Chapter 3: The Bar

The lounge was dim and warm, jazz humming low beneath the quiet murmur of conversation. Sarah sat at the long marble bar with her legs crossed, the short black dress riding high enough that the cool air kept brushing the tops of her thighs. She had been there less than fifteen minutes when she felt the weight of someone’s attention. She didn’t turn right away. She took a slow sip of her martini, let the moment stretch, then glanced down the length of the bar.

He was standing near the far end—tall, athletic, maybe twenty-six, with a sharp jawline and dark messy hair that looked like he’d run his hands through it more than once. When he caught her looking he didn’t look away. He smiled, confident, the kind of smile that said he already knew how the rest of the night was going to go, and walked straight over.

“Mind if I buy you another?” he asked, voice smooth and low enough that she had to lean in a little to catch it over the music.

Sarah felt a rush of heat low in her belly. She uncrossed her legs slowly, deliberately, letting the dress slide a little higher. The cool air of the lounge kissed bare skin. “Only if you tell me your name.”

“Alex,” he said, sliding onto the stool beside her. His eyes drifted down her body, openly admiring the neckline of the dress, the way it clung, the bare stretch of leg. They didn’t rush back up. “And you are...?”

“Sarah.” She leaned in just enough for him to catch the scent of her perfume. “Nice to meet you, Alex.”

They talked easily for the next twenty minutes. He was a graduate student finishing a degree in something technical; she told him she worked in marketing. Neither of them pressed for more details. His hand brushed her knee once, light and testing. The second time it stayed longer. The third time it settled there and didn’t leave. Sarah felt the warmth of his palm through the thin fabric of the dress and didn’t move away. She shifted just enough that his fingers slid a little higher, past the hem, and she watched the way his eyes darkened when he realized she wasn’t wearing anything underneath. The contact sent a slow, liquid heat through her. She let him feel it. She took a slow sip of her martini and held his gaze, already deciding she liked the way he looked at her—like he was already deciding what he wanted to do with her once they were alone.