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SIMON
It’s been three days since I last spoke to Myka. Let me make that clear. It’s been three days since I spoke to her directly. She has been sharing messages with me and the team through Lenny and Amber, but not directly to us. It’s none of my business, really, but ever since that afternoon presser when her boyfriend showed up, unannounced, mind you, she has been as quiet as a summer’s breeze.
Today, I find myself at a bit out of sorts with my internal thoughts, which led me to where I am now. A bar near my home. Sure, I can fix myself a drink or two in the privacy of my own four walls, but the comfort of strangers is what I’m missing.
“Would you like another?” the barkeep asks.
I raise my index finger, indicating a single round, and then polish off the last of the brown liquid swirling in the bottom of the glass.
“A brown liquor man. From over there, I thought you were a vodka kind of guy,” a bar patron says.
I turn to see who is gracing my ears with her sweet melodious voice. The voice does nothing for the vision that is standing before me. The average height, buxom blonde beauty is a view of loveliness. Her bright fire-engine-red lips match her fitted dress and heels.
She smiles when she sees me staring at her from head to toe.
“Well, aren’t you a vision? Can I offer you a drink?”
“That would be lovely.”
I stand to help her in the chair beside me, also to get a view of her backside. I wasn’t expecting the low cut all the way down to the top of her tailbone. She even has a tattoo on her back making her more enticing.
I signal for the bartender when I sit back down. “Can you get the lady here whatever she would like?”
“I’ll have a dirty martini. Extra dirty.” She looks at me devilishly and licks her lips lightly.
“Coming right up.” He saunters away to make her beverage.
“That’s a lovely tattoo you have on your back. Did it hurt?”
“Not really. I have a high tolerance for pain.”
The bartender places a napkin down in front of her, followed by her drink.
She plucks one of the skewered olives of the pick and seductively plops it into her mouth. Most women don’t come on as strong as she does, but I’m curious if she’s a news reporter.
“Are you a hooker?” I ask.
“Good fuck, no. I’m just a girl, in a bar, talking to a sexy man, trying to get laid. Are you not interested? Or am I not your type?” She slowly licks the olives remaining on the small skewer, her tongue moving between them in an arousing manner.
I down my drink quickly and signal for another while giving her the once over again. “You’ll have to prove you’re not wearing a wire or have some kind of recording device on you.”
“Why? Are you some sort of celebrity?” she laughs.
The bartender looks at me then to her before tipping her to my identity with a glance and a nod toward the back wall where our autographed picture hangs.
She peers at the object and her jaw falls open. “Oh shit. You’re Simon Ashton? I swear I had no clue. I just thought you were a nice man with a nice ass I’d like to bite. Now knowing who you are, I think I’d want to do more than bite it.” She jots down a number on the back of a business card and hands it to me. “I’m only here for the night. I’m staying over at the Four Seasons, room 241,” she whispers in my ear. She nips me on my earlobe, stirring up great trouble in my pants.
“Thanks for the drink,” she announces and walks out of the bar.
Keeping her in my sights, I take in every sexy, stiletto step. Including the moment, she climbs into the waiting vehicle, and I see a perfect glimpse of her naked pussy.
“Now, that was some strange encounter, don’t you think?” the bartender asks.
“Not really, mate. When you’re a celebrity, things like this happen all the time. Sometimes even hotter.”
I flip over the business card she handed to me and glance at it while I mentally debate if I should take her up on her not-so-subtle offer. Myka said to stay out of the public eye with my indiscretions. I guess a little stay over at the Four Seasons would only appear innocent if I checked into my own room.
“You’ve been staring at that card a long time. Are you thinking about it?”
