Dedicated to Mr. R. I hope it's to your liking.
"Woodford Reserve, neat, with a water back."
I shifted on the leather barstool trying to find room to cross my long legs as the bartender turned to pour my drink. He was cute. His sleeves were rolled up exposing his forearms. They looked strong. The images of his tattoo sleeve climbing under the crisp white linen of his shirt sleeves called me to imagine what it looked like when he removed his shirt. My eyes traveled up his torso but were caught short when they connected with his as he leaned over to slide my drink across the bartop. His tongue darted out to moisten his lower lip as he smiled and winked at me before heading off to serve the other end of the bar.
The bourbon warmed my throat and lingered on my lips. I swirled my drink losing myself in the golden toffee color, my mind circling the glass, unwinding from the work day. I became aware of a faint scent of cologne. Pleasant. While I was lost in my thoughts a gentleman had taken up residence in the seat next to me. He was dressed well. No doubt professional, probably here to decompress from work as well. He slid out of his jacket and folded it over the back of his stool. His scent hit me. Woody and spiced with an undertone of something I couldn't quite place.
He ordered a scotch on the rocks and relaxed back into his seat. He smiled when we caught eyes. I returned to looking at my drink but was watching him in my periphery. He looked me over, lingering on my legs before the bartender came back with his drink. He took a sip and stared into his glass.
"What's your poison?"
He was staring right at me and it took me a moment to get his meaning.
"Oh, just ah bourbon."