This is a detailed version, but still not a full version of the dream i had earlier today. The full version was alot more graphic and i am too modest to put that on the internet lol Its a bit graphic but its good. Did i warn you that its kind of graphic?? lol
It was obviously a slow day when I walked in the door. The room was empty
except for me and the bartender. As I sit down at the bar I spot a curl of
smoke in the corner, I internally gasp and resist the urge to take a second
glance. I open my compact and pretend to be looking at my makeup when I notice
his eyes are on me. The handsome stranger lounging behind one of the bar's
enormous tables has his legs stretched out in front of him, one hanging off of
the arm of one of the ornate upholstered chairs. He waves a hand at the
waitress and whispers to her, simultaneously slipping her a seemingly large
bill with a charming smile. She blushes and hurries away to the bar and clamors
into the kitchen. I turn and he lifts his drink, nodding and smirking, slowly
sipping from his drink. "Ma’am, I have your drink, compliments of the gentleman in the corner". The bartender's voice snaps me out of my reverie and I clutch the
cold glass and stare down into its contents. Turning, I throw my head back and
let the amber liquid burn and claw down my throat, making sure that Mr. Mysterious takes notice. Ah, of course it’s whiskey. Not a personal favorite of mine but with
a small smile of my own and a tilt of my head I set the glass down, order two
more and walk towards this incredibly handsome, intriguing man in the corner.
The glasses clink on the
table as I set them down as gently as my shaking hands will allow. He looks
amused and his eyebrows rise before his eyes hold mine. He says “Are you
alright miss?” I glower at him. “I’m just fine, thank you.” I spit out before I
can stop myself. But no matter, because his smile reaches his eyes he tries to
hide his amusement behind his napkin as he dabs a bit of imaginary whiskey from
his beard. “You just seem lost, my dear. I’ve never seen you in here before.
Surely your husband didn’t leave you all alone for the wolves to get did he?”
He smiles a very wolf-ish grin behind his glass as he takes another small sip
of the drink I brought him.
Now it’s my turn for the eyebrow raise. Nearly
spitting my drink over the table, I quickly recover. Smiling sweetly behind my
napkin, I don’t attempt to hide my sarcasm “Oh, I am not afraid of any wolves, darling, I am one.” Smiling mockingly at him and batting my eyelashes I am
pleasantly rewarded with a wonderful full belly chuckle and he takes a nice
puff off of his cigar. “Would you like a cigar? Miss…I never caught your name.”
Good one, “I never gave it to you as you never gave me yours. Besides, I’m not here to smoke I’m
looking to get on the road soon. I’m headed to the Carolinas.” Recovering
quickly, “I see.” The look of disappointment is almost enough to change my
mind, “You’ll need a navigator then.” He smiles all the brighter. Taken aback,
my eyebrows come together as I frown, “I didn’t say anything about needing a
navigator, Sir. I will find my own way just fine, thank you.” He looks hurt, “Come
on now love, you need me.” His hand slides over the table and he places his
hand atop mine and strokes his thumb absently over my wrist. I feel like a bird
suddenly caught in a too-small cage and I’m sure my heartbeat is loud enough
for him to hear. I stare down impassively at his hand and then back to his
face. Studying his high cheekbones and long eyelashes, his eyes are the
deepest green I’ve ever seen and his mouth, full and slightly downturned he
smiles when he thinks he has me trapped in his spell. I remove his hand with my
other hand and unceremoniously drop it back onto his side
of the table. Smiling curtly I start to let him have it when he interrupts me, “Miss,
I really don’t mean to be forward, I just haven’t met such a lovely woman such
as yourself to be so brash and bold. I find this quite intriguing and can’t
seem to stop smiling since you walked into that door fifteen minutes ago.
Pardon my rudeness; I apologize if I have offended you. My name is Donovan." Bowing his head
slightly and raising his glass in a very contrite gesture. I laugh as I lift my
glass and the two collide with a clink. “I must say, Sir, you are quite the
opposite from what I am attracted to, yet I feel the same. I can’t seem to find
it in myself to be offended. Apology accepted. My name is Megan.”
He clutches his breast pocket in an attempt to appear hurt “Oh, you wound me
my dear. Why would you say such things when you know the love you have for me
is real?” He says all too loudly obviously he knows now the affect he has on me
or else he would have the right to look truly hurt instead of amused. Blushing,
I quickly duck my head and glower at him from under my eyelashes, “Don’t fool
yourself Donovan, love is a wasted emotion for those who are foolish enough
to believe in it. Don’t mistake me for one of those fools.” This time I have
wounded him and he swirls his drink with a small frown. He looks lovely with a
frown though, his eyes grow slightly darker and his eyebrows wrinkle together.
I can tell he's deep in thought as he rearranges the napkin under his glass and wipes
the condensation off of the outside with his fingertips. Strong hands
delicately trace patterns in the dew drops as he is silent for a moment. The
silence stretches to an almost uncomfortable level when he finally sighs.
Sitting back he smiles and says “Well I was going to give you this map of mine,
but I think I’ll just keep it. I’m of use to you now, seeing as you don’t have
one.” Grasping my clutch from my lap I realize he’s right, it’s been opened and
the map I had is no longer inside. “How did you swipe my things from
my lap without me noticing?!” I stammer angrily. Suddenly I feel a tickle along
my inner thigh as I realize also he has leaned forward and has a
not-so-innocent-bad-boy look on his face. “Why there are many things that I do
under the table that no one ever sees. Or rather gets paid not to see.”
My mouth
drops to the floor as I realize I’ve been had. He slowly slips his hand closer
and closer, running his fingertips to close to where none have ever been. I
blush deeply and leap from the table as if I’ve been burned. “I’m leaving. Give
me my map at once!” He stands, not much taller than I am and grasps my wrists
and leads me to the hallway leading to the bathrooms. Pinning my hands behind
me with one hand and holding me still with his hips, he takes his other hand
and brushes the lock of hair that has fallen from my face and tucks it neatly
behind my ear. Leaning in simultaneously he takes my earlobe in his teeth and
nibbles. I gasp when I can feel the pull to my toes and make no move to
struggle. My heartbeat is beyond what it should be and his mouth
connects softly to my lips. I breathe out as he breathes me in, my body melts
into his and I feel at home. I deepen the kiss as I kiss back and we are lost
for a few precious moments. He pulls away, to breathe, eyes blazing and face
soft and reverent. He is as captivated as I am, and is helpless to hide it. My
body feels alive, I feel him coming to life too as his hips are pinning me to
the wall. He doesn’t break all contact at once. It’s as if he can’t bear his
body to be separated. His hand slides from my wrist to my hand and I instinctively
lace my fingers into his and stare at our joined appendages. A perfect fit. My
hands, smaller with thinner fingers; artists hands and his, strong, calloused
and well groomed, working hands coming together to fit like two pieces to a
puzzle. My body feels relaxed, like something has clicked into place. Suddenly
I am in no hurry to leave this bar, or this man for that matter. He pulls me
magnetically it seems to sit back down at his table, this time in the seat with
him. The heavy upholstered suede leather is soft under my backside. The rich
copper tones make me look pale, regardless of my never dulling, deeply tanned,
olive toned skin. I sit between his knees, like a small child. My hands
passively lay in my lap and I am reclined back with my head beneath his chin.
His cigar has been neglected in the ash tray, it’s heavy, thick smoke curling
around us much like our desire. His drink is in his one hand, his other
stroking my arm from my shoulder to my wrist, stopping at my elbow to dip in
the little depression there. We sit in silence, I can still feel him strong and
demanding at my lower back, yet we are in no hurry.
What
has happened so quickly? “He is a stranger!” my conscience screams at me. I am
not listening to her it seems as I smile up at him and take his drink from his
hand. I sip the whiskey and let it run through me, heating my blood and sending
courage through my veins. I don’t know where this night is going to lead me,
but I have an idea and I’m ready.
