She’d been wearing a dark, backless dress that flared out from her tiny waist and ended just above her knees. Her slim, delicate shoulders had looked creamy pale and inviting. And her hair...wow, her hair had been dark, but not black. Maybe a deep red-brown mahogany. She’d swept one side up and pinned it in a loose roll, while she’d let the other side tumble down her back.
I loved it when women did that, leaving one side all mysterious and hidden away under a bounty of rich curls, while the other half tempted me with an open view of bare flesh. I always wanted to stroll up behind them and bend my head to kiss the exposed shoulder while I tunneled my fingers through the free-flowing part to caress what was hidden beneath. Best of both worlds.
And with this lady wearing a backless dress, my mind was already digging up visuals of how I could just keep kissing my way down to those twin dimples at the top of her ass.
I shuddered from the sudden weight tightening my pants and blindly set the two bottles on the waiting tray beside Pick.
“Thanks, Noel,” the waitress called as I wandered off. I didn’t even acknowledge her as I leaned a little over the bar to squint into the crowd.
Damn. Where had she gone?
“Hey, can we get a screaming orgasm over here?”
Gnashing my teeth, I turned toward three girls motioning me over. They were all scantily dressed and smoking hot, but I was still tempted to keep searching for the lady in the black backless number.
Controlling myself, I shook my head free of little black dresses and returned to my duties. Grinning obligingly at the three, I lowered the timbre of my voice. “Why, yes. Yes, you can. Who wants to scream first?”
They giggled and drew in closer, leaning on the bar to give me a glimpse down all three tops. One wasn’t wearing a bra. Nice.
Braless giggled. “We meant the drink.”
“Oh, oh.” I pressed my hand to my brow, feigning embarrassment. “Silly me. Of course you did. Well, you can have some of those, too.” I winked at her. “Be right back.”
Pick sidled up beside me as I was whipping up the first concoction for them. “Sure you can handle all three of those lovely honeys over there, partner?” he asked, spelling out his double meaning when he wiggled his eyebrows, making the silver stud in one glint under the dim overhead lights.
I snorted. “Trust me. I got this.”
He chuckled but stepped back to help some guy who approached for an order. I returned to the girls and passed out their drinks. They paid in cash, and when they stuffed a couple extra bills into my tip jar, I smiled a little wider. “Thanks.”
“Hey, aren’t you Noel Gamble, the quarterback for ESU?” the tallest of the group finally gained the courage to ask.
“Yep. That’s me.” Always thrilled when someone recognized my face for something good, I propped my elbows onto the bar as I leaned in toward them. “Have you ladies seen me play?”
Two shook their heads while a third said not-so-successfully under her breath, “I’d sure like to see you play.”
The grin I sent her pretty much said, anytime, sweetheart, though honestly, my mind was still on Black Dress. But flirting made me more money, so I kept flirting.
“When do you get off work?” another asked.
I opened my mouth to dish out another impish response that would hopefully drag more tip money from them when I saw someone approach the bar and sit at a stool at the other end. I glanced over and nearly swallowed my tongue when I saw her. Gorgeous dark hair tumbled over one shoulder, and that elusive black dress glimmered slightly in the overhead lights.
“Excuse me,” I murmured and deserted the three co-eds to approach my mystery lady. Nothing was going to keep me from at least securing her digits.
But Pick was beating me to her. I grabbed his arm and jerked him back, unsettling his balance.
“What the fuck?” he said, stumbling into me.
“I changed my mind. You can have those three. I want her instead.”
He snickered and glanced back at the woman who was busy with her head bent, searching for something in her clutch purse that matched the fabric of her dress. When he looked back toward the flirty girls, a slow grin spread across his face.
“Well, hell, Gamble. I think this is the first time you’ve preferred quality over quantity. I’m impressed.”
“Just go take care of the airheads.” I pushed him toward the three who were still lingering by the bar.
He laughed at my obvious fixation with the lone woman, but complied, strolling toward the trio.
I took a deep breath, a little anxious about the first impression I was going to give, and stepped toward her. She didn’t notice my approach, which gave me a moment to plan my strategy.
In the end, I decided to go simple.