She was drunk, and she knew it. Knew it like she knew her name and title, Kaitlin Donnelly, V.P. of Operations for a very large bank. Knew it like she knew the contours of the skintight dress that hugged her body like it had been sewn on. Knew it like she knew she shouldn't be flirting with the tall, attractive stranger at the bar next to her. Still, she denied it.
"I'm not drunk!" she insisted to the man... what was his name? Adam? Alex? Something like that, she was sure. "I'm just very relaxed this evening," she continued with a laugh.
He joined her in laughing. "You must not get to relax often, I imagine?" he asked?
"Not as much as I'd like" she returned.
"Not as much as you'd like What?" he whispered, leaning over almost touching her ear.
A thousand smartass remarks flipped through her mind as she looked him over. Taller than her by a few inches at 5-11 or so, he had the build of a college athlete who hadn't lost his edge. Broad shoulders, trim waist, long legs. Wearing a t-shirt with a stylish sports coat over it, and skintight jeans that left little to her imagination, finished with very hip leather shoes. She sighed, thinking how long it had been since her last relationship had disintegrated. Maybe she should give up on relationships and focus on the moment? She was fairly sure Andy (yes, that was his name!) was hers for the asking... but should she?
As she was ruminating on that topic, Andrew, as he preferred to be called, was taking the entendre-generated pause to drink in Kaitlin with all of his senses. He prided himself as a connoisseur of fine women; drinking them in as if they were a fine wine. He listened to the quiet sigh of her breathing. He could smell the alluring perfume she had dabbed in the hollow of her throat, and taste it's slight scent on the back of his tongue. His hand rested lightly on her wrist, alert for any signs that she was going to pull away from him. Finally, his eyes gathered her in, luxuriating in her beauty. Starting at her mane of crimson hair, so like the color of cinnamon. Traveling down the porcelain lines of her face. Admiring her body, the trim stomach and butt, the full breasts straining against the fabric of her confining sheath of dark fabric. He had trouble controlling himself, knowing in his heart that she was to be his this night. Knowing it was a sure thing.