To The Rescue

... By Hathor

She was nursing a broken heart. Again. A girl’s childhood sweetheart isn’t supposed to break her heart – at least not twice in one lifetime. She was sitting by the window in a small, dark bar, nursing her fourth or maybe fifth glass of wine; she’d lost track. She just knew it wasn’t helping. She was getting tired of the stares she was getting from people; like they’d never seen a 34-year old woman leak tears from eyes so deep a blue they put the Texas sky to shame.

With a sigh, she dug her sunglasses out of her purse and put them on. Better they all think that she thinks she’s a Somebody than endure their pity any longer. The tinted lenses made everything darker, which suited her mood just fine. With a “Fuck it,” she downed the rest of her wine and signaled for another. She stared out the window sightlessly, waiting for her glass of the grape.

“Here you go,” an unnervingly familiar male voice said next to her. It was smooth as Kentucky bourbon. What the hell? Up until now, her server was a woman.

She answered him without turning around, saying, “Thanks,” not wanting to engage in conversation with anyone. She just wanted to be left alone.

“May I join you, darlin’?” the voice asked.

Just about the last thing she wanted was to be picked up at this bar. With an impatient sigh and a stinging retort on the tip of her tongue, she turned, ripping off her sunglasses. “Look, pal, I don’t need --”

Whatever words she was going to say dried up as she saw who was talking to her. “Holy hell,” she said on a whisper. Maybe getting picked up in a bar wasn’t such a bad thing after all.

He just chuckled at her. “My ego will take that as a yes,” he said, and plopped down in the chair across from her. He leaned his chin on a strong hand, bracing his arm on the table and gazing into her face. “Beautiful, you shouldn’t be sitting here all alone, not to mention all alone and crying.”

Richie had been watching her from the other side of the bar, where he deciding whether or not to play a few songs on the makeshift stage set up back there. The owner of the place was a good friend, and when Richie was in town, he’d stop in for a few beers and to unwind a little. Tonight, he noticed this beautiful creature come in and proceed to try to drown herself in a very nice wine. He didn’t realize she’d been crying, though.

He sighed. He couldn’t help himself; he had to go talk to her. Everyone knew he was a sucker for a pretty woman, but this particular pretty woman in distress spoke to him somehow. He just wanted to wrap himself around her and hold her until she smiled. Then he wanted to do other things to her.

“Yeah, well,” she said, not sure where she was going with her statement. She had been unable to tear her gaze away from those soft brown eyes and tousled brown hair. He was dressed in black, his jeans and long-sleeved tee fitting him like a second skin. For lack of something else to do she picked up her glass and drank greedily from it.

“I don’t usually drive women to drink,” he said with a smile.

“Where do you usually drive them to?” she asked before she could stop herself.

“Anyplace they wanna go,” he said with a leer. “Now, darlin’, tell me what’s set those gorgeous blue eyes to leakin’?”

She shook her head. “Nothing you wanna hear about.”

“Try me,” he said. So, she told him the abridged version of her tale, all the while watching his face for signs of the pity she’d come to despise. She saw none. Their conversation turned to other things and she soon found herself laughing at his stories and genuinely enjoying herself. When Richie smiled at her, she thought her heart was going to stop. “Darlin’,” he said, his eyes scanning her face, “That’s the way you should be looking. You’ve got a beautiful smile.”

She blushed and whispered, “thank you,” all too aware of the way he was looking at her. She looked down at her now empty glass and twisted its stem in her fingers. Richie reached across to still her hands, and the warm soft feel of them nearly made her sigh. She looked up at him again, and saw interest flickering behind those chocolate pools. He sharpened his gaze on her and she felt a flood of heat rush through her.

Without breaking eye contact, and without releasing her hands, Richie slowly slid his chair next to hers. He leaned in and kissed her gently, testing the waters. He didn’t want to take advantage of this woman, but he had to know how the wine she was drinking tasted on her lips. It tasted like pure heaven. When he pulled back, he saw a little fear in her eyes, and a whole lot of heat. The fear made him stop cold. “Just wanted to see if you tasted as good as you looked, darlin’.” He said.

“Holly,” she said back, her voice a whisper. “My name is Holly.”

“Well, Holly, dariln’, you sure do taste as good as you look. Better, in fact.”

Holly couldn’t stop herself; she leaned in to him for another kiss. This time, she closed her eyes and tilted her head just a little in invitation, and Richie lightly stroked her lip with his tongue. She sighed into his mouth, and opened for him. He cupped the back of her head and gently wound his tongue around hers. Holly braced one hand on Richie’s strong chest, and the other he was still holding captive on the table. She broke the kiss and leaned back a little. “So do you,” she said, making him chuckle.

He looked at her with a question in his eyes. Holly gave him a small nod, and the two got up from the table. Her eyes widened as she scanned Richie from head to toe and saw his very large, very obvious reaction to her kiss. When she made to leave money on the table, Richie stopped her. “It’s all taken care of. Where would you like me to drive you to?” he said, with a twinkle in his eye.

Holly tiptoed to whisper in Richie’s ear. “Distraction,” she said, darting her tongue inside and making him shiver a little.

Oh yeah.