Cal was one-third of the way to drunk and three-quarters of the way to horny. The neon lights behind the bar reflected in the mirror, casting a green, red and yellow blend of blinking light onto his face.
Smasher's, it flashed, showing a neon silhouette of a beer can, then it would blink to a second message, Get Smashed, and would show the silhouette of the beer can now crushed flat.
Cal thought it was a pretty creative name, and admired Tommy "Smasher" Johnson for coming up with the catchy turn of phrase. "Smasher" was a former football player, having warmed the benches of several NFL teams from Miami to New Orleans to Chicago, before finishing his career in Detroit, whose suburbs he settled down in.
Smasher was a huge man, sans neck, who had picked up his nickname and reputation as a powerful player who didn't have much staying power. He would be there for the big plays, but then he would have to sit out for several. Injury prone and easily winded, Smasher had saved his earnings from the NFL to open this popular suburban night spot.
Cal, a jaded sports writer, had ridden his own series of ups and downs before being relegated to doing a series of "Where are they now" stories for one of the national sports magazines. He had decided to do a piece on Smasher when he found out the athlete owned a bar. He was sick of the pro football players and baseball players that worked for insurance agencies or had their own internet businesses selling their feeble autographs. Smasher had lit onto his off-field passtime: Drinking and cooking rich barbecue food.
Cal finished his fourth "Smasher's Dasher," an alcoholic concoction that supposedly included protein and ginseng. It was supposed to be the healthiest alcoholic form of aphrodisiac in the U.S. Cal didn't know...it didn't seem to be doing anything for him, aside from get him "Smashed." He considered ordering a drink with gingko biloba to help clear his head.
"Hey handsome," a voice whispered in his ear.
Startled, Cal spun to his left, but nobody was there...at least not close enough to be whispering in his ear. There were hundreds of "Smasher's Best Friends" present, but he was more or less alone at the bar.
"I'm over here," the husky voice intoned, in his right ear this time.
He spun right, hoping he didn't look like a complete boob. Nope...nobody. Although his rapid movements did attract the attention of a young man with his wife. Yep, he looked like a boob.
"I'm nearby, sweety," the estranged voice said. "Come find me...I'll make it worth your while...I have a drink waiting for you." Cal was up and drifting around the smoke-filled tavern before he realized he was even moving. He looked at the eyes of all the women who were alone. There were a lot of them.
The sexy blonde in the tight red dress. Her ice-blue eyes looked him over, and she licked her lips. Her hand moved toward her breast, drawing his attention that way. He wondered if it was her.
"No, honey...I'm over this way."
Cal immediately broke eye contact with the bewitching blonde and continued his search. Several women caught his eye, all of them looked inviting to him, even the one who looked like a post-apocalyptic cyberpunk dyke seemed interested in him. One, sad-looking woman seemed to almost speak to him, but then the persistent voice drew him elsewhere. He didn't notice that the sad-looking woman vanished as soon as his attention was drawn away.
Finally, he found the owner of the enchanting voice that had been teasing him, and he realized it was worth the wait.
The raven-haired beauty had almost porcelain-white skin, and wore a velvety crimson dress...whose color seemed to shimmer between black and a bright red. The dress was cut in a low V-neck, exposing her ample milky-white breasts and considerable cleavage. With even the most subtle movement, the dress's colors would shift, exposing that she wore no bra, as the shiny fabric was pulled taut across her large, protruding nipples.
She had deep brown eyes that bored a hole through Cal's soul. Her dark hair was kept in sweeping curls, which seemed to enshroud her perfectly shaped face, enticing him to look at her eyes, and her beautiful pouty lips. She wore gold hoop earrings with crystal studs, and wore several gold and silver bangles around her wrist. The dress was slit on the side almost up to her rib cage. Her waist was adorned with a shiny black sash, which was held together by an enticing ruby and gold brooch.
"You've found me," she purred.
"Now that I've found you..." he stammered, "...what do I do with you?"
"You take me across the street to your motel room and show me a good time," she cooed at him.
