[ad_1]

It’s a cool night in Downtown San Antonio, Texas. I stand outside a speakeasy bar in the King William Historic District. The time is 8:30 p.m. I’m on time. I’m all the time on time.
I walk inside. The jazzy sounds of a saxophone play softly in the background. I’m immediately welcomed with a smile and a head nod from the bartender. I nod back; then, I make my way over to the first empty stool at the counter.

“First time in San Antonio?” The bartender asks.

I raise my brow, “How’d you figure that?”

“Oh, we Texans can always spot an out-of-towner.” The bartender answers, while placing a red-brown wooden coaster in front of me. “What can I get ya, partner?”

The bartender moves to the side a bit, giving me a good view of the variety of liquor filled bottles that decorated the entire wall behind him. My eyes instantly settle on a clear bottle with golden-brown liquid inside, with a label that read, “Macallan.”

I point to that bottle, “I’ll take that single-malt you have there. Neat.”

“Excellent choice, sir.”

While the bartender does his thing, I turn away and scan the room. The interior design of the entire bar was sophisticated and upscale. The seating area was organized with two rustic-red leather couches and matching coffee tables. Imported portraits hung from walnut-colored wooden walls.
The room was filled with men dressed in tailored suits, and each woman wore a differently styled cocktail dress. Everyone conversed with a smile on their face and a drink in their hand. The entire place smelled like money and expensive liquor.
I blend in well with my all-black Prada suit, my attire matching the high-class clientele in this room.
I continue to scan the room until my eyes finally discover her.
She stood alone in the corner of the bar—long, jet-black curls cascading over her flawless, tanned, caramel skin.
Our eyes connect for no more than two seconds. I’m the first to turn my head away.
It doesn’t take long for her to react; I can practically sense her as she walks over to me.
I focus my eyes on the neatly made scotch, which was casually placed in front of me by the bartender. “You want to open a tab, sir?”
I pull out an all-black, gold-trim card from my wallet, place it on the counter, and then slide it toward the bartender. I shake my head, “No need. I’m leaving after I finish this drink.”

She finds an empty stool at the bar, the closest one at my side. My eyes ignore her, but I can feel her leaning into me.

“Was that look for me?” Her words were soft, deliberately sensual, and hinted at a Nigerian accent.

“Hm…” I answered, bringing the glass of scotch to my lips. I tilt my head back as I pour that smooth liquid heat down my throat. I place the empty glass on top of that red-brown wooden coaster. “That look was for the beautiful woman wearing a skin-tight satin red dress.”

Her breasts slightly presses against my bicep as she leans in further. Her words become more like whispers. “Oh, I see.”

I turn to her. Tilting my head down, my eyes scanning the details of her body. Her hard nipples protrude through the thin red fabric of her dress, a tantalizing sight that provokes a stimulating sensation inside me. Her hips shifts toward my direction as I turn to her. I can feel my dick pressing against the crotch of my pants. “Of course that look was for you. No one else here has my attention.”

A smile curls at the corner of her mouth. “Hmm, well then. What do we do now?”

I lean toward her, my cheek brushing against hers while my lips move toward her ear. I absorb the heat from her skin as my hand creeps across her thigh. I answer her question, my voice is bold and direct. “We’re going to do exactly what you paid me to do. Tonight, your body belongs to me.”

Continue [part 2](

NSFW: yes

[ad_2]