She sat at the bar, one long leg crossed over the other, sipping on her third dirty martini as she watched raindrops slide down the steam-frosted windows that took up the upper half of each wall, giving patrons such as herself a stellar view of the city skyline. She glanced out at the darkening sky, looking at the lights that were popping up as the sun sank below the horizon. The vermouth slid smoothly down her throat and she sighed, knowing that tonight was just going to be one of those nights. The bar was quiet; only a few regulars graced the sofas and chairs spread in conversation groups around the cozy room. She heard the quiet hum of meaningless chatter, punctured by the occasional laugh, and wished that she wasn't alone. But, like so many other wishes she'd had over her twenty-five years, it went unheeded. She'd been alone, in the truest sense, for a very long time.
Of course there had been a few men here and there; she liked sex as much as the next woman did-passionate, no-holds barred, take-me now sex. The occasional one-night stand every few months was enough intimacy for her, and when it wasn't, batteries worked just as well. Her friends, for the most part, had settled into comfortable long-term relationships. She was the loner, the one without a 'significant other' as everyone called them these days. But for her it was a choice, a conscious decision. She wouldn't let anyone get too close to her. Once-burned, twice-shy, she thought, lifting her glass to her lips and draining it.
She felt the air shift around her seconds before a large hand settled on her bare shoulder. She turned, tensing, ready to face the threat should it be there. It wasn't, she realized, relaxing as he slid onto the bar stool next to her. He signaled the bartender, ordering another martini for her and a beer for him. "You left the party early," he said casually as his long, tanned fingers wrapped around the glass.
"That I did," she said easily, her lithe fingers idly sliding up and down the stem of the martini glass. "Even though I'm still dressed for it," she said with a low, husky laugh, glancing down at herself. She was still in the skintight wine-colored off-the-shoulder dress she'd worn to the dinner party. She uncrossed her legs, the dress sliding high on her thighs as she changed legs, crossing her left over her right. She tapped her silver stiletto against the bar stool, pleased with the slight ping the movement produced.
"You know," he said, "I'm starting to feel a bit like your keeper." He grinned to himself, knowing his comment would cause an eruption of some sort.
She tossed her head, turning to glare at him, fire flaring in her stormy slate blue eyes. "No man will ever be my keeper," she said fiercely.
He hid his smirk. "Someday some man will-but not this one. I'm not dumb enough to attempt it," he remarked. "Or maybe I just know you too well," he added, watching her fingers tighten almost imperceptibly around the stem of her glass, knowing she was all too capable of throwing it's contents in his face.
Instead, she threw her head back and downed the martini in one gulp, then grabbed her clutch, stood, and signaled the bartender. He slid his hand around her forearm, slapped a twenty on the bar, and rose from his stool. They were both silent as she stalked from the bar, shaking his hand from her arm as he trailed after her. Her long legs ate up the ground beneath her as she strode down the sidewalk, headed for her condo.
"Doesn't that hurt your feet?" he asked, keeping up with her easily. She didn't even turn around, but picked up the pace, moving as quickly as she could in her heels. "Hey," he said, taking her arm and spinning her around, "Come on. My car's right there. I'll drive you home before you break an ankle." He saw the indecision in her face, knowing that she was proud enough to walk the mile rather than let him drive her home.
"Fine," she hissed, stalking to his car. He unlocked the doors and opened hers, closing it behind her. He walked around the back and climbed in, sliding the key in the ignition. The car started easily and he pulled away from the curb, heading down the street.
