The first thing I felt was a gentle breeze drifting in through the window. Still half asleep, I knew I was naked under the sheet and so was the girl sleeping next to me, one arm across her body resting on my chest. I cracked an eye against the bright sunlight streaming into the bedroom and glanced over at the clock. It was already past noon. I sighed, closing my eyes and she stirred against me, her hand moving down along my stomach. Memories of the previous night came back, almost like trying to remember a dream, but with the girl beside me I knew it was all real.
At ten o'clock last night I was attending a fundraiser for the local arts community in the upstairs banquet room of a trendy club about a block away from my condo. Being the middle of summer it was a fairly casual affair. As usual, I was the sharpest dressed man there, wearing a gray checked Italian linen suit, white shirt with black tie, and a pair of black Bexley shoes. I checked myself in the bathroom mirror and liked what I saw: My hair is fairly long, almost touching my shoulders, blue eyes, six foot two and just under two hundred pounds, in top shape from three to five times a week at the gym. My lifestyle flows naturally from my profession, I'm a haberdasher, so not only do I need to look the part, I need to live it.
Back in the party I made a circuit through the small crowd but it didn't seem like there were any single ladies. One of my clients had invited me to the fundraiser, he's a lawyer, his wife is involved with the art group, but the art was kind of hideous in my opinion. Big, wall sized canvases with smears of bright, primary colors crossed by darker scribbles and lines, it looked like kindergarten stuff on a grand scale. Maybe that was the point and I was happy to donate to the cause but I wouldn't be buying anything. The party was fine, however, I was drinking champagne, the hors d'oeuvres were top notch and I was having a good enough time that when everything shut down I thanked my hosts and stopped downstairs for another drink.
Now the club part was going all out, thumping music, strobe lights and colored lights flashing, a packed dance floor full of jumping and grinding partiers. It's totally not my kind of scene, but there were plenty of young ladies dressed in what I like to call modern slut gear and I was enjoying the scenery just fine. I went to the bar and ordered a Scotch, dropping a twenty and waited, turning to take in the sights. Before the bartender returned the crowd seemed to part as I looked onto the dance floor and a tall redheaded beauty appeared.
She wore a tight purple dress that stopped halfway to her knees and black shoes with heels, only a few inches shorter than me. Our eyes caught as she walked right towards the empty space at the bar next to me. I drank in the beautiful dark red hair, the color of fine wine, flowing past her shoulders and down her back, deep blue eyes, a small rounded nose and thick red lips. I put her at five foot nine, no more than a hundred fifteen pounds, small boobs with a bit of cleavage courtesy of push-up bra. Her bare arms were tanned and freckled, delicately toned so I knew she worked that body in a gym. She smiled and I saw two perfect rows of gleaming white teeth.
"Thirsty?" I flashed her a grin and took half a step to the side so she could join me at the bar.
"Sure am," she shook her mane of hair and looked me up and down. "What are you, the owner?" she asked, batting those blue eyes at me. As far as I could tell in the darkness of the club she didn't have a lot of makeup on, just enough to accent the eyes, a natural beauty.
"Nah, I'm his spoiled nephew," She laughed, squeezing my arm. I nodded to the bartender who had returned with my Scotch and she ordered a Martini. "Interesting choice."
"I'm not the fruity drink type of girl," she offered me her hand, "Melanie."
"Thomas," I held her hand without squeezing, waiting until it was almost awkward and said, "So, Melanie, did you know you're having the most fun of any girl here tonight?"
"Am I? Hmmm," she made no move to pull her hand from mine, a very good sign, and I finally released her as the bartender returned with her drink. I threw another twenty down and told the bartender to keep it.
"Maybe you just don't know it yet," I raised my glass and we toasted. She took a healthy sip of Martini and I of Scotch. The club seemed to fade into the background behind us, we stood side by side at the bar, so close are arms were rubbing. We got to know each other, less with words and more with body language. I flipped her hair playfully, asked what color she was naturally, joked that I didn't believe her when she said that was her natural color. The connection between us was palpable, even the people around us could see something was going to happen. I thought she was a perfect specimen, maybe it was all the colors working on me, the red hair, the blue eyes, that purple dress, her tan freckly skin. Whatever it was, she was as intoxicating as the Scotch.
By the time our drinks were almost done we were on the same wavelength, laughing together, touching each other in small ways. "Listen Melanie, this is such a wonderful opportunity we've been given here. Let's not ruin things."
"What do you mean?" she cocked her head, looping her arm through mine as if to prevent me from leaving.
I looked deep into her eyes, allowing the growing lust I felt for her to show. "I'm going to take you on to the dance floor now and we are going to dance like it's the first time."
"It is the first time, silly," she mock-slapped at my chest, her hand lingering there.
