It was open mic night at some pretentious coffee shop. She had begged him to come see her sing, so he had conceded, though he hated places like that.
At seven o' clock, he walked through the doors and saw her just walking onstage then.
She had dressed for him, he could tell—her low shirt, a black lace bra peeking from the corner, a tight pencil skirt, and high heels.
She carried her guitar, smiled shyly, and introduced herself.
He listened as her voice carried across the shop, watching, enthralled, as her breasts moved with each strum of the guitar. Her adept fingers caressed the strings, her lips forming the words of a familiar song.
She finished her performance. Light applause could be heard as she stepped offstage and pulled her hair out of the ponytail she had it in. He watched as she shook her hair and sighed, her chest heaving.
He smiled and approached her, saying, "Were you nervous?"
"Of course not," she replied haughtily, embracing him tightly.
She thanked him for coming, a genuine smile brightening her face.
He stroked her hair and said, "I love that song, you know."
She smiled and nodded.
"That's why I picked it," she replied
He placed a hand on her waist.
She allowed him to guide her to a table by a window as a poetry slammer began to whine into the microphone.
He wasn't sure how much more of this he could take. But as he watched her gaze at the performer with interest, he smiled and decided his patience was far from spent.
He asked if she'd like something to drink. She politely asked for a glass of water, though he knew she want something sweet..
He approached the counter and ordered himself a coffee, and her a glass of water
Sitting on the counter, a jar of lollipops caught his eye.
He grinned in a sly manner.
At the table, she sat and played with the hem of her skirt. She was so happy he'd come to see her that night.
She watched him as he stood at the counter. She traced her gaze down his broad shoulders and his muscular arms. As he turned, he caught her looking and smiled brightly. She sighed, wondering how she'd gotten so lucky to find someone like him.
He came back to the table and set her water down in front of her.
She drank deeply, leaving a pink lipstick stain on the rim of the glass.
He moved his chair a little closer, trying to ignore the next performer, a shaggy man with a drum, who was hollering nonsensical phrases into the mic.
She looked into his eyes and stated, 'Something on your mind?'
He took her hand in his and pressed something into it. She looked down to see a lollipop in her hand.
She smiled.
"These are my favorite candy," She said in a singsong tone.
Before she could touch it, he gently clenched his hand around hers, holding the lollipop inside,
and pulled the wrapper off with his teeth.
He slowly lowered the candy to her lips.
She opened her mouth in anticipation, but he drew it back slightly.
She pouted.
Her gaze became quizzical.
"Wha-" she began.
He leaned over, his lips close to her ear
"Say please," he whispered in a deep, rumbling tone.
She felt a tingle shoot down her spine.
"Please, may I have it?" She murmured.
He gave a half-smile and placed it upon her lips, and she took the sweet candy into her mouth.
