Bar Scene
It was crowded at the bar when we got there. Martini's was a popular watering hole with the up and coming power players and the everyday hacks working in Denver's downtown office buildings. So by Friday afternoon, Happy Hour wasn't just a diversion, it was an obsession, and everyone who wanted to be someone was mixing and mingling in the crowds of the upscale bars tucked between some of the city's most venerable cathedrals of finance and politics.
Lana looked at me and shrugged.
"Just have to stand for a bit" she said.
Suits me I thought to myself, mentally running my mind's eye from her sexy ankle to the hemline of the micro-skirt that so barely covered her perfectly curved ass. The hint of a smile twitched her lips – I think she knew what was going through my mind. She'd already caught me staring at her perfect legs while she was sitting in the chair in front of my desk not more than a half hour before.
When I'd looked up and realized that she was watching me being mesmerized by the line of her crossed thighs disappearing under her tiny skirt, she didn't act as though she disapproved. In fact, unless I mistook the sign, she'd made a little promise when she pointedly made a show of uncrossing her legs which revealed the lacy black panties she was wearing, and recrossed her legs in the opposite direction. During this whole process, her eyes never left my face, and I could see what she was up to because she was far enough away from my desk that my field of vision was wide enough to take in the entire length of her from her head to her strapless sandals. That same twitch of a smile had played across her tastefully frosted lips then too.
Let me explain something about Lana. She was a few years older than me. Eight years, to be exact, older than me. She'd been a Playboy Bunny in St. Louis, Mo., and had caught Hef's eye. When he'd offered her the opportunity to "increase" her visibility, she politely declined, and was inexplicably offered to be shown the door not long after. She still retained the grace, poise and especially the beauty that Playboy Bunnies are renowned for, and a small solid gold Bunny pendant rested demurely at the base of her throat. The thin gold chain was all that adorned the long slender neck that could only be described as aristocratic.
Refined, articulate and sensual, all without seeming to work at being those things, Lana was a natural to catch the eye of any man, or woman for that matter, who appreciated natural intelligence and just a bit of enhanced natural beauty.
I moved away from her toward the bar, intent upon catching the bartender's eye. As this was our first date, if one could call it such, I wanted to show her that I was every bit the gentleman to her lady. I ordered drinks, Sour Apple Martini for her, Grey Goose Vodka Martini for me. In the half hour it took me to get them and make my way back to her, she had procured herself a seat on a barstool and was watching me elbow my way through the crowd. Her long back was three-quarters turned toward the bar, and she had those beautiful legs crossed again. I swear this time she did it on purpose, but as I approached her and could see more of her, she uncrossed and recrossed her legs, her eyes never leaving my face and that twitchy little smile playing across her lips. Once again, I was treated to a glimpse of those lacy black panties.
