I sat in a desolate booth, detecting shadows huddled in obscured corners, hearing hushed tones of conversation, while Ray provided the musical accompaniment at the piano. It was about 1AM, when after a futile struggle with elusive sleep, I had walked through the deserted streets, passing by clusters of kids who were probably out way past their curfew, feeling myself drawn to the all too familiar neon sign of the bar I had come to countless times before with my ex-boyfriend. I enjoyed coming here later, where I didn't have to deal with the flirtations and the unwanted advances, simply seeking some solitude, the company of a good drink, and to reminisce, of all things, about the past. God only knew why I always reverted back to these memories.
Then, he walked in, jolting me out of my reverie, shirt rumpled, the first three buttons undone, revealing the hint of a smooth, muscular chest, tousled dark hair like he had just stumbled out of bed, tight jeans that almost left nothing to the imagination, and tattered boots that had obviously trekked countless miles. He perched himself atop a stool and began talking to Sam, the bartender, as though they were lifelong acquaintances and that's when I was struck with recognition. I knew that voice and that irresistible Irish accent. And who could mistake that body? It was Colin Farrell! So unexpected was the realization, that all too suddenly, my arm knocked my half-filled glass off the table.
"Shit!"
I saw Colin turn from his conversation with Sam, his attention no doubt drawn to the sudden crash and loud expletive. I bent down, trying to assess how best to dispose of this mess when I felt a sharp sting and noticed a thin red line blooming on my index finger.
"Ouch!" I exclaimed for the second time in as many minutes. I heard hurried footsteps rushing in my direction and raised my head, feeling my cheeks flush. From embarrassment or because of the person now crouching beside me, I wasn't quite certain. It was cliched to say that he was so much more attractive in person than he was in the movies, but he truly was, even in his current disheveled state.
"Are you alright?" he asked worriedly, grabbing my shoulders and helping me to stand up, pushing me away from the shards of glass scattered across the floor, like glittering pieces of a jigsaw puzzle laying in a puddle of amber liquid and melting ice cubes. I just nodded, too stunned to utter a verbal assurance.
Colin reached for a napkin from the table, wrapping it around my finger before going back to the counter to retrieve a Band-Aid, returning to apply it. He inspected it carefully like a concerned physician, holding my hand a bit longer than was probably necessary.
Once Sam had cleared away the remains of my clumsiness, Colin walked over to the piano, talking amiably to Ray, requesting a few tunes before rejoining me, both sliding back into the booth together.
"Let's try again for proper introductions this time," Colin suggested.
"Trust me, I'm not usually this much of a klutz. Please let me buy you a drink to thank you for your, um, medical treatment," I offered, still rather flustered.
"I've been clean and sober for the past 5 years, only vice I haven't given up is beautiful women. Speaking of which, I'm looking at one right now," Colin said with a wink.
"Then how about dinner some other night?" I ventured, feeling myself blush once again, not really expecting him to accept.
"Sounds good. I'll be sticking around town for a bit. Movie shoot," he informed me. What were the odds of a celebrity actually filming anything here? It was practically unheard of.
We talked for a while, each taking turns telling the other about our lives. Colin's exposure in the media already revealed quite a bit of information. His reputation as a party boy and womanizer was no secret though I had the impression that the line between fact and fiction was often blurred.
"So, what's a sweet, pretty girl like yourself doing alone in a place like this?"
"I couldn't sleep," I simply answered, not wanting to elaborate on the details. I felt it wasn't something that could be divulged during a first meeting, and hopefully, the opening to a potential first date.
"Most people read or watch TV when they can't sleep. Me? I usually just masturbate," he said all too candidly with a naughty grin, causing heat to spread through my nether region at the thought of him stroking his hard cock to orgasm, imagining it was my own hand instead.
It was a couple of hours later and the bar was about to close. I was amazed at how long Colin and I had been talking so casually.
"Is there anything else you want to know about me?" I asked, fearing the conversation would end and we would both go our separate ways.
