* This is the only time I've ever submitted a reedited story. It's a tale that doesn't really fit anywhere in the wide array of subjects that Literotica has so generously offered. I can only ask your indulgence in the subject I have chosen for it. I know it is an improvement, but that decision will ultimately be Yours.
Many, Many Thanks to All...
As usual, Mercedes was perfection. Tonight, she had her golden hair gathered in a loose ponytail and her expressive green eyes highlighted with just the right amount of make-up to hide the splash of freckles over her tiny, upturned nose. Her ready smile welcomed me when I settled in.
"Hello Michael."
Her red tipped hands moved over the walnut bar before laying the small paper napkin down. Tilting her head slightly to the left, her smile widened.
"It's been a while. Welcome back. Your usual?"
I smiled back.
"Why don't you pick me out a good bourbon."
"Oh my. Are we celebrating something tonight?"
"Hopefully."
For the first time she made the simple ritual a show for me; polishing the heavy glass tumbler, adding the ice and a quick wink at me as she chose a top shelf bourbon. I never took my eyes off her. The slacks, tight over her round bottom and her loose-fitting blouse somehow accenting her holstered breasts. I watched and she knew it. She turned and held my eyes coming back before gently setting my drink in front of me.
"Shall I start a tab?"
"Only if you want me to stay."
"Always..."
She leaned forward, offering a view of lightly tanned skin and the white lace cradling her breasts, to brush an imaginary something off my shoulder.
"Nice shirt. New?"
"Kind of."
"I like it, brings out your eyes."
She was flirting of course, only this time it was more. I offered my best smile.
"Why Thank You."
She settled back holding my eyes.
"What's hopefully?"
The smile a bit more playful now, her green eyes teasing.
"We'll have to wait and see."
Now it was my turn to tease. I chuckled before tasting my drink, then turned away on the padded leather stool to look the bar over. It was the usual Thursday night. Several attractive women, some more than others, anywhere between twenty-five and who knew for sure. Definitely upscale. Men in suits, some sans tie and others with their coats draped over the backs of their chairs.
I'd always felt a little out of place here before, but not now. The boots I had on cost more than some of the suits I was seeing.
I noticed a few women looking at me out of the corner of their eye. That seldom happened in the past. One extremely beautiful brunette, her strappy heeled shoe bobbing slightly stared openly at me. I smiled back softly but offered no other encouragement. Tonight was about Mercedes. Nothing else mattered.
At least not tonight.
Mercedes... She said her father named her and her sister after luxury cars. An excellent line for a beautiful woman on the prowl for a man of means. The other line I'd her drop over the last year I'd been coming here was, 'a woman can marry a rich man as well as a poor one.'.
Stunning beautiful and twenty-five years old, she had an eight-year-old daughter. Yes... it was true. No one here knew it. They weren't supposed to. I'd spent some time to find out, then hired a private detective.
Her daughter lived in San Antonio with her grandmother. Mercedes real name was Pamela Steffler. She didn't finish high school, choosing to marry the father of her child. That lasted about a year when he said goodbye and left. When her mother found out she started dancing to make ends meet, she broke their silence and offered to help with the kid. Pamela tried going back to school but was way past that. She even worked at a Publix trying to make ends meet before she fell off the grid until she popped up here in Houston, eventually getting the job as a bartender here.
She was also a Sugar Baby, 'Platonic Relationship' only. That little tidbit only came up with my now tech guy doing something called a 'Reverse Imaging' search. Her social media was pretty mundane, except for a few pictures of a beach trip she had taken. I had the best bikini pic on my home computer as well as a few others I found interesting.
That same guy set up surveillance goodies in my leased corporate apartment as per my attorney's advice. I never understood what a person had to go through after they hit the Lottery for fifty-two million.
"You can never be to sure Michael. Trust no one... One bad date... Your ex shows up just to talk... Friends crawl out of the woodwork... Better safe than sorry. Shawn can set you up very private cloud storage... Who knows. If you save everything, you solve problems before they start."
It all made sense, but I'd never thought of that or the million other things I needed to do.
"Another drink Michael?"
Pamela summoned me away from my thoughts, those beautiful green eyes teasing me again as I turned back around. Her hair was now loose, just past her shoulders as she stood closer against the bar.
"In a sec."
She leaned forward again. I could smell her hair now. Coconut. Her lips were freshly tinted, a darker shade of pink. More inviting. She was good, very good.
"See anything you like?"
There it was, right in front of me. The time was now. Inhaling deeply, I met those beautiful, inviting green eyes.
"Have you liked the roses?"
She tried to look surprised. But I knew a smart girl like her would have figured it out after T.J. had quietly let her know about my recent good fortune. 'Not a word' he'd made her promise.
"What do you mean?"
"A dozen long stemmed red roses every evening you've worked for the last two weeks... Except for tonight."
Her eyes narrowed a bit, her pink lips pouting.
"And how would you know about that?"
It was my turn to tease.
"And the large box you received today. Have you opened it?"
"What if I did?"
"Then you have only one question to answer."
The pout became a smile.
"Yes... Sunday evening would be perfect for our first date. Say seven?"
She slid a folded note across the bar with her address on it.
"I prefer Italian."
*****
