Belly Up… A sexy short story
It’s 6:55pm when I belly up to the bar. Just in time for the last moments of happy hour. I order my favorite salad, paired with a glass of rose. I pull out my phone, check instagram, twitter, facebook, then my email. Refresh… refresh… refresh… Now what? Bored and buzzed I download the dating app Tinder. “Tinder finds interesting people around you.” I could really go for an interesting experience right about now. Before the app even finishes downloading I notice a ruggedly handsome, tall, dark, Italian stallion enter the bar. He stands across from me ordering scotch on the rocks. When he takes a sip, I scan his left hand, no wedding ring! Wow. He has perfect hands, long thick fingers I can’t help but imagine elsewhere. We lock eyes. I flash him a sexy smile and look away. Before I know it, he’s sitting next to me, ordering me another round of Rose.
We hit it off instantly; chemistry so hot the bartender is uncomfortable. This can’t be real, I think, as I catch myself throwing my head back in laughter for the third time in the last five minutes. We keep our banter light and witty but our stare deep and unwavering. I take my last sip of Rose, and boldly run my hands up his legs. I stop before his bulge to ask, “Where are you parked?” He lets out a little moan, then tells me he’s parked in the garage on Ocean Avenue. Me too! I ask him to walk me. He needs a minute before he can presentably stand up. I wait, seductively suckling an olive. This is not helping.