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*YouShe is leaning over the counter when you walk into the hotel bar, stretched up on the toes of one boot as she reaches for something on the other side. You?re getting an eyeful of derriere clad in tight jeans and the flash of a tattoo where her shirt has ridden up. Your eyebrow lifts and a smile curves your lips. Maybe it?s a good thing you didn?t head straight to bed when you got back today. It?s been a long week and you?re tired but with the eye candy and the thought of the Manhattan you?re about to order ? things are looking up.She?s stretching as far as she can, and her fingers finally graze the top of the salt pot she?s been trying to reach. She grabs it with a triumphant smile then waves at the bartender. He shakes his head at her, returning the smile. ?If you?re not careful, people are going to think you work here you know.??What?? her voice is indignant. ?You were busy, and you forgot to give me the salt. A girl does what she must when it comes to her alcohol. No one would confuse that with actually being insane enough to choose bartending as a career!??You?re right of course,? he pauses for a moment. ?Except you gave me very detailed directions on how to pour those ridiculous shooters the ladies earlier asked for, and dressed Mr Grabby Hands down so subtly I don?t think he?s sure why his hands were suddenly very firmly buried in his pockets.? His tone is amused and the corner of her mouth curls just a touch, her voice almost mocking. The teasing lilt takes the sting out of her words.?Sunshine, I?m female. Keeping grabby hands off my ass is something I learned to do a very long time ago.? The smile widens into a sudden grin and she adds. ?But I did work that side of the counter for a long time, so I had to teach myself to do it without bloodshed.?***HerShe hears your laugh as you step into the open space near her. It is throaty, light, the warmth in it reaching for her, making her turn to look at the source. Heat flares in her gaze for a moment, but she tamps it down so quickly you?re not sure that?s what you saw. Her eyes flick to the bartender as he clears his throat and you turn to face him. There is definitely heat in his gaze, and you smile a little in response. The woman sees the smile and the grin turns wry, and you feel, more than see, the shoulder that lifts in an amused shrug. ?Looks like you have a customer, and I?m sure you can handle whatever the lady needs. You know where to find me if you need this.? She turns and starts walking away. Her step falters a little as she hears you placing your order.?Tell me you know how*to mix a Manhattan perfect and we?re not going to have to call the little lady away from her drink to help you out again,? your voice is soft, sultry without trying, as smooth as that bourbon sliding over the ice in the cocktail shaker as the bartender starts pouring. She reaches her table and slides into the booth, flicking her long plait back over her shoulder almanbahis şikayet as she gets comfortable. She?s the only one sitting there, but it?s late and the bar isn?t busy so she doesn?t feel guilty about taking up the whole thing to herself. Her gaze is drawn to you again, surveying you as you survey the small crowd.Your blouse is a soft white material that just barely hugs your figure, a tapered waist accentuating the soft flare of your hips, and the tiny buttons holding it in place cause her fingers to twitch. If just one more were undone she?d be able to see the bra hugging the soft swell of your breasts. Her eyes watch how the downlights from the bar catch fire in your hair and she wonders if your nipples are as pink as those fiery curls tumbling onto your shoulder's promise.The thought paints a delicious picture in her mind. Your skirt is just a touch too short, catching your long legs at about mid-thigh. She grins, not bothering to hide the heat in her gaze this time. You won?t be able to see it from across the bar. She loves a woman who is confident in her sexuality, flaunting everything that is feminine about her.Your head is turning slowly, eyes scanning the crowd. You seem to be looking for someone and she sighs softly, head bending back to the notebook she?s been scribbling in all night. Women who look like you are always meeting someone she thinks. Suddenly remembering the whole reason she went to the bar in the first place, she drops her pen back on the table.***YouThe soft clatter catches your attention and you finally see the face you?ve been searching for in your slow perusal of the bar. You watch as she sprinkles salt on a slice of lemon, downs what you assume is tequila with barely a shudder, then bites into the lemon, sucking it softly before slowly stripping the flesh from the peel ? all without looking up from whatever is lying on the table in front of her.A smile curves your lips, unformed thoughts about talented tongues dancing through your mind. You take a slow sip of your drink with a look of gratitude in the bartender's direction. Exactly how you like it. You give a little sigh of pleasure. His answering smile says it was more than just a pleasure but your eyes have already gone back to the woman. She?s made herself comfortable you see.One foot is tucked under her thigh, pointed toes of the other just barely touching the ground. She is writing furiously, her pen moving so quickly you wonder if it?s ahead of or behind her clearly racing thoughts. The booth is dim and her face is in shadows, but the light catches the sun streaks disappearing into her plait, warm honey among the dark strands. It also highlights the tendrils of hair that have escaped the plait, curling onto and tickling her cheeks as she huffs out a frustrated breath, trying to blow them out of her face.The pen stops moving and she?s back to scanning, making notes here and there as she flips a page back almanbahis canlı casino over. She lays the pen down, her hand reaching for the glass you didn?t notice sweating on the table in front of her. Her head tilts back as she arches her back and now the light catches her face. Pretty, you think. You weren?t just imagining it from the brief look you?d gotten just now. A strong jaw softened by a gently curving cheek and the hint of a cleft in her chin. Her naked lips a dainty cupids bow in a dusty pink rose.Your eyes linger on them as she releases the full bottom lip she?d caught between her teeth when she stretched. You remember large gentle aquamarine blue eyes, intelligence glinting behind the laughter that danced in them. Her head is still leaning against the back of the booth, her fingers absentmindedly tracing the condensation on the glass. You notice a faint scowl of concentration when she tilts her head back down and takes a sip of her drink. You wonder if she?d welcome a distraction.***HerShe grimaces as she swallows, the ice has melted and her drink is more water than anything else by this point. She glances toward the bar, hoping to catch the bartender's attention because it would be easier than going to get a replacement for herself. He?s occupied with the ridiculous shooter ladies and she smiles, wondering what they?re looking for this time. Are they a bridal party? Girlfriends bar hopping their way across town? Work colleagues celebrating the end of a stressful project? She flips to a blank page in her notebook while watching them, making quick notes. Their body language as they laugh about something with each other, flirt with the bartender, boisterous but not overly loud.She stands, picks up her glass, and crosses back to the bar; to the same spot she was when you arrived. ?You might be waiting a while,? she hears you say and her glance flicks to the flirting women before she turns to you. Her eyes meet yours for the first time and she?s caught by their emerald shade. Right now they?re warm with silent laughter, but she can imagine them cold and sharp with anger. Do they darken with passion she wonders? Or blaze?***You?That?s alright,? she answers. ?I?ve nowhere to be right now and who am I to deny someone the chance to flirt with a pretty woman?? Her voice is the same light honey that streaks her hair, sunshine warm and sweet. She has an accent you realise, listening to how it rounds out her words as she speaks. It suits her you think. You take the last sip of your Manhattan, your tongue darting out to catch an errant drop while you fish the cherry from the glass. Gripping the stem you lift it to your mouth, glancing at the woman as you do.Her gaze has dropped to your lips and this time there?s no mistaking the heat in it. You can feel it burning them. Your confession that it?s the best part dies in your throat and you hesitate a moment, breath catching. Her eyes lift almanbahis casino to yours, the smile she gives you is slow and slightly shy. ?Especially when it means I get to talk to a beautiful one.?For a moment you?re confused. Then you remember what she said before and her smile widens in response to yours, the cherry finally completing its journey. ?You always this smooth, Miss Sunshine, or am I getting the special treatment tonight???Yes,? she replies. Her expression says she?s not sure what came over her before, although her eyes dance with the nervous laughter that follows her answer.?Definitely smooth,? you say as the bartender comes over and she orders another tequila and the biggest cup of coffee they have. She looks over at you, indicating your empty glass with a tilt of her head.?Will you let me get you another one?? she asks. You look at the glass. At her. Considering. You notice the very light flush that has painted her cheeks and you smile again. Interesting you think.?Yes. Please. I?d like that very much.?She orders and sees the slightly bemused shake of your head when she turns back to you. Her eyes turn inquisitive. ?Something funny???No. Well ? just. Tequila?and coffee???Oh.? Her shoulder lifts. Her flush darkens. ?I have a tendency to get distracted when I go out. Forget about my drink.? She points to the clearly watered-down drink she?d returned to the barman. ?So instead of spending money on something alcoholic that I?ll only have half of, I order something non-alcoholic. But I still want alcohol because why on earth not, so I have a shooter as well.??And what could be so distracting that you forget about a perfectly good drink?? you ask, curious.?People.? Your brow furrows in query and she rushes to explain. ?I people-watch. All the time. People fascinate me. How they interact, talk, their mannerisms, funny little quirks. How they communicate when they don?t say a word. You can tell a lot about a person from those things. Their mood, how they feel about someone?a lot really. So I people-watch.?She falls silent, stirring sugar into her coffee. Her flush has darkened again and you wonder why she would be embarrassed by the explanation. ?People-watching is a good distraction,? you say contemplatively, your eyes drifting to the group that has moved back to their table. ?I do it often.? There?s gratitude in the look she gives you, maybe some skepticism as well. Her mouth opens to say something but you interrupt. ?I?m going to guess you?re an artist.? You glance at her hands, the short nails. They?re surprisingly small you muse. ?Artists are forever people-watching.??Not an artist,? she says. ?Well, not the kind you mean at least. I?m a writer.? She flushes yet again and her laugh is self-deprecating. ?Trying to be a writer anyway.? You frown slightly. She tries for an unconcerned shrug but her shoulders are too tense. Her eyes drop to her coffee. She stirs it again. ?So not art.? You almost don?t hear her next words, disguised as it is by the huff of air she aims at the flyaway strands of hair haloed around her face. ?Not a real job either. Apparently.? Understanding dawns. So someone had given her a hard time about her dream. Career?