Page 33 of Reno

I chuckled. “You’re perceptive, too.”

“Why do you act surprised?” She leaned halfway across the table and gave me a shitty look. “Do you think all women are fools?”

“No.”

Her look lingered for a moment before softening. “You sure do act like it.”

“Sorry,” I said. “It’s just. I don’t know. I haven’t spent that much time with women.”

“Well, we’re not a substandard species,” she said with a laugh. “We’re just as able as men, only we’re less apt to brag about our accomplishments.”

She rested her elbow on the back side of her chair and waited for me to respond. Instead of sticking my foot in my mouth, I admired her for a moment.

Her hair was long and brown with highlights in it that I imagined she had done professionally. They were too perfect to be natural. Her skin was golden in color, but not brown, like many of the SoCal natives who spent their waking hours in the sun. She could easily pass for being American. If she claimed she was, no one would argue, that’s for sure.

She was average height and had a smaller than average build, with slightly above average tits that were as perky as any I’d ever seen. I’d have to describe her as petite, but her attitude made her seem much larger.

Her face was where the averages stopped. She had an erotic appearance that was nearly hypnotic.

Looking at her for extended periods caused me to slip from reality.

“What?” she asked.

I blinked. Several times. “Huh?”

“You were doing that staring thing.”

“What staring thing?”

She laughed. “The thing when you stare.”

I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Your mouth was open, and your eyes went glassy.”

“I just kind of zoned out for a minute.”

“I noticed.”

Her top was unbuttoned just enough that I could see a hint of cleavage. I glanced at it, wishing there was more.

She reached for the one button that was undone and buttoned it. “For a guy that’s scared to have sex, you sure spend a lot of time looking at my tits.”

“I’m not scared of sex. And, I glanced at them.”

She scowled jokingly. “Your glances are lengthy.”

“Sorry.”

Her glare softened into a slight smile. “I like you.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re fun,” she said. “I like sitting here talking with you.”

“I like talking to you, too. It’s nice to just, I don’t know, talk. Do you think we can just, you know, do this?”

“Be friends?” she asked.