End of the fiscal, middle of the week. At least the DJ playing tonight was one of the chill ones she liked. It would be a nice reward when she's done with the last bit of paperwork; being the bookkeeper at the club has its perks.
One last submit button, one last electronic signature. Logging off for the night, she looked around the office making a mental inventory, double-checking everything before she made her way to the VIP area. Any empty balcony is fair game for employees on weeknights. She's been looking forward to this all day, just relaxing on one of the plush sofas and letting the slow steady beats lull her into a sort of meditation.
Middle of the week, there are lots of empty balconies to choose from, including her favorite.
"Ooof!" Instead of the soft sofa under her when she flops down, there is a pair of legs.
Shooting back to her feet, she turned to see a man stretched out on the sofa.
"Oh, shit! I'm so sorry, I didn't think anyone was in here!"
"No, no, I shouldn't have been laying down like that, it's my fault," the man says quickly, scrambling upright.
His expensive suit and shoes would not have been out of place in a board room somewhere, but they were not typical club attire. In fact, he doesn't look like most of their regular clientele. He's handsome in a way she didn't see in person too often, unaffected, like he didn't know he was handsome. Slight imperfections, a small scar here and there, only serve to highlight his good looks.
He sat up and gestures to the seat next to him.
"Hey, pop a squat! It looks like my friend bailed on me. We were supposed to be kind of celebrating. I'd appreciate the company."
Sadness touches his eyes. He seems a little uncomfortable in the club like he wasn't exactly sure how to act.
"Well, I'm kind of celebrating, too, so yeah, thanks," she answered, plopping down, next to him.
His smile sort of dazzles her momentarily, the gratitude of it surprising. It's then that she noticed the champagne bucket near the arm of the sofa. Two glasses. He turned to pour some and offered her the other glass.
Louis Roederer Cristal Rosé. Shit. Either this guy was really loaded or has a hell of an expense account.
He extended his hand to her and introduced himself.
"What are you celebrating?"
She introduced herself and noticed his hand in hers; large and strong, his grip was friendly and inviting. Immediately she wondered what those hands would feel like on her, on her skin.
"As for celebration, it's the end of our fiscal quarter. I'm the club's bookkeeper, so getting that wrapped up with no glitches makes me sort of happy, you know?"
She felt a little out of her league telling him this, he was obviously much more successful than her, but she was proud of the job she's done so she owns it. He punched her arm lightly.
"Way to go! Yeah, I know the feeling." He takes a sip of champagne.
"Sorry your friend bailed on you when you're supposed to be celebrating. What's your occasion?" she asked, moving closer.
He waves his hand dismissively.
"Ah, just a business thing, you know? Not actually a big deal, but it's nice to take the little win sometimes, right?"
She nodded and scooted just a little more in his direction. She was close enough to smell him and he smelled amazing, like laundry dried in the sun and masculine sweat, slightly spicy, comforting and alluring.
The sadness is back in his eyes momentarily, then it's gone. It was at odds with his words and the contrast made her want to massage his neck and get him to relax. Actually, she really just wanted to touch him, she thought to herself.
She moved close enough now that their thighs were touching. The sofa was plenty long; he had been stretched out fully on it when she nearly sat on him. Heat was radiating off of her in waves and she wondered if he could feel it, what he thought of it.
Head propped on a hand and an elbow braced on the back of the sofa, she turned toward him.
"I've been waiting all day to hear this DJ, what do you think of them?"
