The bar was heaving during a typical Saturday night.
Looking left and right we were three deep at the bar. The four staff and Steve were working efficiently to keep the queue down to that two or three deep at best.
She catches my eye, not for the first time in yet evening as she extends a slender arm and takes the change from Scott my newest barman. A little wave and slightly mischievous smile crossing dark red lips as she moves away, I offer a smile in return before I am immediately pulled away from her attention by indignant demand for two pints of lager and two whiskey chasers from a muscular bearded male in a black and red check shirt.
As I take the order I watch her step away, blonde shoulder length hair framing a pale face, I note the black denim jeans that cling to her shapely legs that emphasised by black heels as she walks away, she does not look back.
I catch Steve's eye with a nod as I turn to the optics and dispense two neat shots of cheap scotch
"What?" He offers in a flustered tone as he passes me carry a tray of freshly cleaned glasses.
"The blonde..." I raise my voice over the noise of the bar.
"What blonde?"
"The blonde who was just at the bar... I recognise her but don't know where from?"
"Oh her...Me too" Steve offers, wracking the glasses on the countertop. "Not sure where from... have you fucked her?"
Steve offers a savage grin to punctuate his question
"I'm sure I'd remember if I had." I chuckle darkly as I pass him and begin pulling two pints to accompany the shot glasses I set down on the bar. "Although... I fucking would."
I look for her once more, but she is lost to the sheer number of patrons rammed into the sweaty claustrophobic bar.
"I'd double it with you," I hear Steve caustically offer from behind me as he steps away.
"I wouldn't fucking share one like that with you," I offer doubting he even hears me.
Setting the drinks before the bearded patron I grab the card payment machine and hold it towards him.
"Thirteen Eighty-Five," I offer, over charging him just for his earlier blunt attitude.
He makes payment without question.
**********
6 Nights later
Heading up the stairs to the flat which I know will be empty, given prearranged plans with Steve, I hear the heels of her boots as she follows me up the stairs. Outside I hear the taxi pulling away.
Entering the living area I turn and meet her eye, a nervous uncertainty etched across her perfect features which she attempts to hide behind an uncertain little smile.
"I... I don't really..." she offers pushing her blonde bobbed hair, which seems shorter than last week, behind her left ear as she stands before me.
"Make a habit of this?" I finish her sentence for her as I take hold of her hands.
Her simple nod as she looks to the carpeted floor meekly confirms this.
"I'm flattered then," I confidently state as I break the grip and place my right forefinger under her petite jaw and tilt her head up to face me.
As her wide pale blue eyes meet mine, I lean forward and kiss her gently. A kiss to test the waters which lingers before she eventually returns it and I taste the sweetness of the cocktails she had consumed in the Dock Side bar.
A kiss that slowly builds in intensity much like the first kiss just before we had hailed the Taxi that had brought us back to the flat.
I knew what I was doing I knew what my intensions, my desire, my plan had been since the penny had dropped in the bar last Saturday night when just before closing, I had cornered her heading back from the toilets. As she introduced herself it became instantly apparent how I recognised her. Carly Williams. A slightly flirtatious tipsy chat, on her behalf, had followed while a group of her friends had lingered behind her waiting to head home at the end of night.
Telephone numbers exchanged we had swapped increasingly flirtatious messages across a number of days before meeting for an innocuous coffee in the City late Wednesday afternoon. Familiarity built I had suggested the late Friday evening rendezvous at the quite little cocktail bar. affording myself the luxury of a night away from O'Leary's confident that the bar could survive even a Friday night without me, with Steve at the helm.
I had laid my trap and so far, Carly Williams was walking straight into it.
As we kissed, I felt her relax, her arms eventually reaching up and draping around my neck as mine slide over her slender waist, feeling the cool exposed skin just above the waistband of her skirt. Pressing my tongue into her mouth she responds as I feel her tongue press back against mine.
Moments later I opt to break the kiss.
"Can I take your jacket... fix you a drink?" I offer and she stands there her arms still laced around the back of my neck.
"Sure..." Carly offers slipping her arms down and shrugging out of the little black leather jacket, "...do you have any Vodka?"
I take a step back and cannot help but cast my eye over her toned 19-year-old physique, still barely able to believe she is even here. She is not tall maybe five and a half foot tall in her heels at a guess. She blushes as she catches my gaze and wraps her slender arms around her exposed toned midriff. The short zip through black bra top under her jacket was coupled with a pale blue denim skirt with distressed frayed hem. Her legs accentuated by knee high black leather viciously high heeled boots. Noting my gaze, she shifts nervously from foot to foot a little as she hands me her jacket.
"Vodka sure," I break the silence and my gaze as I take the jacket and head to my left to the kitchen area of the open plan flat, which Steve has mercifully left tidy for once. "Make yourself at home."
As I hear her cross the room towards the sofas, I hang her jacket on the back of tall chair at the breakfast bar. I grab a bottle of Smirnoff Vodka, a bottle of Jack Daniels and two tumblers. Crouching at the fridge I open the door and check the ice compartment, only to find two empty ice trays.
"I'm afraid I've only Coke for a mixer and there's no Ice," I call out to her.
"I don't know..." Carly's tone is playfully sarcastic, "...you call yourself a Barman."
"Bar Owner," I cheerily correct her. "And I don't bring my work home with me."
A dark grin passing my lips and the fabrication I spin knowing full well Carly to be the latest in a seemingly endless supply of girls, or women that have found themselves in my company via the bar. That number notwithstanding the collection of individuals who do not make it back here and are entertained at the bar occasionally finding themselves as temporary residents of the establishment.
I pour my drink neat and crack open a can of Coke to part dilute the heavy measure of Vodka I pour into her glass.
Headed back towards Carly, I find her sat cross legged on the edge of the royal blue three-seater sofa.
