The young woman at the bar seemed intent on being alone, despite being dressed to kill. Bedecked in an eye-catching red dress, her golden hair cascading over her shoulders, she continued to sit at the bar, slowly sipping a Rum and Coke. Several slick-looking guys came over to hit on her, but before most of them even got the first word out, a piercing glance from her bright green eyes silenced them immediately. They would stop for a moment, as if paralyzed, then gulp, and dash off. Anyone who cared to look might have noticed them lewdly tenting their shorts as they did so. After a few moments, most of the people there opted to just leave her alone.
And so she sat for nearly two hours, watching people flirt and dance and drink, while the band on stage played a rocking beat. She seemed nearly ready to leave, when suddenly, someone entered the dance floor who immediately caught her eye. She smiled and watched as a tall, muscular clean cut young man sauntered into the crowd. Almost immediately, several women clustered around him, wanting to be the first to bump and grind with such a hearty specimen.
The woman in red stood up and strode to the table, not bothering to pay for her drink. The bartender, however, seemed not to notice as he watched her ass sway. The woman strode right through the crowd, which seemed to instinctively part so that she could go straight the tall man with the muscles. He noticed her just as she came up to him from the side, and blinked as she all but stepped into him. Before he could say a word, she reached up and kissed him deeply. The man was almost taken aback, but then the feeling of her lips tingled across his, and her tongue probed deep. He was suddenly compelled to kiss her back, and did so, running his hands through her hair and over her buttocks. The people around them watched with interest and a bit of jealousy.
"You're late," she said when she finally pulled away. "You're usually here by eight."
"I, uh... I got held up..." said the man, looking a little dazed. He paused and gave her a quizzical look. "Do I know you?"
"No," she said. "But I know you. You saved my life once..." she leaned up to his ear "...Solar Man."
The man's eyes went wide and he pulled back from her. "How did you know?"
The woman in red smiled and gripped his hand. "Come along," she said. "I want to thank you personally."
Still a little stunned, "Solar Man" turned and grinned at the people on the dance floor, shrugging with a "whaddayagunnado?" look. He let himself be let out of the club, and into city streets. "So, does my rescuee have a name?"
"Whitney," she said, still leading him by the hand. "Do you have a real name?"
Solar Man said, "Used to be called Duncan." He felt a little silly at being tugged along like a little boy, but then again, he was getting a terrific view of her backside, so he wasn't ready to complain.
"I see," said Whitney. "Not any more?"
"Secret identities aren't really in style anymore," he said. "Even still, how did you know who I was? I don't recall a time my mask ever came off in public—"
"I'm a telepath," said Whitney. "Well, more accurately, I can see people's daydreams and fantasies. Three months ago, you saved me from some zombies that had flooded the streets. You remember? The Voodoo Master, I believe, was the one responsible."
Solar Man nodded agreeably, even though he did not have the slightest recollection of seeing this woman. And she was definitely a looker. Still, they'd had to evacuate nearly a third of the city that day; she was probably just one of hundreds he'd personally kept from becoming zombie food. "Yeah, yeah," he said. "I think I remember you."
"No, you don't," she said, but with a slight smile. "It's okay. There were a lot of people that day."
They finally stopped when they reached her car, a blue Firebird. She let go of his hand to unlocked the car. "Get in," she said, motioning to the passenger seat.
Solar Man took a step back, and smiled amiably. "Okay, miss, let's say we slow down for a second," he said. "Maybe we should get some coffee before zipping off to your secret abode."
Whitney paused. "Funny," she said. "Your little fantasies indicate you're quite a fast player."
