"It's ok, drink's on me." A man I didn't know came and stood beside me. He had dark hair kept just a tad longer than a gentleman's cut, rich hazel eyes under finely arched brows, a gentle face with a soft grin and strong jaw covered in a thick, raspy stubble. He wore a green crew neck tee featuring some band I had never heard of with a black leather jacket and jeans. Just jeans. Blue ones that fit correctly. They weren't skinny or ripped or anything. He looked... different, probably ten years or so older than me, so in his mid 30s, and very handsome. He also had a kind of aura or charisma that seemed to reach out to me. The only word I could assign to the feeling with my awe-struck brain was just... cool. He was cool, calm, collected with an inherent confidence that didn't need any self-advertising. Definitely not 'bro' like at all, and it instantly turned me on.
"Th-thank you." I stuttered and felt suddenly flushed and nervous. The unwelcome thought bloomed in my mind that I was inadequately dressed for flirting with my hair in a messy, loose ponytail without a stitch of makeup. All I could think was "
Why, why did you refuse the lipstick!?
"
"My pleasure." He smiled then, full and genuine with no hint of subtext. His teeth were straight and even and he had a dimple that popped into existence in his right cheek. I sucked in a breath as if I was drowning in his smile, unable to get enough air.
He stuck out his hand and I took it with slightly shaky fingers. He either didn't notice or didn't comment, but squeezed my hand lightly before letting go. His fingers were long and nimble feeling, but strong too, like someone who played a guitar.
"I'm Mathias, but I hate that, so most people just call me Mat."
"My name is Roxanna, but I go by Roxie, so I get it - names suck."
"Yeah," he laughed, and a sexy smirk lifted one corner of his mouth. I felt my insides squirm in response flashing a hint of a dimple. His voice was deep and smooth, a gentle bass that could be heard quite distinctly from the tinny DJ spun dance music streaming out of the open doors behind us.
"I'll have a Manhattan," he said to the bartender and I snapped my eyes away, realizing that I had been staring. He was taller than me, a mighty 5'11" to my 5' 2" frame, so it was pretty obvious that I was staring with my neck all craned up.
The bartender set our glasses in front of us. I caught my hand trembling as I reached for mine and took a quick sip. There were no seats at the bars in this club, but there were padded benches along the walls and tiny tables for two to four out here. I bit my lip and braved another glance at his handsome face.
"Want to... want to sit together?" I asked. Suddenly I felt like I was back in my first eighth grade dance awkwardly asking my first date if they wanted to go get punch. He smiled down at me again, gentle, no teasing, and simply said, "All right."
I led him on weak ankles over to the nearest two-top table and sat quickly lest my legs should give out on me. His long legs stretched all the way over to my side and I felt a little thrill when the tip of one shoe touched the insole of my left foot.
"So," he said, "Where are you from?"
"Here," I said quickly. Ugh, what was wrong with me? I shook my head. "I mean, I go to San Jose State, but I'm from Northern California, near Redding." He smiled that smile again and I saw the dimple!
"Ah, I see. What is your major?"
"Anthropology." He nodded as the silence grew, waiting for me to expand. It was so much easier with the bros. I didn't have to talk. I just had to look pretty. I shouted in my head to say something else, anything else. "I like it." I blurted out and just stared at him, my mouth open in shock, my face flaming up in a deep blush which I knew he would be able to see in the dark. I mean, my skin was practically neon.
Stupid
.
"That's good. You should like your major, right?" I nodded back. Bless his soul for not saying anything about my blush so that I could regain my composure. We sipped our drinks for a moment until I felt like I could speak again.
"And you? I don't normally see people like you in this kind of club, where did you come from?" Oh. My. God.
People like you
? Have I even talked to another human being before?
Where did you come from?!"
At that I buried my face behind the palm of my hand, my elbow propped on the table.
"I'm sorry, don't answer that," I squeaked out from the safety of my palm. He laughed again, still gentle, not teasing, but indulgent.
"It's ok. I understand what you meant to say. It must be obvious that this isn't my normal haunt. Packed dance club on a Saturday night full of San Jose's brightest and finest..." he shivered and made a face. I couldn't help but smile.
"Ah, that's beautiful."
"What?" I asked, looking around to see what he was talking about.
"Your smile. You are beautiful, Roxie." I gaped at him. I've been told I was beautiful before by a hundred boys inside clubs like this or on campus, wolf-whistling as I walked by, but those words never quite hit like his did just then. They were without embellishment. A straight-forward statement like he was commenting on some mundane fact, like, there's a plant over there, or trees have leaves. Something happened to me then, a kind of quieting inside yet at the same time every bit of me came to life.
"Thank you," I breathed back, barely a whisper.
"You're welcome," he said in that same straight-forward way. Nothing to hide, nothing to gain, nothing to lose. No games, no tricks. Just words.
"To answer your question, I'm in town for my younger brother's bachelor party. This is the end of it actually. We spent the night doing a bar crawl all through these streets. This is the last place we ended up, and as it is filled with ladies that look like you the group decided to stay. They are all in there," he gestured with a tip of his head, "and I am out here."
"Not one for dancing?" I asked. He caught my eye, snaring me at first in their depths only to let his gaze travel down my face, over the shape of my lips, down my throat with its little pulsing beat, over and around my full chest, then back up, just as smooth and slowly. I traced their path until he met my eyes again and my nipples tightened painfully in my black demi-bra.
"No, not this kind of dancing anyway." I don't know if it was my overly sensitive skin, but the word "dancing" took on a whole new meaning when he said it. The flesh on my arms raised in goosebumps. I decided then and there that I wanted the kind of dancing his word implied, with him, right now. I just had to be brave enough to take it. This was all new to me, being the aggressor, being the one to take the chance, the calculated risk. I met his deep brown eyes again with my own, let them rove over his gorgeous face. I knew this was no 'bro.' He would be different, was already different. Primal lust surged through me, spiking my core and clenching my pussy. I felt the answering wetness in my panties.
"So then," I sucked in a breath, bit my lip, squirmed in my seat, "why don't we find somewhere else to dance?" I got him with that one. His beautiful hazel eyes widened and a slow, sexy smile spread across his face.
The Uber ride home was brief but full of adrenaline-fueled anticipation. I could barely sit still as I texted Dee to let her know where I was going. She texted back congratulating me with an eggplant emoji and an open smiley face, then told me she was off to the same with one of her regular boy toys at their place, texting me the address. She sent me one last text reminding me to send her the "all clear" text when we were done for the night or after an hour of being alone with our chosen partners. It was the code we had between us to make sure we were playing safe. If we didn't get that code, we would send the police to the last known location of our cell phones. For some reason I had a feeling I could send her the all-clear code now. There was something about Mat that I instantly trusted. Maybe it was his calm, cool, and collected demeanor, or maybe it was the fact that I was inexplicably insatiable for him to the point that he could tell.
Mat, though, seemed calm and confident throughout the ride. He sat still and silent beside me at first, making no outward sign that my nearness was affecting him as much as his nearness affected me. Other than the allure of his gorgeous face and lithe body, he smelled so good too, just so delicious that my mouth was watering. It was a combination of some subtle, spiced cologne or aftershave, the leather of his jacket warmed by his body heat, and something else, male and uniquely him.
The only indication that he wasn't as unaffected as he seemed was the fact that he pretty much kept his eyes on me the whole ride, seemingly unable to look away. Every time I braved a glance at his face, he was studying me intently: my eyes, my lips, the creamy flesh of my exposed cleavage. Within five minutes of the fifteen-minute car ride, I felt hyper aware of his every glance and move. The leg he had pressed up against mine in the back of the Uber wasn't trembling or quaking one bit, but every time I felt his thigh flex against mine, I was sure he could feel mine tremble against his. The same could be said about the arm he had thrown along the back of the seat; his leather clad bicep pressed against my shoulders was calm and steady, not a tremble in sight.
