Unexpected Arrivals(30)
Until I found Sideways Shots. I wasn’t sure how I’d even ended up here. It wasn’t my intended destination for the evening, yet here I stood just the same. Everything about this place was different than those I’d visited in the last couple weeks. Located off a side street on a corner, the heavy, metal sign hung like a banner calling to me. Lit from above, the blue glow of the neon against the hammered steel seemed a tad funk, a little modern, and right up my alley.
The inside didn’t disappoint. The house band that could be heard from the street played an eclectic mix of rock and alternative original music, and the people inside appeared to be a white-collar crowd—who I guessed to be late twenties to mid-thirties. While it wasn’t packed, there was a steady stream in and out the door, and most of them were friendly.
“Hey, what can I get for you?” A saucy brunette stared me straight in the eyes with one slightly closed, hinting at something I wasn’t sure was there. Her glance begged me to ask for her phone number, but then I realized this was how she brought in tips—that little glimmer would catch any straight man’s attention. And if it didn’t, her cleavage would.
“New Castle. Draft if you have it.”
She grinned and winked before turning around. The brunette delivered my beer and then passed four other people to take the order of a guy who could be my brother. While the men serving drinks dealt with the ladies, the other two females each had their own set of male customers. I watched with piqued interest as I downed my cold brew.
When I finished my first pint, the brunette raised her brows at me—she was waiting on someone else, yet I had her attention. I gave her a nod, and she delivered another chilled glass, just like the last. There was no “hi,” no “bye,” no “thank you very much” or “I’d love to suck your dick”—she just dropped off my drink and then turned to the newest person in the queue. When the crowd waned, she came by to ask if I wanted another glass.
“Yeah, thanks.”
When she returned a minute later, she leaned forward with her elbows propped on the bar and her chin in her hands. “You’re new here. How’d you find us?”
“Just trying some places out.”
“New to New York or just the social scene?”
“Social scene.”
“I’m Bridgette. Glad you wandered in.”
“James. My friends call me Carp.”
She got called away to do her job, and an unassuming woman slid onto the barstool next to me. I’d been sitting at the corner slightly turned to watch the crowd, so noticing her wasn’t difficult. The girl was cute, with short, red hair most women couldn’t have pulled off. Actually, she looked like she should be with the band and not at the bar. Her fitted shirt, tight jeans, and combat boots were better suited for rock-grunge than happy hour.
“I’m Collette.” She stuck her hand out in an introduction, completely throwing me off.
“Carp. Nice to meet you.”
“I haven’t seen you here before.” She paused to get the attention of one of the males behind the counter, who simply nodded as if he knew what she wanted without asking. Then she turned her bright eyes back to me. “First time?”
“Yeah. You a regular?” I didn’t think I’d ever get used to the difference in women in New York versus those in the South. I welcomed the more forward approach—it took off some of the pressure.
She laughed. “You could say that.”
Bridgette returned with a smile that could light up the room, although it wasn’t directed at me. “Hey, Letty. What the hell are you doing here?”
“Turns out I have no life outside these walls.”
“You need anything?”
“No, Eric got it. Thanks.”
“You work here?” I asked when she turned her attention back to me. It was the only plausible explanation based on the conversation.
“Yep, been here since we opened.”
Letty—as she preferred to be called—turned out to be the owner of Sideways Shots. She was smart and driven, and her employees seemed to adore her. I was impressed—and she was available.
The great thing about Letty wasn’t her tight ass or her outgoing personality—it was the fact that she wasn’t interested in anything other than playing the field. And that night, she let me play her in the loft above the bar that must have cost a fortune.
The place was silent even though I’d expected to hear the thump of the band beneath us. The industrial feel and the openness of the room left me exposed—more in a voyeur way than one that was uncomfortable. There was nowhere to go for privacy other than the bathroom, and the windows that lined the wall spanned from floor to ceiling. I didn’t have a clue if there were other occupied units that could peer in through the glass, and honestly, I didn’t care. This girl had been all kinds of upfront about what she liked and how she liked to have it.
And she wasn’t playing. She waltzed over to her nightstand and opened the drawer. From inside, she pulled out a string of condoms, promptly tore one off, and then tossed the others to the side. As soon as she threw the foil wrapper at me, she lifted her shirt over her head and then shed the rest of her clothing…all while I stood there and enjoyed the show.
“You going to join me, or are you just going to watch?” Letty cocked one eyebrow and gave me a come-hither smirk that brought my dick to life.