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“Let’s get a table?” I ask Ashley, but I’m not really fucking asking because I lead her over and sit her down.
“It’s a nice place,” Ashley says as she looks around. “I’m surprised.”
“Surprised that I would come here?” I ask.
“Surprised that you’re going through the effort,” she says and smiles at me. “Oh don’t get me wrong. I totally appreciate it and love the fact that we’re on a real date.”
“What the fuck would we be doing otherwise?” I ask. I’m fucking sorry but I can’t help myself.
“Fuck,” she says, and her eyes are looking right at me. I’m silent. “A part of me thought we’d get right down to that and this was some elaborate hotel so you wouldn’t have to go far.”
“I live at One57,” I tell her. “So I’m literally a block away.”
Ashley rolls her eyes. “Well that makes sense now,” she says.
“You think someone like me isn’t able to take girls on dates?” I ask a bit curious where this conversation is going.
“You stole my cab,” she says with a twinkle in her eye. “Coming out of a strip club. Which is all I know about you. Sorry for not expecting more out of you.”
I laugh. She smiles at me. You’re probably looking at me thinking I’ve gone fucking crazy. Laughing at what she said.
But don’t forget. I’m the one in control here. Not her. My laughing is just a sign that I’m not fucking threatened. Because I’m not.
“Then what the fuck are you doing here?” I ask. Yeah, yeah, I know what you’re going to say. But she said ‘fuck’ first.
“Waiting to see how you’re going to try and fuck me,” she says and leans back as the waiter brings our dirty martinis to the table. He gives her a sidelong glance, obviously hearing the last part of our exchange. Ashley smiles and twirls her hair in one finger absently.
“What do you do?” she asks me.
I raise my glass. “Steal cabs from women outside of strip clubs so I can rescue them from ex-boyfriends during the day.”
She smiles and raises her glass and we click in a toast. “Thank you for the other night,” she says to me.
“Don’t mention it,” I tell her. “I was just passing by.”
“I hope you know that it doesn’t entitle you to sleep with me or anything like that,” she says to me, staring into my eyes.
“I don’t think it entitles me to anything,” I say to her and she looks at me with curiosity. Where am I taking this, she’s probably wondering. “But I know you’re still wondering what it would be like if I fucked you.”
If I’d gotten up and whipped out my 12-inch cock and waved it around, Ashley wouldn’t be any more surprised it seems like.
“That’s what I’m wondering?” she asks me, her eyes wide.
I nod my head. “Since you got on your way over here. You’re also wondering about these tattoos you can faintly see underneath my shirt the way your eyes are moving.”
Ashley takes a sip of her martini and leans closer on the table toward me.
“What else am I thinking?” she asks, this time into a bit more of a smile. “I’m curious because you seem to know so much better than I do.”
“You’re thinking if my apartment is only a block away, how you can legitimately end up giving me an opportunity to ask you to come up,” I reply back to her, not breaking her stare.
“So you can fuck me?” she asks, pretending to make sure.
“So you can cum till you pass the fuck out,” I clarify for her.
“That good?” she asks back with an arched eyebrow.
“Even better,” I parry back to her.
