One
The acrylic toothpick clanks against the side of my glass as I swirl my olives in the drink. I can’t remember the last time I had a good martini… just the way I like it. Three olives and just enough brine that I can barely taste the burn of the alcohol.
It’s perfect. Which means I have to go slow or I’ll be passed out on the floor if I try to drink too many of these. But it is just what I need.
Behind him, shelves upon shelves are packed with bottles of every liquor you could imagine. Below that are rows and rows of glasses ready to be filled with every type of drink imaginable, some served cold and others hot, some containing water and others containing alcohol.
There is a constant buzz in the room as people talk about their lives, loves, conspiracies, movies – anything people can think of to talk about. The room smells like cigarettes and alcohol and breath mints and perfume, with an underlying layer of olive brine.
Friday night couldn’t come soon enough. The acquisition I’ve been working on with my partner for weeks, finally went through today. I have an early morning meeting tomorrow but for now I’m going to enjoy my cocktail and see where the evening takes me.
I am in much need of a celebration and a night away from reality.
Out of the corner of my eye, I watch as a man slowly but confidently makes his way toward my place at the bar.
His sandy blond hair is cut short on the sides but left longer on the top and styled in a messy just ran my fingers through it look.
A thin layer of scruff covers the lower half of his face.
His eyes are dark blue and clear, and they light up as they lock on me, as if they are two stars in the night sky.
His feet shuffle now and then, and he draws attention to himself.
Not because he’s being loud or rude, but because he wants someone to notice him, to notice that he’s there.
He stands one foot away from me and rests one hand on the bar.
His fingers tap lightly against the polished surface.
He folds his other arm across his chest, and his muscles tense a little under his shirt, making it pull against his broad shoulders.
He cocks his head to one side and grins at me, flashing a wide smile that reveals dimples in each of his cheeks.
"My name is Rick," he tells me with an air of assuredness as he holds his hand out toward me. Rick's smile is sincere, his handshake firm. He towers over me even though I'm wearing four inch heels.
I'm intrigued by the little bit of ink peeking out from the end of his sleeve as it slides slightly up his arm. If I were a judging woman I would see this clean cut guy and assume lawyer or accountant. But if he's hiding a tattoo or more maybe appearance's can be deceiving.
"I’m Ilsa."
"Nice to meet you, Ilsa," he says as the bartender hands him the beer he ordered and he takes a long pull from the bottle. Motioning to the empty table behind us he asks, "would you like to join me?"
A smile spreads on my face, and I say, "I'm waiting for someone."
Rick's face falls just slightly, and he wipes against his forehead with the back of his hand. He asks, "Is he coming?"
I sip my martini and think about it for a moment. "Maybe," I say, "or maybe not." I look back at the restaurant's door for a long moment, then back to Rick.
Leaving it at that, I turn toward the table and let him lead me away from the bar. He pulls one of the chairs out for me, like a gentleman, and pushes it in as I take a seat. Rick starts to take his own seat and motions to my nearly empty glass and asks, "Can I get you another drink?"
That's probably not a good idea. I had already planned on having one drink and then stopping there. We made eye contact and I felt a sudden jolt of electricity. I knew I was going to sleep with him tonight.
I take a sip of my drink, letting the alcohol wash away my inhibitions. I'm starting to feel a little bolder, so I smile and tell him, "I would love another drink, Rick."
His ocean blue eyes light up when I say his name and he gets the bartender's attention.
"What can I get for you?" he asks me.
"I'll have a dirty martini please… extra olives," I reply.
Rick nods and orders another round of drinks. We both sip at our drinks and then he looks back at me, "So, tell me something about yourself, Ilsa."
The stir stick finds its way back in my hands as I fiddle with it. Something about that question always has me freezing up and my mind going blank.
I gaze at him across the table, taking in his handsome features. His full lips and sun kissed skin. But I can't stop going back to those piercing cobalt blue eyes. They’re warm, mesmerizing, and I want to be swallowed whole by them.
Who even thinks something like that?
I giggle… jeez, the alcohol must be going to my head already. I should probably slow down. Sliding the glass away, I take a small deep breath and give him my warmest smile. "I assure you that my life is not very interesting. I'd love to know more about you."
"A gorgeous woman like you? There's no way your life could be described as anything less than interesting. I'll get you to tell me something later."
"What makes you think there is going to be a later?" I ask.
Rick shrugs, "Maybe I'm hoping that I play my cards right."
I bet he is. If there's one thing I can say about this man is he hasn't looked at anyone else since he gave me his attention. It's like we're in our own little bubble in the middle of this noisy bar.
"Hmm a gambler...do you work in finance?"
Based on his suit and tie that he’s wearing, I could see it. Just a quick stop for a drink on his way home from the office. A nice distraction from the stressors of the day.
"I'm a commercial pilot," he says with a grin.
Definitely not what I was expecting, but I'm also not mad about it. I wonder how many different exotic places he's traveled to around the world? I've been bitten many times with the escape of wanderlust, but responsibilities and life have always gotten in the way.
"That's exciting. Are you just in town for the night? Or do you live around here?" I ask.
Rick smiles, "Just for the night."
Well things definitely just got a little more interesting.