Stacy knew how to dance. She also knew how to make grown men drool whilst they watched her dance. She lost herself in the rhythm of the music; closing her eyes and letting her body sway to the beat. She moved her hips slowly and seductively; running her hands through her hair and over her body as if she were flirting with the small space surrounding her.
Any man watching Stacy would have had to be gay or blind not to be entranced by her. The sight of her body; five feet eleven inches of long tanned limbs and spectacular curves and her face; oval shaped with sapphire blue eyes and full pink mouth, surrounded by golden blonde curls that hung half-way down her back was sure to reduce any man to a mass of quivering jelly. She knew this, and used that fact to her advantage as often as she could.
As she danced, she looked over towards the bar. She had guessed correctly that all the men stood there would be staring at her, but one in particular caught her attention. His mysterious eyes, chiselled jaw and shaggy dark hair meant that he warranted more than a passing glance. Stacy caught his eye and smiled slightly; moving her hips with more purpose. She tossed back her head, her golden hair falling luxuriously over her bare shoulders and back; but when she looked over at the bar again, he was gone.
With a frown, Stacy signalled to her friends and nodded towards the bar; informing them that she was getting another drink. She manoeuvred herself through the sweaty bodies that filled the dance floor and perched herself on a barstool.
“Jack Daniels and diet Coke please, plenty of ice.”
The barman’s eyes drifted down her body, as she knew they would. She was certainly worth a look; dressed in an extremely short denim skirt and a sparkling black halter top. He quickly got her drink and slammed it down on the counter in front of her, the contents of the glass spilling slightly.
“I’ll get that.”
Stacy smiled and turned to thank the generous owner of the deep voice behind her. Her smile widened when she was suddenly face-to-face with the guy she had spotted not five minutes earlier. He was even more handsome up close; his dark eyes were flecked with gold and his hair curled adorably over the collar of his white shirt. She licked her lips slowly.
“Thank you.”
He nodded and walked away. Stacy frowned again, deeper this time. She wasn’t used to nonchalance from men; usually they couldn’t get enough of her. She grabbed her drink and jumped down from the barstool, hurrying until she fell into step beside him.
“What? You’re just going to buy me a drink and then just walk away?”
“That’s what I’m doing, isn’t it?”
“Yes, it looks that way. But why?”
“I knew you’d follow.”
Stacy stopped, her mouth dropping open slightly. This was definitely new. She knew that he was attracted to her, why else would he have bought her a drink? But then why was he playing hard-to-get? In any other circumstance, Stacy would have turned around and rejoined her friends but there was something about him that she couldn’t walk away from. She dropped down into a chair beside the table at which he was seated. She saw that he was watching her, a smug grin on his lips making him look all the more attractive.
“I’m Stacy.”
“Michael. Nice to meet you, Stacy.”
“Like wise.”
They eyed each other, like predators circling their prey. Stacy crossed her legs slowly, pleased to see that his eyes covered every inch them as she did so. She picked up her drink and took a sip, running her tongue across her lips seductively as she replaced the glass onto the table. So, he wasn’t very talkative. His good looks more than made up for his lack of conversation skills.
“So, Michael, what do you do?”
“Look, Stacy. How about we cut out this bullshit small talk and just cut to the chase. I’ve wanted to fuck you since I saw you on the dance floor, and I know you want the same from me. So finish your drink and let’s get the fuck out of here.”
“You’re very sure of yourself, aren’t you?”
“Yes, as are you. You know what you’re doing, wearing clothes that wouldn’t look out of place at a strip club and shaking your arse like fucking Beyonce. I’m leaving now, it’s your choice whether you come with me or not.”
Stacy stared, mouth agape, as he stood up and left the club. She’d never been spoken to like that before in her life. She shrugged and drained the last of her drink from the glass, and got to her feet. She walked quickly over to her friends and grabbed her bag and jacket, telling them that she was going home early. With a wave, she quickly exited the nightclub. She spotted him striding down the dimly lit street, his hand shoved deep into the pockets of his jeans.
