"Bathroom run first. I'll grab the drinks on the way back." He places his stick on the green felt surface. "Save the table?"
"I'll be right here when you get back."
Baz scrutinizes me as I lean against the edge, his big green sparklers holding equal amounts of hope and doubt.
"Why do I get the feeling you're a slippery one?"
I press my bold red lips together, trying not to look guilty under the big, bright spotlight he's putting me under.
"I'm not slippery. I'm just me."
He runs his fingers through his long, wavy hair. "I don't know why I find that response such a turn-on, but I do."
"Maybe you're interpreting slippery in a few different ways."
"Not maybe, definitely." He chuckles, paralyzing me with his killer smile. I think I may be fucked.
Fucked, fucked, fucked, fucked, fuckity, fuck, fucked.
I watch as he walks away, checking out his ass the whole damn time, all firm and tight in his snug, stone-washed jeans.
Maybe playing with my prey wasn't such a good idea. I was expecting Benjamin Sabatino to be a douchebag. Like the usual sacks of shit I deal with, but I'm coming to find out he's not.
"Can I get next?" Someone encroaches on my personal space. I glance over my shoulder to find the dickhead from earlier, and it smells like he was flushed down a toilet bowl full of whiskey.
"Next game's taken. Piss off." I gave him one pass, he won't get another.
"Well, maybe I can get a giggle out of you the same way scruffy did." He places his hands uninvitingly on my hips, and I grip the pool stick tightly. So tightly the wood creaks audibly.
"Can I ask you a question?" I peer at him calmly through the corner of my eye.
"Anything, baby."
"What grade did you get in comprehension?"
"What?" The confusion is clear in his response. "I don't think comprehension was a subject."
"It was where I'm from." I take a split second look around the room then even faster flick the pool stick up between his legs. I hear an oomph as the air is sucked out of his lungs right before I swipe his feet out from under him. He hit the ground hard, and I put my hand over my mouth like an innocent bystander. The table is far enough removed from the bar and most of the patrons. I bend over like I'm going to help him up, but instead take the tip of the cue stick and jam it into his balls. "Let me school you. I said I wasn't fucking interested. Capisce? Now, go slither back into whatever hole you came from unless you're looking for a pierced testicle."
"Fuck! You're a crazy bitch."
I smile sweetly. "So I've been told." I add some more pressure to his nut, and the prick turns a brilliant shade of red.
"Is everything okay here?" Baz approaches us, and I immediately straighten up. I bat my big doe eyes as guilelessly as possible before I assure him, "Everything's fine. I think someone just had too much to drink." The guy is already crawling away by the time I glance back down in his direction. If Baz wasn't here, I'd kick him in the ass for good measure.
But I have to remain sweet and innocent and unsuspecting.
I hope it's working, because the way Baz is looking at me right now is questionable.
"I'm definitely ready for that drink now." I grab for the short glass with light amber liquid and a cherry floating on top, hopefully distracting him from what just happened, but he pulls it away before my fingertips even get close.
"Ah, about drink number two. I know number one had no expectations, but I think this one should come with a price." He hit me with a roguish smile.
"What kind of price?" I place my hand on my hip and cock my head.
"The consideration of sleeping with me."
Why is it when other men try to be cute I see them as total assholes, but when Baz does it I completely succumb?
I eye him flirtatiously.
"Everything you want has a price, I guess." I give in willingly. I don't even need another drink to consider sleeping with him. I'd do it for gratis. I haven't stopped imagining what those big hands and irresistible mouth are capable of.
"It is the sad, but in my case favorable, truth." He doesn't sound disappointed by that fact one bit as he hands over my drink. I take a long, hard pull of the sweet libation through the straw, knowing every second that passes in Benjamin fucking Sabatino's presence is detrimental to my mission. But at the moment, I just don't give a damn.
Two more games of pool and several strong drinks later, I have mentally undressed Baz a dozen times, and I think he knows it. We have become way too comfortable, way too fast. Touching, brushing, flirting to the point ad nauseam. The sexual tension we have managed to conjure could propel a wind turbine.