I fidgeted with my short dress, clearing my throat uneasily as I sat at the bar. Men were staring at me, and honestly I didn't blame them. The dress my mysterious date had sent me was ridiculously short and the sharp, lethal looking stilettos made me look sharp and sexy. I didn't look like a cheap hooker, or even a more expensive hooker, I looked like a lethal femme fatale and even though I didn't dress like this, ever, I knew that I looked incredible.
The music in the club was hot and heavy, and the dance floor was at my back as I sat at the bar, in the corner stool. I stirred my drink and made a slight face, glancing up to look around and peering at the door. People had been coming and going, and I'd already been here for thirty minutes...
"You've barely even touched that drink, ma'am." The man sitting next to me chuckled. I looked over, a little surprised. He was tall, clearly a businessman, with dark hair and equally dark eyes. I smiled, a little nervously, and glanced down at my drink. Do I make the guess take the chance that this was my unknown date? That this was the man I'd taken that incredible leap to meet in this bar? I'd been talking to him for months, told him I'd be drinking a martini, and then he'd sent me this dress and heels, told me to sit in this exact seat and order my dirty martini...
"I'm waiting for someone." I smiled, a little braver.
"Well he's a lucky man, whoever he is; if it's a man." The guy winked, slurring his words a little. I sighed and rolled my eyes, looking away. This was obviously not the guy. I tapped my toe against the metal bar at my feet and stirred my drink, taking a small sip. If I had hoped he would have left me alone, I should have known better. Instead he slid over a stool until his leg pressed against mine.
"I'd love to be that someone." He flashed me what I'm sure he thought was a winning smile but the stench of vodka on his breath made me want to gag. I crinkled my nose and the man's expression changed.
"What? I'm not good enough for you, honey?" He slurred angrily. "'S this special date paying a lot of money for you or something?"
I gasped and stiffened my spine, the bartender came over and put his palms down on the smooth wooden counter. I clenched my jaw, grabbed my clutch and stood from the bar. Fuck this, I wasn't going to sit here and take this from some drunken sod. I had barely taken a step when the drunk grabbed my arm and pulled me back. In the dangerously high heels I wobbled and nearly broke my ankle, spilling his drink down the front of his nice suit.
"You sloppy bitch!" He yelled and raised his hand. Eyes wide, frozen on the floor, I felt another hand grab my arm and jerk me back a few inches, catching the drunk's wrist and pulling it back. The drunk business man yelled in pain and fell to his knees, eye level with me now. I looked up and saw a man with blonde hair, bright blue eyes, and a sleek black suit, open in the front and with a pale pink button up shirt with the first two buttons undone.
"Do you think it's wise to act like this?" The stranger said in a very calm, but chilling, voice. He helped me stand, never moving but his arm as I quickly gained my feet. He never removed his warm hand from my arm, but as the three of us stood there, in some strange triangle of pain, he twisted the man's wrist until he screamed.
I was amazed no one in the bar spoke; instead, they looked away uneasily. I had never been here before, but it was clear that the stranger had. By the way everyone was looking somewhere else; I would have even gone so far to say that he owned the damn place. I swallowed nervously as I watched him, his straight spine, the cold look on his face as he clearly caused agony to the drunk.
"You shouldn't come back here." He said calmly, as if commenting on the weather. The man nodded, tears of pain streaming from his eyes. As the stranger released his arm, the man stumbled forward and fled the bar.
"D-Damon?" I whispered in question, my heart racing.
He turned those piercing eyes at me and my racing heart nearly skidded to a halt. While his voice and face may have been cold, those eyes were blazing with heat. I closed my gaping mouth, the hand on my forearm suddenly seeming much too warm.
"I'm pleased to see the dress fits." His voice changed dramatically from the cold, commanding tone he had used with the drunk. Now, it writhed with a sensual heat that nearly put me back on the floor. I swallowed and blushed lightly.
"You were worried?" I purred lightly, clearing my throat and shaking my head. Attempting to sound seductive had failed miserably. Damon, however, smiled kindly and led me to a private table near the back. There were curtains that could be pulled closed and the music pumping from the dance floor was far less obtrusive in this little cove. He guided me to my seat in the large booth and I knew better than to argue as I sat down he gave a satisfied nod.
Damon slid gracefully into the side opposite me, his piercing eyes digging into mine as he slid his gaze up and down my body. He might have well just ripped off this dress of his then and there for all the subtlety his gaze provided. I decided to fight fire with fire and fully take in the enigma that was Damon. His suit was crisp, clearly expensive and most likely Armani, the subtly pink shirt underneath surprised me with color choice, but taking it all in I realized nothing else would have worked nearly as well. He didn't wear a tie, but instead the shirt casually left a few buttons undone at the neck. I couldn't see his shoes and without peering under the table and looking like an idiot, I took the educated guess that they were expensive as well. His hair was the only unruly part about him - while the suit and shirt were crisp, his hair seemed almost wild. It wasn't short, but long enough that the tips came down to his jaw like jagged teeth. And his jaw...it was strong but well defined, aristocratic bone structure. His fingers were long and graceful looking and as he stared at me, one hand drummed lightly on the tabletop.
"To answer your question..." His voice slid over me like silk, "I was worried, yes."
I opened my mouth with a defiant expression, almost insulted he hadn't believed me when I told him what I looked like, my weight and height online, but refused to send him pictures. But still! I'd had the audacity to wear this ridiculously sinful dress, which seemed to have been fitted to the exact dimensions I'd given him, and had the courage to meet him here!
He held up his hand, silencing me with a cold look.
"Before you get offended, I'll tell you why. I've spoken to many women on that chat site, each one professing this beautiful figure and some even sending pictures I clearly knew were from modeling websites. Relationships can blossom online, and usually go no further but when someone expresses...interest...into my world...I take it seriously. As you've noticed, I have the money to buy anything I want and I'm not shy about it." Damon's voice was calm and barely held any inflection other than cynicism. He leaned back, lifting finger to gesture to someone outside the curtains, draping his other arm across the back of the curved booth.
"That dress you're wearing, it was made especially for you. As strange as my measurement requests might have been, you gave them to me. Most don't. When I requested you wear it, here, I didn't expect to even find anyone here. You're the first one to ever come full circle. Think of the process as a filter." Damon smirked and looked over to the woman standing with an attentive expression.
"She'll have another martini, and I'll have my usual." He looked back at me, "I'd have ordered a different drink for you, but I don't want you mixing your alcohol."
I blinked. What if I hadn't wanted another drink?
Damon smiled, leaning forward to place his elbows on the table, "I'm quite pleased you did show up, Lena."
I blushed and looked down to my hands, picking at my nails nervously. "I almost didn't."
"I know."
I looked up and met his intense gaze. I reminded myself to take deep, steadying breaths. I still couldn't believe I was here, meeting him. Perhaps it was because he'd turned out to be far more than I'd expected and even dreamed. I hadn't even known what he looked like, hair color, eye color, body build...it'd all been a mystery.
"I like what you've done with your hair." He murmured and leaned back again as the drinks arrived. He didn't say a single word to the waitress who disappeared just as silently. I brought a hand up to my hair subconsciously. If he'd only known how many times I'd messed with it before coming here before settling on my natural curly wave that was practically untamable. I'd half pulled up the sides, my long bangs still falling down almost haphazardly. It was really difficult to get them to look that way, I'd spent hours getting them to fall exactly where I wanted them.
"Thank you." I smiled shyly.
"Tell me about yourself, Lena." Damon clinked the ice in his scotch once or twice before taking a small sip. I met his gaze with a smirk.
"What don't you already know?" I asked sarcastically.
His gaze darkened but the smile curving onto his lips changed the expression from frightening to well...a completely different type of frightening that I found I liked. It made my stomach clench in the most delicious way.
"That. That right there is what I don't know." Damon smiled wolfishly, "I don't know the real Lena, what makes you tick."
"Well aside from ripping me apart to peer at my insides, which I assure you doesn't whirr and tick like a clock, there isn't much to say." I shrugged with a blush. Damon's smile couldn't have gotten wider.
"And who says that's not what I'm already planning?" His voice was barely above a whisper but nonetheless, it made me quiver.
"I would hope you aren't an axe murderer, because that wasn't on my request form." I sipped my drink, raising an eyebrow. Damon laughed, a genuine smile meeting his eyes for the first time. It was a wonderful sound that made me toes curl. I half smiled back at him, still hesitant and shy.
The corner of his mouth turned up in a smile and he shook his head, "Lena, you are a breath of fresh air."
"What? You're telling me women don't normally talk back to you? Or are they all as deathly silent as that waitress earlier?" I smiled and leaned forward, "You are quite dashing, sir."
His eyes sparked and a wicked grin curved onto his lips at the word 'sir'. I smiled back, remembering the times I'd chatted online with him, roleplaying in that erotic chat room, pretending to be submissive. I crossed my legs under the table and bounced my foot slightly with a half-smile.
"Most of them are afraid of me." Damon purred, placing his elbows back on the table.
