***Many thanks to NickJBella for editing this story for me!***
*****
"Hi. I'm Michael."
I slowly look to my right with just my eyes. Above the rim of my drinking glass that is pressed against my lips, I see the strikingly handsome familiar face of a stranger standing in front of me. I nearly spit my drink out with surprise. It's...it's him! I slowly place my glass down on the bar, clear my throat, and try to regain myself. He keeps a small distance between us but still towers over me. He has to be at least 6 foot 2 inches, causing me to look up at him. His blond hair has been neatly restyled and he smells of alluring cologne.
"Hi," I stutter. "You were in the show, weren't you?"
"Yes, I was," he says with a confident smirk. "I saw you checking me out while we were making our way through the crowd doing one-on-one dances. I noticed you a few times, actually. Thought I'd come over and officially introduce myself."
"Do you use that line on all the ladies you try to pick up after one of your performances?" I ask with a raised eyebrow.
He is the one out of all nine dancers in the show tonight that I was drawn to. Watching him remove his clothing on stage was mesmerizing. He first caught my eye during the meet and greet before the show where a few of us lucky ladies were able to score tickets for photo opportunities with a select number of the dancers tonight. It sure pays to know just the right people and I'll be sure to thank them very much for giving me those special tickets. I immediately regret making that smart ass comment and I shake my head in disagreement with myself. I didn't mean to make myself come off as a complete bitch but thankfully his face never falters. His smile remains strong and he even lets out a quiet giggle.
"No, it's not. I'm usually not the one making the first move as I'm a shy guy; not to sound conceited, but I am the one having to fight off women I'm not interested in. May I join you?"
"Yes, I'd like that. I'm sorry for the crude remark," I apologize. I do have to agree with him, though. I saw the way women, and a few men pawed at him and the way they seductively stuffed money into his underwear hoping he would take notice; the way they copped a feel of his package in the process. I know; I did this myself to the other dancers who made their way to my section. Sadly, he wasn't one of them.
"It's ok, I didn't take it personally." He slides his barstool a little closer to mine and takes a seat as I introduce myself. He is finally close enough for me to see the golden brown color of his eyes, slightly darker than the color of amber and just as transparent. His hair is still slightly wet from freshening up after the show. All the while, I am asking myself why he even has the slightest interest in approaching me. Obviously, he's extremely fit otherwise he wouldn't make it as a male performer. His body glistened on stage and every detail was on display. His shaggy blond hair hanging down onto his forehead as he worked up a sweat from the exuberant dancing he had trained so hard to perfect. I'm not all dolled up like so many of the other ladies who attended tonight's show. To be honest, I had just gotten off work about an hour before it started and had no time at all to make myself anywhere near as presentable as I had liked. I didn't even get the chance to throw on something remotely slutty. I'm a chubby gal being 5 foot 3 and a size 14 but I still try to make myself somewhat approachable when I'm out. I'm nowhere near what you'd expect a man like this to be chasing after. I'm not a gym rat. I don't have fake eyebrows, oversized implants, and a waistline that looks like I had ribs removed to perfect. I'm not wearing designer clothes and clutching a Gucci bag with well-manicured and overpriced acrylic nails. I'm just a plain Jane.
"I really enjoyed the show. I have never had the chance to attend anything like this before."
"Is your husband a little upset that you're here?" he asks.
I hold up my left hand to show him the tan line where, until recently, my wedding ring had been for many years.
His eyes gleam, "boyfriend?"
The corner of his mouth forms a smirk as I shake my head no.
"I'm a recent divorcee. My best friend decided to treat me to a girl's night out but she's decided to head back to our room. She has company with her so I'm here sipping a diet Pepsi and probably looking pretty desperate while she's getting laid."
"I don't think you look desperate. I think you're beautiful," he coos at me. I feel my face flush and I shyly look down at my hands. In an instant, I feel his finger under my chin slowly tilting my face back up so he can look at me. He passes his thumb along the very bottom edge of my lip ever so lightly, the feeling of his thumb sends a shiver through me; such a subtle touch with a huge impact.
"I'm sorry. It's been a long time since I've been in a situation like this. I was with my ex-husband for eighteen years, married for fourteen of those, so I apologize for being a little coy and timid."
"I think it's cute," he smiles. His looks are borderline boyish and he doesn't appear to be a day over 25. I feel a little awkward knowing that I must have at least a good 10 years on him. What the hell am I doing flirting with someone his age??
We sit at the bar having small talk for about an hour. Am I secretly hoping he'll ask me back to his room? Yes, I am. But I have no idea what I would do if I ever got there. I am completely clueless as to how this whole thing works. I got into a relationship with my ex right after high school. I am new to meeting attractive people. It has been way too long since I have had any kind of enjoyment for myself. I can't keep my eyes off from him. He was extremely breathtaking on stage wearing nothing more than a g-string but my entire body comes alive while we are talking face to face. His deep voice and the way his knee lightly bumps into mine every now and then. I can almost guarantee he's noticed the many times I have squeezed my thighs together and squirmed on my barstool. I can't help but watch his muscular body move and flex under his tight, white t-shirt. My underwear is wet and I can only hope it doesn't show through my pants. How humiliating that would be.