He Had the Devil in His Eye

I perched on the pub stool, sipping my third bourbon, catching snippets of four different conversations around me and gently swaying to the 1970s era rock music that filled the bar. Work stress had cumulated to a beyond-reasonable point and, after a very long day, I decided to stop at this casual watering hole to unwind. The extrovert in me just needed to be around people for a little while. People I didn’t really know… just happy, warm bodies.

And the flirt in me needed to, well… flirt.

I recognized a couple of people from similar, previous evenings and was greeting as an old friend. So I settled in to soak up some some attention. I alternated between harmlessly flirting with men I had no interest in, and serving as several women’s new BFF, listening intently to their current troubles. And that’s how I happened to be surrounded by men and women, some I knew, some I didn’t, when a tall, clean-shaven man in a white button down shirt and gray slacks appeared at my shoulder. He had dark hair with silver at the temples which he wore slicked back. His voice stood apart from the others. It was brash. Abrupt. Northern.

Obviously a crony to the crowd I’d been welcomed to for the evening, he quickly immersed himself in the ongoing chatter. We were briefly introduced and I nodded and smiled, but kept my attention on a woman to my left who had had a rougher day than me. Not long after she called it a night.

The New Englander was still at my shoulder, but listening to the conversations now rather than joining in. I looked up and to my right and our eyes met. And held.

Have you ever had one of those moments where you make eye contact with someone and words simply weren’t necessary? It’s as if everything is just out there. And you both know it. And neither one of you care.

In those seconds when our eyes held I could see everything. I could see him crushing my mouth with his, demanding my lips to open. I knew how rough he would be, leaving bruises on my shoulders, my arms and my breasts. I could feel how he would suck at my nipples while thrusting his fingers in my jeans, moving my panties aside and forcefully bringing me to orgasm.

My eyes widened with the knowledge. And then narrowed. I would give as good as I got.

He saw the shift, the fire in my eyes and the challenge in them and smiled.

“You’re trouble,” he said softly.

“Mmmmhmmm,” I nodded, the corner of my mouth turning up slightly. He hadn’t dodged what had just happened. He accepted my instant awareness of his dominant nature and equally quick, I-dare-you-to-try-to-get-me-be-submissive attitude.

And heaven help me… I wanted him to try.