Breaking Into the Business Page 4

  “Okay,” I nodded. “He’s good looking.”

  “See,” Pearl smiled. “I will always take care of you, honey.”

  “Now go and talk to him,” Betsy urged her on.

  “But what do I say?”

  “That’s for you to figure out,” Pearl smiled.

  I set my drink on the table and stood up from my stool. I rubbed my upper arm in a futile attempt to calm frayed nerves, but it didn’t do any good. I had this sinking feeling that I was walking into the lion’s den.

  Chapter Five

  The bar had already begun to pick up in the short time since my arrival. With only two drinks down, I still didn’t have that carefree feeling that most of the other patrons apparently had. I crossed over the dance floor as that was the quickest route to the man I was being forced into talking to. Only a few people littered the dance floor as it was still too early in the night, but I felt as if the entire bar were watching me walk.

  As I drew closer to my prey, I saw that he was not actually talking to anyone, but simply standing there at the bar, staring off in the direction of the bathrooms, holding a beer in his right hand. He had that look as if he was waiting on someone else.

  When I approached him, he turned and looked at me. I was taken aback at just how good looking he was up close. His strong jaw and cheekbones were that much more defined by the brown stubble across his face. His eyes were a penetrating blue that gazed back at me as if he were undressing me. I suddenly felt naked and defenseless as he stared at me.

  “Hello,” he said.

  When he smiled, I saw his perfect straight, white teeth. Damn, was there anything wrong with this guy?

  “Hey there,” I said, doing my best to sound flirty. I pulled up beside him at the bar and added, “Can I buy you a drink?”

  “Of course not,” he said. “Because then I would owe you something. But I will buy you a drink.”

  “And I will let you.”

  “What are you having?”

  “A beer will do.” I didn’t normally drink beer when I went out, but I wanted to keep my wits about me if I were going to talk to a guy.

  “A woman who drinks beer?” he grinned. “You are a rare and exquisite one.”

  “Thank you,” I said. I thought I would have to fake a smile, but realized that the expression just seemed to come.

  He leaned over the bar and asked the bartender for two beers. I stepped back a minute and took a chance to size him up. I hadn’t realized how tall he was – at least a few inches over six feet. His arms were even bigger than I thought and his pectoral muscles strained against his shirt. And what a great fit that shirt was, because as it flowed down, it tapered inwards so that I could see his flat stomach.

  The bartender brought the beers back and he handed one to me. With his beer, he lifted an arm as if to toast with me.

  “To beautiful women that approach you in a bar,” he said.

  I returned the toast. “And to the kind gentlemen who spare enough money to buy women a drink.”

  He laughed. “That was clever.”

  “I try to be.”

  “Well, it seems effortless from where I’m standing.” He stepped back, dragged a stool up near the bar and patted the seat for me.

  “Thank you,” I said as I took the seat.

  “My name is Greg,” he said. “May I ask your name?”

  “Lana,” I said.

  He shifted his body down the bar and towards me a little. Body language is an important action that I always paid attention to and Greg excelled at all of my tests. He kept one arm on the bar to hold his beer and the other was perched on the side of his hip. Ever so slightly, he leaned in towards me, but not too close to make the exchange uncomfortable. His eyes never left mine, and while any other time, I would have found this grossly awkward, I couldn’t get enough this time. He could stare at me forever with those sapphire eyes.

  “So what line of work are you in?” he asked me.

  “I’m an editor for a publishing company,” I said. The minute the words left my mouth, I regretted it. What a conversation killer. There was nothing else to say about my profession and I could just imagine him fleeing in boredom-terror.

  “That sounds interesting,” he said, but I knew he was faking it.

  “You’re just being nice,” I told him.

  “No, it really sounds interesting.”

  “So what do you do?” I asked him.

  “I’m an entrepreneur,” Greg said. There was something strange about the way he said that word.

  “That’s kind of vague,” I replied.

  “I have my hands in a lot of stuff,” he said. “But I don’t like talking about my work when I meet someone new.”

  “No problem,” I said.

  So what the hell was she supposed to talk about? Her job was dreadfully dull bar conversation, and he refused to talk about his.

  “So who are you here with?” he asked me.

  “Two friends of mine,” I said. I turned and pointed across the dance floor in their direction. I looked at them for the first time since coming over here, and both of them were staring right back at me.

  When he turned to look, both Pearl and Betsy held their drinks up and screamed. I could have curled into a ball.

  “They seem fun,” he said.

  “They are loads of fun,” I said.

  “That sounded sarcastic,” he noted.

  “Okay, I have to tell you something, because for me it’s like the elephant in the room,” I said. I needed to come clean just for my own conscious. “I haven’t been on a date in forever and I’m really bad at talking to men. My friends saw you and basically forced me to come over here.”

  “So you didn’t want to?” he asked.

  “Not at first,” I replied. “But it has nothing to do with you as a person. It’s just the idea of doing this.” I waved my hand to indicate both of us. “I’ve never done anything like this before.”

  “It’s not that bad,” he said. I noticed that his arm rose a little off of the bar and he slid just an inch closer to me. “It’s like riding a bike.”

  “I wouldn’t say that,” I smiled. “I’m sorry if all of that came out wrong. Now that I’m here talking to you, I feel a lot better.”

  “Do you?” Greg asked suspiciously.

  “No,” I shook my head. “Not really. I’m still mortified. I think it’s the fact that you’re so good looking.”

  “Why would that make you uncomfortable?” he asked. “It sounds to me like you don’t realize how incredibly attractive you are.”

  “You’re just saying that.”

  “No, I’m serious,” he said. “I don’t say this to just anyone, but you really are very beautiful. In fact, I should be the one who is nervous.”

  I chuckled. “You don’t seem like the kind of guy who gets nervous.”

  “Not really,” he said. “But I do know something that might make you less nervous.”

  “What? Five more beers?”

  He laughed. “No. Would you like to dance with me?”

  “I’m not really a dancer,” I said.

  “We can find our own little spot in the corner,” he said. “I promise to guide you through this.”

  I thought about that for a minute. What could it hurt? I mean, he seemed like a nice guy and all and that would surely get the girls off my case. I thought of Jeremy and my date with the author, but this didn’t really count as cheating since I wasn’t attached to either man.

  No, I was a free woman, and I could do whatever I wanted. It was time that I started living in the moment and just do whatever felt good right then. No stressing about how stupid I might look or over think the dilemma of what was best for my children. I would be happy for once and place my needs on the list.

  “Sure,” I said finally.

  He took my hand and led me away from the bar and onto the dance floor. His palm felt warm in mine and I could feel my heartbeat picking up. When we stepped onto the dance floor,
I could see that it had gotten more crowded since I had walked across. Greg led us over into a corner near the DJ booth and away from the onlookers.

  The beat of the song was fast, but instead of dancing like the rest of the clubbers, he pulled me in close for a slow dance. At first, I was confused, because the song playing did not in any manner invite a slow dance, but he didn’t seem to care. Both of his arms gripped the sides of my waist and he began swaying.

  I looked at my own hands as if figuring out where to place them. Finally, I decided on resting them on his firm chest. He saw my hesitation and smiled reassuringly at me.

  “I’ve never moved this fast,” I said suddenly over the music.

  “This isn’t fast,” he said. “We’re not doing anything.”

  “We’re dancing,” I noted.

  “So what?” Greg said. “It’s harmless.”

  “But we’re close,” she said.

  “I could be closer,” he offered.

  I didn’t answer, and he must have taken that for an affirmative response. Both of his hands slid behind the small of my back and joined behind me. With a slight force, he moved my body closer to his.

  “How’s this?” he asked.

  Part of me wanted to scream and run. How had I gotten myself into this? I wanted to look at Pearl and Betsy so that I could motion for their help, but the majority of my body resisted that small part. I stayed exactly where I was because I knew that the greater part of my being felt that this was where I was supposed to be.

  We danced like that for another three songs, never changing our tempo and shifting closer together at various intervals. I could feel my breasts pressing against the flat hardness of his abdomen. A sensation flooded through my body that I had never felt with Frank.

  Just then, we passed under one of the fans and a chunk of my curls flew up and into my face. Before I could do anything about it, he pulled one hand out from behind me and used it to pull the hair back from my face. Instead of removing his hand, he left it there next to my face. Somehow, his gaze became more penetrating, and his eyes looked as if they would bore holes right through my body.

  From what I had seen on TV and movies, most gentlemen ask for permission to kiss a girl before they do it. Greg didn’t even bother. He leaned down and planted his thick red lips against mine, like two forces of flesh colliding in a wet, lustful embrace.

  The force against my mouth was hard, but each of his lips was gentle in the way that they caressed my opening mouth. The embrace of our mouths lasted for an eternity. When he finally pulled back, my mouth hung open for a few seconds longer.

  “That was nice,” he said.

  “Yeah,” I whispered between labored breathing.

  I didn’t have time to say anything else before he kissed me again, and this time the eternity lasted longer. We stayed like that until he stopped, but instead of pulling back away, his head lowered slightly. My head fell back some as he moved his face down onto my neck and there he planted several smooth, wet kisses.

  A spasm shot up my back from that touch. One of his hands traveled from near my waist up to the back of my neck and there he held me like that for the remainder of the song.

  Time became an intangible, indefinable aspect that escaped my mind altogether. The beat of the music faded into nothingness and the light and smoke from around the dance floor coalesced into a haze that only heightened the feeling of this being a dream.

  I felt him pull away and that act snapped me back into the present. He never let go of my hand and instead, led me off of the dance floor and back towards the bar. I found myself in a dream like trance. Only briefly, did I glance back to my original table, glimpsing Pearl and Betsy staring at us with wild, wide eyes.

  “I’ve never danced like that before,” I told Greg as he held a stool out for me to sit on.

  “I wasn’t really concerned with the dancing,” he said. “But it was lovely.”

  “The way you are,” I said, trying to find the words. “It’s like you are so gentle, yet so aggressive at the same time.”

  “It’s the art of being a lover,” Greg said. He smiled down at me.

  “Well, you excel at that,” I said.

  “Do you like the way that I make you feel?” he asked.

  “Um, yes,” I said.

  “Then would you like to get out of here? We can go back to my place.”

  I could have squealed like a little girl who had just been asked to the dance by the hottest boy in school. I didn’t know whether to exclaim my answer as loud as possible and run from the building, or just decline altogether. I just met this man, and not a half hour later, he’s asking me back to his place. What if he were some sort of axe murderer or serial killer?

  I stared back into his blue yes, debating my answer. I had the date with Jeremy coming up and that was a promising prospect. Would tonight ruin that in any way? I couldn’t see how it would ruin it if only for the simple reason that I found another man that I liked more. I didn’t know much about Greg, but if he treated other aspects of his life as he had my neck and lips, then he would certainly be a keeper.

  “Sure,” I said. “But I should probably stop by and tell my friends.”

  “Let’s go,” he took my hand again and led me around the dance floor this time to the opposite side. When we approached the other girls, they didn’t budge. The only part of their bodies that moved was their eyes as they followed Greg to where he stopped behind me.

  “Hey, girls,” I said. “This is Greg.”

  “Well hello, Greg,” Pearl said, extending one of her hands.

  “This is Pearl and Betsy,” I told him.

  “You found yourself a cute one,” Betsy said, extending her hand.

  Greg chuckled. “Don’t you mean that you ladies found a good one for her?”

  Betsy and Pearl both shot me looks that could kill. Pearl mouthed the words, “You told him?”

  “Of course, I told him,” I said. “He thought it was funny.”

  “Our friend here just needed a little shove,” Pearl said. “We were only trying to help push her into the arms of a nice, good looking man like you.”

  “I appreciate the help,” he said.

  “We’re going to get going,” I announced.

  “What?” Betsy asked, clearly shocked. She tried to work out just what that statement meant and what the precise implications were.

  “He’s invited me back to his place,” I explained. “Betsy, would you mind stopping by my house and checking on the children?”

  “Sure,” she said agreed, but never once did she let her smile fade.

  “Let them know that I’m okay, but I am hanging out with another friend,” I said.

  Betsy leaned in closer to me and whispered, “So you’re really going home with him? You’re okay with this?”

  Pearl slapped the other woman’s arm. “She had better be going home with him. If she doesn’t, I am.”

  I laughed and led Greg away from the table. He said goodbye to the girls and followed me outside.

  The cab ride to his place was short. Actually, I’m not really sure how long the cab ride was because we spent the entire time making out in the backseat. I started out wedged in the crook of his arm and then he had spun me around abruptly. I was smaller than he was, and I felt comfortable and closed in with one of his arms behind my hand and the other hand traveling up my midsection to my breasts.

  His left hand reached up and cupped my breasts over the fabric of my shirt. A man hadn’t touched me there in so long. I felt his hand leave my breasts and then move downwards. As he reached my belt, the cab stopped, and we had arrived at his apartment.

  As if we were running for our lives, we bolted up the steps to the second floor where his apartment was. He led the way, holding my right hand, and I struggled to keep up with him, which was a challenge in heels.

  He fumbled with the keys, but finally managed to get the door unlocked. He practically threw me inside, and he then entered, slamming the
door with his foot. When he had pushed me inside, my back hit the wall, and now that he was inside, he pushed up against me.

  Our mouths met, only this time it was more animalistic than it had been on the dance floor. His mouth and tongue searched mine, probing around, caressing the inside of my mouth. I didn’t know if it was my imagination, but there seemed to be a degree of calculation with his tongue’s movements, like a rehearsed dance that he had practiced every day of his life.

  His hands were busy the entire time. My shirt was unbuttoned and open, but I didn’t remember him undoing any buttons. He flipped my shirt back, revealing my bra. His other hand slid around my back and found the clasp that held it closed, and with a flick of his fingers, it was unclasped, exposing my breasts.

  Any other time, I would have been embarrassed, but he made me feel beautiful, like the most wanted woman in the world. His left hand cupped my breast and his thumb and pointer finger put pressure on the center. The entire time, his mouth never left mine.

  He pulled my shirt and bra away from my body and threw them on the floor. He pulled his face back from mine and lowered himself slightly. He slid his hand back and took my breast in his mouth. The sensation was incredible. Frank had never touched me like this before. Our sex was always so plain and vanilla.

  As he fumbled with the buckle of my belt, I realized that I should be doing the same thing to him or we would be unequally clothed soon.

  I reached out and grabbed the buckle of his pants. His was simpler, so I could just pull it right back. The button and zipper of his jeans were just as easy. When I had them completely undone, I reached around his waist and thrust my hands into the back of his pants. I gripped his butt, feeling the tight muscles clenching, firming beneath my fingers. I squeezed playfully and relaxed, allowing the flesh to soften.

  I thrust my hands downwards, and in one fell swoop, I had removed both his pants and his underwear.

  He stopped what he was doing and looked down. He stared at me, then chuckled as he reached down and grabbed my skirt and panties, and slid them down my legs.