Probably in that order. But maybe not.
* * *
The new place was only a few miles outside the city limits of Petersburg. As the RideIt driver—who’d been a chatty older man, a retired NCO eager to talk shop with two guys still in the service—pulled away, I surveyed the outside of the bar. It was neat and clean, a white-painted building with a single neon sign over the door. I could hear the music even from the parking lot.
Owen grinned at me. He was a little shorter than I was, with hair a few shades darker than my own, but over the ten years we’d been best friends, people had been confusing us for brothers on a regular basis. It had become a running joke between us, because neither of us saw the resemblance.
“Sounds like our kind of place, brother.” He knocked his shoulder against mine. “How’re we going to divide them up tonight?”
“I’ll take the blondes and the red-heads, and you can have the brunettes.” I winked at him.
“Shit, man. That kind of logic presupposes that all the women in this bar have their natural hair color.” He shook his head in mock dismay.
“I think in this case we might have to trust them until we can prove otherwise.” I opened the door. “After you. And may the best man get the luckiest ... at getting a chance to prove otherwise.”
It was dark inside, of course, but my eyes adjusted quickly. Owen and I threaded our way through the crowd and approached the bar, where we both ordered beers. I leaned my back against an empty stool, scanning the tables and dance floor.
It was a good mix of people, with a large percentage of the guys clearly from Fort Lee. The fact that we were outside of Petersburg meant fewer local men, and that was probably a good thing; sometimes the tensions between those who lived in town and those here temporarily with the Army made things a little difficult. But tonight, everything felt laid-back and relaxed.
And the range of women who were in the place was truly a sight to behold. There were tables full of girls who seemed to be just above drinking age, all of them dressed up and made up, casting furtive glances at the groups of men gawking at them. There were also several tables of older women who didn’t seem to care whether or not any of the guys even noticed them. I had a hunch most of those were married ladies, out to enjoy a rare night of freedom.
But the ones who caught my eye were the ones in between, who congregated around the bar and shimmied on the dance floor. They weren’t the shining-eyed girls looking for happily-ever-after or the been-there, done-that jaded ladies. They were young, independent women who were looking for the same thing I was—a night of fun, passion and no strings attached.
Owen finished his first beer, snagged a second and lifted it to me, leaning closer as he nodded to our right. “I’m on brunettes, right? Check out the party girl at six o’clock.”
I glanced over, trying to keep it light and surreptitious, raising my eyebrows when I saw who he’d been eyeballing. Damn, he’d called dibs on a live one. She was all curves and softness, with long, fat black curls that hung down her back. Owen had a thing for long hair, and this chick definitely fit the bill.
“Nice.” I cocked my head. “But none of her friends are my type. You go ahead, and I’ll keep my eyes open.”
“Wish me luck.” He held up his bottle and clinked it against the neck of my beer.
“Not that you’ll need it.” I laughed, finishing our normal schtick. “Go get ‘em, tiger.”
I stood there a little longer, watching my friend’s progress without being too creepy about it. I’d noticed the girl’s eyes light up when she’d seen Owen heading her way, and now they were deep in flirtation. She had one of her curls wrapped around her finger, and her head was tilted as she blinked up at him. He had an arm braced on the bar behind her as he leaned in to say something in her ear that made her cheeks go bright red.
“And we have achieved lift-off, folks,” I murmured to myself. With a sigh, I shifted a little, sitting down on the stool I’d been leaning against and checking out the other side of the bar. I enjoyed watching people interact, letting my eyes wander over the lithesome female bodies. Even if not all of them appealed to me—or at least, not enough to make me get up and walk over there to make my interest known—I could appreciate the way they moved, the way their hair swished ... yeah. I guessed it was the same as the way some people could enjoy a Picasso or a Rembrandt, even if they weren’t about to go up and plant a big old wet kiss on a painting.
And then I saw her.
She was standing on the edge of the dance floor next to another girl, but I didn’t pay any attention to her friend. All I could see was the woman in the short black dress; her shoulder length hair was medium blonde, with streaks of red in it, which meant she was fair pickings for me. Her body was ... well, fuck, it was perfection. Her ass was round, accented by the silky material of the dress, although I had a feeling that if she bent over, it might not cover all of that tempting bottom. She’d turned to the side, and her tits were amazing, too—by the way they moved under the low-cut neckline, I was fairly sure she wasn’t wearing a bra, which meant that jiggle was all her, with no help from any padding or push-up.
But honestly, it was the eyes that got me. They were huge, taking up most of her face, and bright green as I could see when she leaned over to speak to her friend. She was alive and sparkling, and fuck me if I didn’t spring a boner right there. I fidgeted on the barstool, trying to adjust myself without looking like that was what I was doing.
I was just about to get to my feet and make my way over toward her when the music changed, and all of the women in the room ooohed in unison. Yeah, I got it. It was P!nk, which meant epic chick song. Woman power and all that. But it also meant that the woman I was currently watching joined the rest of them thronging onto the dance floor. In a split second, I lost her.
Dancing—well, this kind of dancing—wasn’t really my thing, but when it was in the support of a good cause—for example, getting laid—I could get jiggy with the best of them. So I polished off the rest of my beer, set the empty on the bar and began to meander toward the center of the room, where most of the females had congregated to shake, rattle and roll.
I got sucked into the rhythm of the gyrating bodies, and more than one set of hands reached out to try to slow me down and draw me in. But I was searching for just one enticing ass, and I wasn’t willing to settle for what was convenient. Not when I knew that perfection was somewhere in here ...
Aha! I spotted her head a few feet away and gently pushed my way in that direction. She had her arms in the air as she danced, singing along and making goofy faces at her girlfriend, who was doing the same thing across from her. Just before I reached them, a long-haired hipster came up behind the friend, and I slowed, watching the interchange as he made his move on her. The other girl appeared to be open to whatever he was suggesting, which I realized must have been leaving the floor to grab a drink, when she gave the universal gesture for drinking.
As the two melted away, I took my chance, coming up behind the blonde until I was close enough that her very fine ass was nearly rubbing my dick. Nearly, but not quite. Not wanting to touch her before I asked permission—this time, anyway—I bent my head to murmur into her ear.
“Hey.”
She startled, but not as much as I might have thought. Her face turned toward me, taking me in and checking me out, and I made a point of keeping my gaze steady on her eyes, not looking any lower, even though the temptation was pretty damn huge. I could tell when she’d decided to give me a chance.
“Want to dance?” I spoke low, near the side of her face.
