This story has been slightly modified to not be fan fiction, and the original version was posted elsewhere, also by me. Enjoy.
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Risky
It had finally reached the point in the night where the crowd in the bar was mostly past tipsy. The place was crowded and the music was some loud, unfamiliar top 20s shit with a heavy beat and not much else. Chase was a few drinks in. He had actually lost count but he was feeling pretty good. And not just because of the booze. A pretty little thing was in the seat next to him. They were flirting hard- his hand was on her thigh were he had very slightly pushed up the fabric of her purple paisley skirt. In response, her legs had parted just a little bit, but enough to for Chase to register it as arousing. Her skin was warm and he could just imagine the way it would get even warmer if he slid his fingers just a little higher. She had a hand resting on his, gripping his fingers lightly. Her other hand was occupied by a glass of whiskey and Coke.
They had been talking for several hours, and even played a game of pool earlier in the evening. She had lost, but not by a lot, and had pinched him roughly on his chest when he gloated. Chase had caught her hand and pulled her body close to his. The pool cue in her hands had clattered to the ground, and broke the gaze they were locked in. She laughed and the cue was scooped up quickly.
Her name was Brynn, she said when Chase had first sat down next to her at the bar. He had noticed her smooth shoulder-length hair first, followed by that little skirt, and finally, the smile she flashed him when he sat.
"Hey," she said, taking a sip of her drink.
"Hi." Chase ordered a beer when the bartender came over. She smiled at him, and he was instantly captivated. She had rich hazel eyes and small freckles dusted the tops of her cheeks. Her cheeks were a rosy pink, almost like she was blushing, but Chase figured it was just from her drink. She looked at him closely.
"You smell like old car," she stated, turning her body towards him, her elbow resting on the bar. Chase couldn't help the look of mild surprise from his face and his first thought was that this chick had one hell of a nose. "Like that old valve smell. I used to work on cars with my dad."
"Yeah, I've got an old Impala," he agreed.
"It's black right?" she asked, smiling coyly. "I saw you pull up." She pointed out the window, and Chase turned to follow her gesture, and sure enough, you could see his car, just barely, out of the far corner of the bar's front window. Chase chuckled quietly. "I like old cars. She looks like she's in good shape."
