Rayna: I would. But maybe we need to exchange more information before I meet them.
That landed low, right where I didn’t need it. I had choices—play it safe, keep it light. But she’d see through both.
Me: One drink. One truth.
Rayna: Where?
Me: South Side. Small spot, so we aren’t the entertainment. Quiet tables.
Rayna: I don’t do warmups.
Me: You don’t need them.
Rayna: 9.
Me: 9.
Shower.White shirt that fit my chest and shoulders. Clean lenses. Wallet, keys, cue. My dick had its own opinion by the time I hit Carson Street.
Tilt& Tonic didn’t shout. Low ceilings. Lamps the color of honey. R&B rolling steady in the background, a bassline you felt deep. Two tables in the back—enough space to play, dim enough to forget who was watching.
She came in at 9:06, and the room shifted.
Cargos again—fitted, holding her in ways that made my throat tighten. Black cropped hoodie knotted at her waist,SPARKYbold across her chest. A flash of skin every time she moved. Hair high in a bun, hoops winking light, vanilla warmth cutting through the bodies she passed. Not a performance. Just her.
No smile. Didn’t need one. Her eyes found me, chin lifted like we’d already started.
“Teacher man,” she said.
“Electrician.”
That curve of her mouth again—trouble written on lips. “You buying?”
“Always.”
Bourbon neat for me. A Dark & Stormy for her. She tapped rims before sipping, her eyes holding me steady, deliberate.
We drifted to the table, drinks set down without looking away.
She chalked her cue slow, leaning one hip to the felt. “One drink. One truth.”
“You break.”
Tap-tap. Her smirk was a blade. “Don’t cry when I take the table.”
“I don’t cry,” I said. “I count.”
“Cute,” she tossed back, bending low.
My body had ideas before the cue even cracked. Those cargos curved high, hoodie stretched snug across her chest when she leaned, waistline flashing dark skin above the band. She bent like she knew the room was staring—but I knew she knew I was the one losing patience.
Crack. Two dropped. Three wobbled, then held, like it enjoyed teasing. She stood slow, no flash, just intent. And that—more than the curve of her ass, more than the skin—nearly undid me.
“Truth one,” she said, eyes still on the table.
I didn’t do half-truths once I started playing. “I’ve wanted you since before last night.”
Her gaze snapped to me. I let her see I wasn’t pulling that back.
