Speechless with Teeth

I was on vacation when we met. Thomas Scarlett. Charming little bastard he was. He was tall, dark, and handsome, just like in the movies. When I first saw him, I was put off. 'A little bit too dark for my taste,' I remember thinking to myself. I had gotten so used to men like Jake, with his pasty-colored skin and bright eyes with an average height. Thomas was the total opposite. He was also wealthy, having made a small fortune in a short time buying out real estate and a little bit of trading, all while attending medical school. Yes, he had the social status and the good looks. All he was missing was a wife to be by his side. Unbeknown to me, he'd had his eye on me the entire time since he'd first laid eyes on me at a beach bar.

When I sat again at the same bar that one morning in my regular clothes, he confidently walked right up next to me, sitting in the bar stool right next to me. He flashed me a very bright grin.

"Mind if I buy you a drink?"

I peeped out from my sunglasses, not really impressed. My expression didn't even seem to faze his beaming confidence.

"And you are?" I asked.

He bowed quickly, then looked back up at me.

"My apologies. I didn't even introduce myself! My name is Thomas Scarlett, and in case you haven't noticed yet, I'm very interested in getting your name as well."

I chuckled in amusement and shook my head. Another victim, I thought. "Offering to buy a drink for a woman you don't know seems a little shady, Mr. Scarlett."

He laughed, flashing his bright grin at me once again. "Please just call me Thomas."

I smiled arrogantly. This was going to be fun. "Shayla Turpin. So, what brings you here this fine day, Thomas?"

He shrugged. "It's a good time of year to be here. Not too hot, not too cold, and not many people here this time of year anyhow." Turning to the bartender, he ordered himself something to drink. He continued, "So, living the fun single life?"

I shook my head. "Hmm. I suppose. Neither single nor attached life has had its fill of fun for me."

He laughed, taking a sip from his glass. "Grass is greener syndrome, eh?"

I scoffed. "Nope."

He turned back to me. "So when do you head back home?"

"Saturday," I quickly answered.

He smiled wide. "So how would you like it if I said I wanted to take you out tomorrow?"

I let out an amused laugh, staring up at the sky. "I would say that you're a little forward."

Flashing me that bright grin once more, he sat up straight to look at me. "Well, I'm a businessman. Can't very well get anything accomplished if I wasn't forward, could I?"

I looked down and shook my head. A determined little bastard he was. "Alright then. Tomorrow. Meet me in front of the hotel and then we'll talk. Sound good?"

"What time?" he quickly responded.

"Noon," I answered.

"Perfect," he replied. "See you at noon tomorrow."

The next morning, I sat in the hotel lobby around noon waiting for Thomas to show up. Part of me was a little surprised at myself for agreeing. Some other part of me marveled at my new potential victim. It was now 12:03. Thomas had not shown up yet and I was already getting impatient. The heartless side of me surfaced as I saw him walk in, a full four minutes after noon. I sat with my arms crossed, tapping my foot.

"You're late," I spat out with venom.

Thomas lightheartedly laughed at me. "My apologies."

I turned away. "You aren't funny. I have half a mind to just get up and leave."

"Half a mind?" he questioned. "Well, if that's how you feel, I can't stop you."

I froze my face struck red, as I had no comeback to that.

He chuckled lightly. "Good, good. Now, if you're ready, let's go."

I, almost drawn to his lighthearted arrogance, reached out my hand to him and allowed him to guide me out of the hotel as we made our way out to the town.

*****

"Pour me another shot!" I shouted to the bartender. As I gulped down the alcohol, Thomas stared at me. I glared at him.

"Is there something wrong?"

He sighed dreamily. "Nothing's wrong, Shayla, but...you're such a beautiful woman."

I motioned for the bartender to pour me another shot and gulped it down fast and looked over at Thomas, slightly buzzed. "Beautiful? Tch. You haven't seen much then."

He shook his head. "That's a very upsetting way to think of yourself."

I rolled my eyes. "Another shot!" I yelled to the bartender.

Thomas looked at me, concerned. "Are you sure you should be drinking this much, Shayla?"

I shrugged. "I have a high alcohol tolerance."

Thomas sighed heavily. "I have a very bad feeling about this..."

The more time passed, the more shots I had. Not long afterward, I was hammered. I stumbled over, falling on top of Thomas, who had yet to have even one drink. He worriedly caught me, looking into my eyes.

"Shayla, you're drunk."

I giggled. "Not drunk...just...a little...tipsy...that's all." As I finished that sentence, I couldn't help but hiccup and begin laughing uncontrollably again.

Thomas sighed heavily. This had to have been the worst date ever.

"You're smashed," he said. "Here, I'll take you back to your hotel."

Seeing that I couldn't walk myself back to the hotel, Thomas paid the bartender, picked me up, and then carried me out of the bar, back to the hotel.

After he carried me to my hotel room and placed me on my bed, I grabbed him in a drunken stupor and pulled him close to me.

"Let's do it now. Right here."

I drunkenly pulled him to me and forced a kiss on him, only to feel him push me back.

"Shayla, you've had far too much to drink."

I growled in a fit. "Why?! Isn't my body what you wanted in the first place? Isn't that why you started hitting on me?"

He shook his head, taking out a piece of paper and a pen, writing something down.

"Sorry to disappoint you, but no. That isn't what I want. Here, I'll make you a pot of coffee for when you sober up, and this piece of paper has my number on it. Call me when you're back in your normal mind and we'll talk, okay?" With that, he quickly made a pot of coffee and left as I fell asleep in a drunken fit.

The next morning I woke with a horrible migraine. I sat up. "What the hell..." I mumbled to myself.

The day before was fuzzy. I looked around. It was just me in my hotel room. I looked down at the nightstand. On it was a piece of paper.

'Shayla, you probably don't remember last night but if you are still interested, I would like for us to talk some more. Preferably without a bartender involved? Call me when you can.

-Thomas'

I smiled a little to myself, the memory becoming a little clearer. I was impressed; he didn't take advantage of me. Picking up the phone, I dialed the number that was on the sheet of paper.

"Hello, Thomas? I was wondering if that offer you wrote here on your note was still open...how does Friday sound? Good."