He was sitting at the back table of a London pub, starring into his drink. She slid unexpectedly into the seat next to him, putting her drink on the table beside his. "Hi Handsome."
He snorted and said. "Not lookin' for company."
She gave him an unreadable look, and then said, "But I am."
They sat in silence for a good while as he continued to study the ice cubes in his drink and she continued to study him.
"Now look little girl…"
"Little girl? I assure you, I am no little girl. I even say 22 on the tin these days."
"And I'm 903."
She laughed. "Well, you wear it remarkably well."
He smiled a wry smile in spite of himself.
"Now that's more like it, Old Man." She bumped her shoulder into his for emphasis.
This time he rewarded her with a grin. She smiled back at him.
"My name's Melody."
"John."
"Nice to meet you John."
Talking with her was surprisingly easy. She had a way of turning even his monosyllabic responses into playful, sexy banter. She was such a wicked, wicked little flirt.
Without consciously realizing it, he found himself studying her appreciatively. She really was a beautiful little human. Her long brown legs were actually a bit distracting. He took them in, from the bottom of her short black skirt to her red high heeled shoes…
He suddenly realized she was watching him watch her. She winked at him. Immediately flustered, he downed his drink and waved a hand for the barmaid. He gestured to his and Melody's drinks, "Two more."
She was flirting again. What was she saying now? He couldn't even follow her words. The sound of her voice was much more intoxicating than the liquor in his glass. He felt as if he looked into her dark eyes he might never escape from them.
What was it about this little human? She was very attractive, with her smooth dark skin and upswept black braids. Gorgeous in fact, but he was not thinking about what it would feel like to run his tongue down her neck and nibble on her collar bone. He was not imagining kissing down to the tops of her pert breasts that peeked from the neckline of her red shirt. Red, the same red as those damn sexy high heels of hers… No; he was, very actively, not thinking about those things. He appreciated a beautiful woman, but he didn't usually react like this!
She touched his hand and, as her skin met his, he felt electricity sparking up his arm. He drew away from her with a deep breath. This was ridiculous. It had not been that long since he touched - was touched by - a female. Had it?
She looked at him and suddenly said, "Well, it's been fun, but I really have to go. Maybe I'll see you around sometime." And with that she was gone.
Damn. He had probably insulted her. He hadn't meant to. He was enjoying their exchange, enjoying it way, way too much as a matter of fact. Not that he would have actually done anything about it. Hmmrph, 22 years old. Not a child. Might as well be. And human at that. Why did he find it so hard to even think around her? It was probably just as well she had left.
Not interested in staying any longer, he pushed his drink aside and headed for the door.