He'd been striking out all night. It was as if the female population of New York had suddenly decided that he was not the best thing since sliced bread, and some of his best lines had failed spectacularly. He'd been considering going to a club, but he wasn't sure he could be bothered if he was just going to get more vodka and cranberry in his face. As it was, he'd been just walking when he spotted her. Short skirt, dark hair. Looking a little forlorn, leaning on the railing. He wondered if she was thinking about jumping. He felt he should tell her not to, because the Hudson wasn't pretty. He started to walk towards her, and then saw her face. She wasn't thinking about jumping, at least not yet. For one thing, she had a cigarette going, and no smoker would waste one by jumping into the river. Secondly, he was going to talk to her, and no-one had ever jumped into a river talking to him. He quickly scrolled through all the possible opening lines, and then mentally kicked himself as he started with a Texan accent. He even used the word mighty. He inwardly shuddered. But she seemed to smile, and answered. He knew she wasn't what he'd just asked her if she was, but in his wide and vast experience, how women answered a question like that was a sure fire way of finding out how his chances were. And she flirted back. Inside he was grinning. Finally, someone was on the hook. It had taken far too long tonight. He allowed a small smile to ghost across his face as he asked her about fees. He suggested dinner, because it seemed like the way to go. She seemed like a girl who would order oysters, and talk about her sleazy ex boyfriends. She seemed like the kind of girl who would ask sincere questions about his family, while running her foot high enough up his leg to count the change in his pocket. Not that he kept change in his pocket. That went in his wallet, which lived in his suit jacket. Because he was thinking all this he was surprised when she cut him off. When she told him she wanted to be bad, he realised she was definitely his kind of girl. Sexy, cute, and did most of the legwork. He forced himself to remain nonchalant as he asked precisely how bad she wanted to be, and when she kissed him, he pretended to be surprised, but savoured the taste of her lip balm. It had to be lip balm because it wasn't sticky.
