Page 2 of Dirty Martinis

“Believe me, I would give you more time if I could, but I have a motivated buyer and, as I said, I really need the cash,” my landlord explained. “I tried to convince the buyer to take on all the current tenants, but they’re planning to rehab the building and turn it into condos.”

I sighed and rubbed my forehead. “Okay, well will you at least be returning the security deposit?”

“Yes, be sure to leave me a forwarding address and I’ll send it to you within thirty days of move-out, or when the property closes, whichever happens first.”

“Okay, thanks.”

I’m sure the landlord could hear the misery in my voice. “Don’t worry, I’m sure you must have some connections who can help you find a place, right?”

“Oh. Sure. Yeah. Goodbye.”

I put my head on the table and tried not to cry. It wasn’t that I couldn’t find a new place, it was just going to be a big hassle and a huge expense, something that would tax my already meagers savings, and require time off work.

I thought of my landlord’s suggestion that I use my connections. He had no way of knowing that I worked for a billionaire and my sister was married to another billionaire, but even if he did, there was no way I was going to my boss or my brother-in-law for help. I was thirty-five years old, I needed to stand on my own two feet, not go crawling to the people I knew asking for a rescue.

My phone beeped with a message from Mark letting me know he was leaving the office. It was early for him, only five thirty, but ever since he’d run into his high school crush Lainie at their twenty-fifth reunion and fallen in love with her, he’d been keeping more reasonable hours. Now that he and Lainie were married, she expected him home by six o’clock most nights, something that he happily agreed to. He was totally whipped, but Lainie was awesome and she’d been good for him, so I couldn’t fault her at all.

Since most of the office was gone I had two choices: head home and start scouring the rental listings or drown my sorrows. My mother would tell me that wallowing was a waste of time, but sometimes a girl needed a good wallow.

Remembering that a new bar had opened up on the next block last month, I decided to indulge in a dirty martini – or maybe two – before I faced up to the reality of my situation. I’d heard that Sweet Cocktails made strong drinks, and that’s just what I needed.

The bar wasn’t very crowded when I got there. I looked around, noting that it was a classy place with high end furniture, soft lighting, and tasteful framed photos of various cocktails on the wall. It was perfect for this neighborhood, the kind of place where you could meet a blind date, have happy hour with friends after work, or go for a girls’ night with your friends.

I made my way to one corner of the bar, knowing that when you were a woman drinking alone, it was best to stay to the side where you could get the bartender’s attention easily if someone was bothering you. There were several guys in suits sitting alone at the bar or nearby tables, and I had no desire to fend them off tonight, even though I could feel a couple of them checking me out as I walked by.

A tall man was behind the bar, doing something in the cooler. My eyes took in broad shoulders, a narrow waist, and impressive forearms. When he turned around my mouth turned dry. Damn, he was good looking. Maybe I wouldn’t mind being picked up tonight after all. There was nothing like a good hard fuck to release the tension of a stressful day.

The bartender had short dark hair and a well-kept short beard – one of those that were basically a circle of beard and mustache around the mouth, but with a clean-shaven jaw. Did they call that a goatee? Whatever it was called, it was perfect for him. I wasn’t normally a fan of facial hair, but it suited him.

His eyes were dark, his cheekbones sharp, and his nose was the slightest bit crooked. There was something a bit familiar about him, like maybe he’d been an actor, or we’d gone on a blind date or something.

When he gave me a smile, his light brown eyes crinkled in the corners, and I felt a jolt of something…lust, love, who knows? Whatever it was, I had the strangest feeling that I was meant to be here today to meet him.

Michael

“Welcome to Sweet Cocktails, what can I get you?”

The brunette who walked in and sat at the corner of the bar looked classy.

She was wearing an expensive looking dress that hugged her full breasts before draping over her slim waist and narrow hips. The skirt stopped a couple of inches above her knee, revealing muscular legs made longer by the ridiculously high heeled shoes she wore. She had thick, dark brown hair that cascaded down past her shoulders in soft waves, pale skin, huge brown eyes, and blood red lips that matched her tastefully short, manicured fingernails.

She was stunningly beautiful. She also looked vaguely familiar.

“I’d like a dirty martini, please.”

She had a throaty voice that made my cock twitch in interest.

“Vodka or gin?” I asked, impressed that she wasn’t ordering a fruity drink or a glass of wine like most of the women who came in here.

“Vodka, Grey Goose, five olives. And I’ll take it on the rocks, please.”

I raised my eyebrows. This woman knew her martinis. “Coming right up.”

I poured her a glass of water and slid it over to her before starting on her drink. As a rule, I gave everyone water with their beverages. The bar was relatively quiet right now, giving me the opportunity to study her covertly while I poured the ingredients into the metal shaker and gave it a few shakes to chill the liquid inside.

“Here you go,” I said, setting her drink on a coaster.

She picked it up immediately, taking a healthy sip. Her eyes closed in pleasure, making my throat dry. I reached for a glass of water for myself.