1680 Words7 Pages
“Joe!” The cute bartender, complete with patented Aussie navy blue singlet and dusted blue jeans over a sculpted gay body turnes and smiles when he sees me. Ahhhh - I’m home. “Connie. You’re early lovey.” His face falls. “Tough day?” “Let’s just say I had another domestic with my wallet.” “Well, a bar is the best place for anyone who’s low on cash.” He grins and I feel understood and safe. “What’ll it be? A beer or a wine?” “I’m gonna need red wine for this dilemma.” “House special coming up, babe. How about I give you the happy hour price before happy hour? That’ll put a smile on your wallet.” I give him my cutest “I-love-that-there’s-no-sexual-tension-cause-you’re-gay” smile and slam my fiver on the counter. For my pain I receive a hefty glass that’s probably over full and a buck fifty change. Gotta love your local. It’s while I’m sitting there, that it happens to me. I’m reading my book and it’s great, but I have the weirdest sensation someone is watching me. Yet, it’s more than that. It’s a feeling I recognize, as if I’ve always known it or partly known it, or something. It’s a tingling in the lower spine that spreads around my pelvis. It makes my heart race and a warm flush spread over my skin. Strangely I feel like I am in a warm ocean being tossed by giant waves. I look up from my book, and he's there. I look directly into the eyes of the most handsome man I have ever seen. He’s sitting at a table just a couple of meters away. He has what looks like a whiskey neat in front of him, and he’s lounging back from the table, legs stretched out, elbows resting on the arms of the chair, with an unselfconscious elegance that takes my breath away. His hands hold an electronic devise, but right now, he's staring at me with what l... ... middle of paper ... ...ut instead I just say “My friends call me Connie.” I pull my hand away but I can’t help notice he has left his there, the lingering touch of his long fingers caressing my skin as I pull away. My body is on fire, that stupid little electricity thingy that must have come from the loop carpet (though I’ve never known it to travel through rubber sneakers before) combined with the casual stare of his eyes and that mouth I don’t dare look at, have set my body to jelly and I am officially putty in his hands. My cautionary brain warnings appear to have burst into flame and disintegrated. “Well Connie, I don’t mean to have kept you from your book. I’ll order your wine. Thank you for bringing me so much luck this afternoon. I hope you enjoy your small gift of thanks.” And with that he turns away and strides toward the end of the bar where he and the elusive Joe start to talk.

More about Spellbound

Open Document