Riley Frost walked through the front door at Fellow’s Bar and Grill and, Ben, the bartender, waved. He nodded and sat down on a barstool at the end. The room wasn’t overly crowed and there were enough women in the place that he thought he’d come out on top. He hoped to find a nice curvy woman to curl up with for the night. The noise and laughter helped bring his tension down a notch.
Ben walked to his end and set a glass of Loch Lomand single-malt-whiskey in front of him. It was Riley’s favorite and the bar kept it stocked for him.
“My headache thanks you, Ben.” He accepted the glass.
“Steven should be back from a break shortly, Mr. Frost. Care for a game of chess?” the bartender asked. “It would give me a chance to win back some of my losses from last month.”
“Perhaps. I’m a little on the prowl tonight. Is it too late to get a pulled pork sandwich or something?”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
Riley nodded, picked up his glass and a newspaper off the end of the bar, and walked over to an empty table.
Ben came out from behind the bar. “We can do the sandwich. Chef wants to know if you want coleslaw, chips, or fries?”
“Chips are fine. There’s no need to heat up the fryer.”
“Good.” Ben smiled and went back to the kitchen.
Riley read through the headlines on the front page of the paper and then heard the front door open. A woman about five-foot-ten walked in and went straight to the bar. He did a double take and found it hard to take his eyes off of her.
She wore an emerald green, mini-tank dress that had lace in all the right places. It hugged her hips tightly and when she turned to the bar, he saw it had no back. The sides were cut low under her arms and the curve of her breasts showed just enough. Her long, brown hair would slide side to side when she moved and he thought he saw a scar on the middle of her back. Her legs alone caused Riley’s cock to stir and he thought he may have found his catch for the night.
An older man with dark-graying hair walked up to her. Riley almost started to crack up laughing. The guy wore his hair in a fluffy 80s style cut and had a walrus mustache. The woman smiled and spoke with him. The man put his hand on her arm and she peeled it off and shook her head.
“Woo…turn down, dude. Things are looking very good,” Riley said to himself, and took a sip of his whiskey.
Ben brought his sandwich over and set the plate down on the table. Riley stopped him from leaving.
“The woman at the bar, dead center, with the green dress and brown hair, what can you tell me?”
The bartender looked over his shoulder and nodded. “She is gorgeous, but I think she may be a professional.”
“Really?” Riley felt a bit surprised. She looked too classy to be a hooker.
“I don’t know it for a fact, but she comes in here every other week or so and never leaves alone.”
“Good, her drink’s on me, Ben.” He’d never seen her before and he spent a lot of time at Fellow’s.
“I’ll see to it. She’s a single-malt woman. May I give her some of the Lomand?”
“Very good idea.” Riley nodded and started to eat his food.
He saw Ben walk behind the bar and prepare the drink. The woman still spoke to the 80s throw back. The bartender put the drink in front of her and pointed toward Riley. She looked over her shoulder just as he slid a potato chip into his mouth. Her eyebrow arched and she turned back to Ben and pushed the glass back at him. They exchanged a few words and the woman picked up the drink and walked toward Riley.
She set the glass down and leaned over with her hand on the table. Riley had a perfect view of the tops of her breasts and he almost lost his breath.
“I don’t accept drinks from strangers, but thank you.” She straightened up.
“Why don’t you have a seat? I’m Riley Frost, now we’re not strangers anymore.”
She stared at him for a moment with caramel colored eyes and then turned back to the bar. He admired her rear and his cock became hard as a rock, it wanted her so much. She is mine, he thought.
As she slid onto a stool, she motioned for Ben to bring another drink.
The other man sat next to her and continued to make his moves. He tried to put his hand on her thigh and she moved it.
Riley stood, finished his drink, and pulled his wallet out of his back pocket. He took a bill out and picked up the full glass of whiskey she’d left on his table. On her left side, he moved between her and Mr. Walrus Mustache, to crowd the guy away from her. Riley put the cold glass against her bare back.
She sat up, leaned into his hand, and looked at him over her shoulder. Riley didn’t look back, but flagged Ben. He handed the bartender a one-hundred dollar bill and then leaned toward the woman.
He moved his lips to a millimeter from hers and whispered, “The Loch Lomand is a thousand times better than that swill you’ve got. Have a lovely evening.” He brushed his lips over hers and let his hand slide over her breast as he set the drink in front of her. Her nipple felt hard as a bullet. He smiled and started toward the door.
Oh yeah, I give her less than five minutes. She’s mine, he thought. He went out the door, turned left and stood at the corner of the building.