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Traitors.
I step outside and search for an Uber, putting in the Wild Horse bar as my destination. I always get lucky there. Tons of chicks with no expectations. Thank God. One minute away. I raise my head to the sky and breathe in the crisp night air, contemplating finding new friends. The Uber pulls up, and I throw myself into the backseat, shoving my hands through my impeccable sandy-blond hair. All the good times, the fun we had…it’s all come to a halt. Fun isn’t even in their vocabulary. One by one, they’re getting neutered. Those chicks must have magical vaginas. There’s no other way to explain how they’re doing it.
“S’up, man?” the driver says. “See you’re headed to the Wild Horse. Hope you’re single. I just dropped off my third carload of chicks there. Seems to be the place tonight if you’re looking for a good time.”
Now he’s speaking my language. I sit forward. “Oh yeah? Do tell.”
“Think you’re the one who’s gonna have to tell me. Wish I wasn’t on the clock. Otherwise, I’d make a stop there myself.”
Hells yeah! Chicks. Tons of them. My kind of night. “Well, let’s get a move on, my man.” I lean back, feeling a little less uptight and more intrigued by the night to come.
The driver drops me off, handing me his card if I need a ride home. I thank him and make my way into the bar. The place is packed. Nineties music blares from the speakers along the packed dancefloor. He wasn’t lying. Chicks are everywhere. There has to be a solid eight-to-two ratio.
I brush my palms together. “Gotta love wedding season.” Every female within a hundred-mile radius celebrating their bestie, cousin, sister’s last outing of singlehood. Bridesmaids are my specialty. And the single ones are the easiest to spot. Always dressed in outfits that would make their grannies keel over.
Little things set each bridesmaid apart. The married ones always have their tits on full display, though they still wear their family locket with their kids and husband around their neck. The ones who have boyfriends love to flash all aspects of their body and offer themselves on the dancefloor, knowing their friends will pull them away before anything goes too far. And then there are the single ones—the ones thirsty for attention and waiting for someone like me to swoop in, charm their panties off, and offer them a night to remember.
My single lady radar is off the charts. Like a hungry lion who just walked into a den full of prey, my Cheshire smile almost hurts as I head over to the bar. I need a drink or two before I choose my main course for the night.
“What can I get ya, bud?” the bartender asks as I slide onto an open stool.
“Double tequila soda.” I slap a twenty onto the bar and rotate in my stool to get a full view of the menu. Brunette? Redhead? Maybe a blonde—?
Sniffling from my right steals my attention. I twist on the stool to check out the poor sap next to me, not sure how anyone can strike out when there’s enough to go around.
“Hey…uh, you okay?” I ask, shocked to find a petite blonde. Blondes aren’t typically my first pick—especially not crying ones. My comfort level dips. The girl doesn’t answer me as another tear slides down her cheek.
I tap my foot on my chair and look over to the bartender, hoping he hurries up with my drink so I can move on. Consoling crying chicks is more Ben’s department.
“Sorry, I’ve just…my…my…”
Ahhh…let me guess. The breakup cry. I’ve been the saving grace for a few of those. No better way to get over one than to get under another. Looks like this may be my department after all.
“…dad. He just passed away.”
Way off. Shame I don’t do mourning chicks. They require lots of cuddling afterward—not my area of expertise. She turns toward me as I let her down gently. “Yeah, sorry but—sweet Jesus…” I choke as she removes her hands from her face and I catch my first sight of her. I swear, an angel just fell from heaven and landed next to me. Words escape me. I stutter out some, but it’s all gibberish. Shit. I blink. My dick pokes at my jeans, wanting a peek for himself.
“Are…are you okay?” Her voice is as magical as the mouth it’s coming from. Mmm, mouth. Pink, plump—
“Hello?”
Who? What?
I shake my head. “Uh…yeah. Fine.” Just confused how anyone can be so painstakingly beautiful—say what? I need to rip my eyes away and search out the pussy who just used the words painstakingly beautiful. Tears stain her rosy cheeks. Her skin practically sparkles. Not like my favorite vampire movie, which is fucking awesome—keeping that one to myself—but damn, is this chick flawless. I take in her eyes, a deep set of silver sparkling with flecks of blue, sucking me into a trance. I feel like a damn bug flying into the blue light.
