She sat on the wooden stool in the bar brooding over a glass of gin with a twist of lime. Belle was past angry. Trent had really pissed her off in his texts.
She was trying to be serious about him being so polite to her needs, but he would never say what he needed. She longed for him to say what he desired.
She typed, "I don't want a chameleon who changes his colors to suit the environment. I can buy one of those any day of the week!"
His reply, "M-mmm, baby!"
Belle text him back, "No, m-mmm baby! I am tired of it all."
He replied, "You are making me hard!"
After several texts, he typed for her to be at The Big Hunt in Georgetown around 8pm. Belle was right on schedule, but once again he was late. She had no patience for him today.
Trent leaned against the wall, his brilliant sapphire eyes searing through the crowd. She was there. He lifted his nose to the air as his nostrils flared. Her scent was wafting like candied sex stuck in the thick air. He swaggered towards the bar drinking in her splendor poured in the stool. Her dark hair straightened to cascade down the middle of her back. Her tight leather skirt hiked up her crossed legs. Her polished nails wrapped around a tumbler bringing it to her glossy full lips like a seductress.
Trent sneaked behind Belle placing his nose gently in her hair to take a long whiff. Her henna smelled like blackberries fused with crushed violet petals. He reached out to stroke her hair from the crown to the ends as she stammered, "Watch it!"
Pivoting she turned to see Trent. His scent drifting like sandalwood with a hint of musk. His body language was smooth like a drink of fine cognac. He had that mysterious vibe to him that all women found irresistible. She rolled her eyes whipping back to the bar with her stool.
He stopped her mid-swing, "Hey Gorgeous. How is Belle?"
She was still angry with him, "You have some nerve!"
He smirked, "Yeah, baby." The words smacked her, "Why do you have to toy with me, Trent?"
He grinned, "You know I love your toys."
Her eyes narrowed flashing dark sparks, "Are you serious? Really, Trent?"
Trent placed his hand on her upper thigh as she bit her bottom lip. He laughed, "Belle, baby."
She scowled, "Don't call me Baby!"
He inched his hand up under her skirt. She uncrossed her legs. She was so mad, but wanted his touch. His fingers crawled their way to the swatch of lace material he longed to feel. His finger deftly circling her pearl through the smooth material.
His pointer finger fell to her hidden paradise as he felt warm sticky honey on the lace stitching. He whispered next to her ear, "Someone has been a bad girl."