie waved cheekily, which was enough to draw his mother’s attention and earn the boy a scolding. The mother didn’t notice her husband stealing a glance as she sat down on a barstool, turning her back to the family. The bartender was a friendly old fellow, who seemed to wink habitually. She browsed through a menu of drinks and kept an eye on the door for new arrivals. Trixie was starting to think she might be better off exploring the village on foot. Maybe she could track down a livelier venue.
“Got any bitter on tap Eldwyn? I could use one tonight,” a man asked the bartender with a deep nonchalant voice.
It belonged to a flat-stomached young man leaning tiredly against the bar. Where did he come from? Nobody had stepped through the door since she arrived. She casually spun her stool around to face him. He hadn’t noticed her yet. The young man stood up and placed both hands into the small of his back. The short sleeves of his white shirt climbed up his arm, revealing a Celtic knot tattoo that ringed his thick upper bicep. Tall, lean, and well-built. He was probably here for the race. His dark brown hair was long on top, but short at the sides. A clean albeit dated look. And to think she had almost left.
The man turned towards her in a slowly articulated stretch. A muscular chest pressed against his shirt. He had an amazing upper body, but abruptly stopped when he spotted her sitting a ways down the bar. Trixie was staring right at him and made no effort to hide as much.
“Oh! Sorry about that. I didn’t see you there,” he said.
He lowered his arms self-consciously. Trixie wondered if he had known she was there and was merely strutting for her benefit. That’s what men in the city did. She was the only other person at the bar, but he didn’t seem like the strutting type. If he was tired before, however, his eyes were alert now.
“Don’t apologize on my account,” Trixie said, “I was enjoying the show.” She smiled and leaned forward on her stool.
Was she flirting already? He was the first glass of water to come along tonight. If she was patient, there might be more. Then again, he might be the only worthwhile drink this place offered. So far the hotel was fixing to be a wasteland of young men.
“Can I offer you a drink? Or perhaps you’re treating... assuming I’m the entertainment,” he said mischievously.
Cheeky. She liked that in a man.
“Sure about that? You could be making a serious misstep with an old fashioned girl like me.”
Eldwyn chortled as he placed a glass of dark ale in front of the young man. Trixie smiled and leaned back against the counter. There was no point in hiding her interest now. She didn’t want to appear desperate, but Trixie was thirsty. So what if she invested quickly? The other option was to stroll through the village in search of a club.
“If you’re old fashioned, then I must be ancient,” the young man said.
He took a drink of his ale and charted the length of her body. Trixie deliberately twisted around to peruse the cocktail menu again. She could practically feel his eyes on her exposed back. He walked over, put his glass down on the counter, and stood close enough to casually offer a hand in greeting while leaning against the bar. He smelled of lavender.
“I’m Cy, short for Cyril. What’s your name?”
“I’ll tell you, but you’d do well not to laugh,” she began. “It’s Trixie.”
Cy looked off to one side, rolling the name around in his mind, and betrayed only the slightest hint of a smirk. Everyone reacted differently. So far Cy short for Cyril was handling himself admirably.
“You’re thinking I made it up aren’t you?” she asked.
“I was considering it.”
“I can’t blame you. I was named after a cyclone that took place where my parents met on vacation.”
“That must have been an impressive storm."
“I suppose," Trixie said, as she circled the rim of his glass with a finger. "Winds over 100 miles per hour. Would you consider that fast, or exactly fast enough?”
To his credit, Cy didn't answer the question, but ordered whatever she wanted as they got to know each other a little better.
2. Panties Be Damned
After chatting for while, Cy paid for their drinks and asked if she’d like to step outside for some fresh air. They exited the hotel and he took her on a stroll through the village. He certainly seemed to know his way around. At first she thought Cy was taking her to another bar, but they passed a boisterous club and continued through the cobblestone streets. They eventually came to an area where it looked like the obstacle course race would be starting tomorrow.
The track was quite a production, with several climbing walls and deep pitfalls near the starting and finish line. Suddenly Trixie wasn’t so sure what she had gotten herself into, but that concern was quickly derailed when Cy slipped an arm around her waist.
“Are you cold?” he asked.
