He’s sitting on the stool at the end of the bar to the left, looking like a timid animal. I’m not sure how I missed him when he walked in. He wasn’t sitting there when I came up to the bar last time. I must have been looking the other way or distracted by the fight that nearly broke out. It happens now and then. People think they can handle this with their partners, and it turns out they can’t. It’s why I could never consider that particular type of set up. I can’t handle jealousy or someone trying to control my life. I’m the one who needs control, in all aspects, and I won’t have someone else telling me what to do. I’m forty-six, for Christ’s sake. I’m not a child and won’t be treated like one.
“What is he drinking?” I ask Missy, nodding to the young man I’ve been eying.
He’s just my type. Not too muscular, but not too skinny. He looks healthy but not like he cares about being strong. His dark hair is slightly too long, a few strands hanging over his forehead in a messy way. It’ll give me something to run my fingers through while he kneels for me. His lips are full and pink, and I can see how thick his lashes are from here. He’s a pretty boy, and a pretty boy is exactly what I’m after.
“You should ask him,” the bartender says, winking at me.
Of course it’s not her job to scout people for me, or for anyone else, but I notice the way some of them assist in meetings.They get a feel for people’s personalities and can tell if they don’t want to be bothered, even if their wristband says otherwise. Something about this boy must tell her that he won’t mind me going up to him. So, I do just that. Confidence is not something I am lacking. I want what I want, and I’m not afraid to take it or persuade someone into it.
After I get my drink, I walk to the end of the bar and move between him and the woman beside him, who is talking to someone on her other side.
“Good evening,” I say, looking directly at him.
When he looks at me, his eyes widen, flick down to my tie and stare there long enough for his lips to part. Then his bright eyes dart back to mine. They’re the same shade as my tie, a beautiful sky blue. Crystal clear. It’s my favorite color.
He’s younger up close, but he looks tired. Maybe he’s been here a while. It is getting late.
“Hello,” he says in a soft, smooth voice. “Uh, good evening.”
“I’d like to buy you a drink,” I say boldly.
“Oh, uh, okay. Sure.”
“What are you drinking?” I ask.
He glances at his empty glass, before putting those beautiful eyes back on me.
“Vodka and cranberry, but it wasn’t very good.”
“May I suggest something else?”
“Please.”
I gesture for Missy, who comes over with a polite but knowing smile. “What can I get for you, gentlemen?”
“My usual, and an orange tea for him.” I glance back at him. “Him?” I question, realizing I should have asked before assuming.
“Yes,” he says.
I nod in acknowledgement, and ask, “Would you like to go somewhere we can talk better?”
“Yes.”
Our drinks come a moment later, and I step back, giving him room to stand. “Which floor would you like to go to?” I ask as I hand him his glass.
“You pick,” he says quickly.
“Is this your first time here?” I ask as I walk with him to the elevator, taking the lead while keeping an eye that he’s following.
“Is it that obvious?”
I smirk as we step onto the car and press the button for floor three. “A little. But I will admit it’s endearing.”
The doors close and open up a moment later. We step into an open room that is much quieter than the one downstairs. Soft, classical music plays up here, drifting through small speakers in the corners. It’s a calmer and more relaxed setting.
“May I show you my favorite spot?” I ask.
“Yes.”