Tommy goes to the club by himself, orders one drink at the bar and watches her dance on a stage further away.
He watches her navel, the dip and rise in her lingerie where her hips meet her waist and far below her navel, where the absolute hottest part of her body is hidden. He watches her press her ribs against the pole and arch her back. He wants to press her ribs against a bed, and arch her back, raise that ass while his fingers work.
Tommy slams his empty glass on the bar.
“Another double,” he says to the pretty redhead in the ripped white undershirt. She’s not wearing a bra and her nipples are huge. He stares at them as she refills his glass.
Howls come from the stage and Erica’s nipples pull his focus. He wants to suck on them until she cant take it anymore, until she cries; real, wet, streaming tears of ecstasy all the way down that pretty little face of hers. He wants to see her face up close in every possible shade of pleasure and torment when he finishes inside of her.
He gulps down the drink and leaves.
As Erica walks to her white hatchback she hears clicking heels across the lot, keeping rhythm with her own footsteps. She doesn’t know who’s left inside or outside the club, and even if she screamed no one would hear her. She doesn’t want to look up. She doesn’t want to see who’s feet have stopped moving toward her.
“Hey!” he calls.
She’s close to her car, but between her and the driver’s side are a sturdy pair of midday-blue denim-covered thighs. The zipped bulge in the middle perfectly aligned with the keyhole to her door.
Erica inhales sharply, and tries to channel Bernie’s no-nonsense brass balls.
“Listen,” she looks up to find familiar eyes.
It’s one of the guys from last night. The nicer one, who drove her home but stayed in the car while the other one tried to move on her.
Erica doesn’t soften when she says, “I gotta get home.”
“Hey,” he smiles warm and easy.
Erica feels the nerves at the center of her body begin to ignite. He was god-damn attractive. She shifts her weight, determined not to show any signs that his charm affects her. But she can’t help to notice his blue eyes twinkle in the dim light of the parking lot.
“Sorry,” he says. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”
“You didn’t,” her voice comes out high and nervous. Erica starts over, “You didn’t startle me,” she says flatly.
“Good,” He says, “Because I didn’t want to do that. I wanted to give you a ride home, make sure you got in all right.”
“Thanks, but I’ve got my car tonight,” Erica tells him. “You’re sitting on it.”
“You get a lot of guys waiting out here for you?”
“No actually,” she answers. “No one’s that stupid.”
He looks intensely at her.
“How long you planning on dancing there?” He switches his gaze and tilts his head toward the club. “You gonna show off your tits till they don’t stay up anymore? And then what?”
Erica moves closer to him, stares defiantly into his face.
“What’s it to you?” she asks. “They’re my tits.”
He shuts his eyes, takes a breath and straightens up before opening them again.
“I run a bar,” he tells her. “We serve burgers, fries, beers, and my girls all keep their shirts on. At least as long as they’re on shift, and while I’m around. You want a new job where you don’t have to act like you like being grabbed by fat guys all night?”
“Fat guys eat burgers and drink beers. And guys grab girls everywhere.”
“Yeah well at Freddy’s you don’t have to take it and you get to give it back to them.”
Erica squints at him. “Oh yeah?”
“Oh-oh, yeah,” he nods. His hands are crossed at his waist. “Something tells me you’d just love to give it back.”
“Maybe you’re right.”
“I’m always right, doll.”
He’s too confident.
Erica rolls her eyes. “Maybe I’ll check it out,” she tells him. “Right now I want to go home.”
“No problem,” He brings his body off the car. “But why don’t you let me drive you home and tell you about the job? I’ll pick you up tomorrow and bring you back here so you can give notice and get your car. And if they owe you money or give you a hard time I can take care of it.”
Erica stares at him thoughtfully for a long while. She doesn’t move a muscle on her body as she peers at him, trying to decide if he’s for real.
She isn’t worried about him trying anything in the car because the truth is he’s hot as hell and she can practically feel his chest hair on her fingertips as she rips apart his cotton shirt and yanks it from his body. She can all but hear the sound a button or two will make popping from his shirt, falling between their bodies.
If he really wants to give her a job he won’t make a move. If he wants to fuck her they can do that in the car and she can take herself home.
She stares at him longer, waiting for a tell. She looks him right in the eyes, ignoring the temptation to eye his mouth.
“Okay,” he slaps his palms against those durable thighs. “I’m gonna start my truck. You can come along if you want to.”
Erica turns her body with his as he take his first step in the direction he came from.
“What’s your name again?” she asks.