Too Close For Comfort
Chapter One: Hook Up
My eyes instinctively look to the door as I take a sip from the glass of neat bourbon that had sat before me on the bar for best part of an hour. Spotting the middle-aged man in a dark over coat step into Sharkey's Bar immediately squashes my heighten expectations.
Swallowing the harsh liquid, I set the now near empty glass back on to the dark marble surface before me.
The quiet and dimly lit bar was unfamiliar to me, the City I now called home was still largely unfamiliar to me. I had moved here only months previous and had kept some what intentionally kept a low profile, barely even venturing beyond the familiarity of the large three storey house I had purchased on the outskirts of the city. The ongoing conversion of the vast but rundown property that had been in desperate need of modernisation, which explained the low purchase price I had paid, was a drain on both my time and my currently limited finances.
Tonight, constituted a welcome break from such mundanity.
"Refill," the pretty faced dark-haired girl behind the bar offered with a polite and sincere enough smile.
"Why not?" I offer barely able to hold back the tone of frustrated disappointment in my voice.
She does not react as she takes the nearly spent glass from before me, I am about to protest that I had not finished the drink when she swiftly places a fresh clean glass before me and pours, free hand, a more than generous fresh measure of amber liquid over the single ice cube nestled in the glass.
"Thank you." I offer taking a sip of bourbon that burns satisfactorily in my throat as I swallow.
"Waiting for someone?" The brunette idly offers as she procures a damp cloth and wipes the bar surface to my right-hand side.
"Someone I suspect who isn't arriving" I offer, looking briefly towards her as I tap my finger to the screen of my phone that sits atop the bar next to me.
No new notifications await me, at least not from the one app I hoped to see listed amongst the notifications of new emails, marketing offers from food delivery companies and social media notifications.
Raising the phone the front screen recognises me by facial recognition and unlocks automatically, as it does I tap the app conveniently placed on the front page of the phones display. The app opens after a momentary frustrating pause, opening directly into my 'direct message' inbox. The sole thread of messages sits without an update in the last forty-seven minutes.
I tap the screen to enter into the string of associated messages that have been exchanged over the last two weeks, messages that had built in both length and intensity on planning this evenings proposed rendezvous. The last message being my response to hers at seven minutes past eight, assuring her 'That's fine, see you shortly' in response to her message ambiguously explaining 'Work headaches. Running late but on my way.'
Such was the intended ambiguity of our meet I knew very little about the 'Rose_93' as username is captured in the top right-hand corner of the screen. Her profile picture only revealed her pale blue green eyes and the bridge of her nose. Scrolling up through the string of messages would reveal two images, one a selfie of the dark blonde from which the profile picture had been cropped, and a further photograph uploaded two days ago. A full body image, another selfie, taken in front of a mirror in presumably her bedroom, with her phone in an extended hand as she stands dressed in a tight-fitting black blouse and knee length black pencil skirt that accentuated her slender frame. She was stunning, I could barely believe my good fortune. Given my own need to provide verification by two forms of photo identification that was required to algorithmically match my own uploaded images I held confidence that the images received from her were a ruse.
The premise of the 'Elite Meets' service was the same as any number of available dating apps, seemingly the high bar on monthly subscription did, understandably, not come with an assurance that agreed meetings come casual hook ups did not occur. Although a function did permit feedback in terms of unsolicited messages, inappropriate images and failure to attend agreed meets. Her feedback did not suggest this was true to her nature and I could equally see that she had attended two such meet ups previously.
Tonight, had been arranged as little more than a casual hook up, the intent was clear 'Rose_93' being one of only three available females who had met the criteria I had specified which had been defined by a tick box list of 'preferences' alone. The messages exchanged between the two of us since we had connected had left no ambiguity of what the night was to hold for both myself and the mysterious dark blonde. Such was the nature we had deliberately not exchanged the normal and mundane slew of messages regarding details of our daily lives, especially given her preference come request to experience 'Stranger Sex.' Stranger sex all be it by the security offered to both of us by clear definition of how the evening would be expected to proceed and the acceptable limits to operate within.
Such level of detail had done little to dampen my desire, the prospect of the night fired my imagination. Perhaps on reflection as the actual time to act on words exchanged the very detail of that concept of fulfilling a fantasy has scared her, to the point that she has decided not to go through with the proposed meet.
"Well, it's her loss" the wavy-haired bar girl offered with a mischievous little grin as she turned and walked towards a couple sat on the same high-backed stools as I did at the far end of the stretch of bar she served.
My eyes cannot help but follow her, as she moves away her hips sashay with a gentle natural swagger, movement that draws my eyes to her ass that sits beneath a short faded dark grey denim skirt the frayed hem of which met fishnet hosiery that clad her slender legs. An unflattering loose fitting black vest adorns her upper body.
I cannot help but let a grin pass my lips, even if I do misinterpret what is likely to only be a well-meaning passing comment.
Taking a further sip of my drink the main door to the bar slips open more. Looking up on instinct just as I have every time someone has entered for the past hour my eyes meet hers immediately, she offers an apologetic smile as she steps confidently forward. My eyes feast on her, the photographs exchanged do her justice, possibly a disservice, her natural beauty, behind a lightly made-up face, is quite simply stunning.
I am instantly captivated as the high heels of her black ankle strap shoes strike the wooden floor of the bar as she walks towards me. With her dark blonde hair tied back, a long grey over coat belted at the waist covers the major of her body but the tailored fit makes enough of a suggestion as to the slender frame it clothes. An off-white blouse buttoned high to her neck the only other visible clothing spare for the dark denier nylons that wrap her lower legs.
