A few months passed.
I barely thought about him and that night. My life was full, very busy, and I had plenty to keep myself occupied.
A friend of mine was having a birthday party at a local hotel, a really nice one, and she was extremely wealthy so I knew it would be a party I didn't want to miss. I dressed carefully - sexy lingerie underneath - just in case. White blouse, with just enough buttons undone to make a statement. Tight black skirt, very slim, just short enough to matter. Black thigh highs. Tall, black heels. My long mahogany hair down in loose, soft waves.
I looked fucking hot. I was confident that I wouldn't be leaving the party alone.
I walked into the hotel, aware of eyes on me here and there. The main bar of the hotel was a part of the hotel lobby, not a separate room, so I had to walk past it, almost through it, to get to the ballroom where the party was located. As I walked past the bar, I heard someone call my name, and I turned to see who it was.
A man in a dark suit was walking towards me, through the bar. I couldn't tell who it was until he was almost upon me, and then he grabbed me in a tight hug, wrapping his arms completely around me.
It was him.
It was a great hug, really good. You know how some people are bad huggers, the uncomfortable hug where they barely touch you and lean their head away? And then there are the good hugs, warm arms tightly around you, hand rubbing up and down your back, very comforting.
He was an excellent hugger.
Finally, he pulled away and looked at me, still holding onto my arms, rubbing slowly up and down, a big grin on his face.
"Well, hello pretty lady!" he exclaimed.
That excessive charm just did me in, the gentleman act, the sweet, sweet lilt to his voice. I should have rolled my eyes, but I did just the opposite. It slayed me, and I laughed and blushed furiously.
He was wearing my favorite combination of clothes on a man. Black suit, black shirt, no tie, open at the neck. He looked fucking hot.
"How are you?" I asked. I mean, I really didn't know him that well, having only met him that one time with my daughter. It wasn't like we were friends, or even acquaintances. But he greeted me like we had known each other for years. It was sweet, actually. So many people I met quickly forgot my name, and we had to be reintroduced repeatedly. I always felt that it was rude, that it meant you didn't care enough to remember.
But he remembered.
"I am fantastic," he said enthusiastically. He took my hand in his and gave a little half-turn, switching my hand behind his back, and he pulled me towards the bar, to an open stool next to his. He held my hand until I was safely seated, and then he got comfortable. He called the bartender over, and asked me what I wanted to drink.
"I have a party..." I started, motioning with my head to the room just down the hall, but he touched my hand and looking in my eyes.
"Just have a drink with me. One drink. Please."
That "please" did me in, so I caved.
Just having a drink in a bar with her new gay friend, nothing to look at here folks...
But it's coming. I promise it's coming.
All things "Twilight" belong to Stephanie Meyer. The remainder of the perversion is all mine. :)
