table. “I’m gonna buy you some drinks even though you treated me like shit. I think you need them more than me.”
He walked out of the bar before she could say anything or give the money back.
Echo felt bad for about five seconds.
He had called her a fucking dyke, after all. Not that there was anything wrong with being a dyke, but it had been meant as an insult and that was just plain rude.
A server belatedly swung by to take her order. She was a slender woman in her late thirties with hard features arranged in an unpleasant expression. Echo couldn’t decide whether the woman was pissed at her for the way she had treated the fat man or if she always looked like she was mad at the world. Either way, the last thing she wanted at the moment was some bitter old skank of a waitress spitting in her drink.
So she summoned her sweetest smile and said, “I’ll have a shot of tequila and a tall glass of beer.”
While she waited for the drinks to arrive, she opened her bag and removed her phone, which she had switched to silent mode before heading out to Ella’s house. A glance at the screen showed a half-dozen missed calls received within the last twenty minutes. They were all from Casey. There were also some voicemails. She didn’t need to listen to them to know they were all Casey pleading with her to call him back.
Not happening, douchebag.
While she was staring at the screen, someone pulled a chair out and sat directly across from her. She initially suspected the fat man had returned for more abuse, so she couldn’t have been more surprised when she glanced up and saw the blonde bombshell on the other side of the table.
“Um…”
The word statuesque had been coined specifically to describe women like this magnificent creature. She was maybe just two inches shy of six feet tall and was blessed with the most astonishing curves Echo had ever seen. Though she was seated, the chair was well away from the table and she was sitting sideways in it, with her long and shapely sun-bronzed legs crossed and her slender arms folded beneath her majestic breasts. She looked like something out of a comic book, like some adolescent boy’s idealized fantasy of the perfect female. Also, while many of the girls she worked with at the club were profusely inked, few of them were as lavishly illustrated as this woman. The work was all top-notch and bursting with fine detail. It belatedly occurred to Echo that the pose the woman had struck was deliberate. She was purposely displaying her body in the most provocative manner possible.
“Can I pick that up for you?”
Echo shook her head in confusion. “Pick up what?”
The blonde goddess laughed. “Your jaw. It looked like it dropped all the way to the floor.”
Echo closed her mouth, suddenly self-conscious. No other person, male or female, had ever rendered her temporarily stupid by merely utilizing their looks. Hell, it was usually her on the other side of this equation. She felt befuddled and slow-witted, her mind adrift in a mental fog. She didn’t care for the feeling at all, but she figured she now had a better appreciation for how all the tongue-tied trolls who’d ever hit on her must have felt when she shot them down.
The server returned and set Echo’s drinks in front of her. She then began to move away from the table. The goddess stopped her in her tracks by seizing one of her thin wrists. “What about me, beautiful? I’m thirsty too.”
The server glanced down at the goddess for the briefest of instants before nervously averting her gaze. Echo realized with some astonishment that the hard-faced old waitress was blushing. She still knew next to nothing about this gorgeous stranger, but already her admiration for the woman was off the charts. She possessed a magnetic quality unrivaled in Echo’s experience. The server scurried off after another brief exchange of words. The words didn’t register for Echo because she was again too entranced by the blonde
He walked out of the bar before she could say anything or give the money back.
Echo felt bad for about five seconds.
He had called her a fucking dyke, after all. Not that there was anything wrong with being a dyke, but it had been meant as an insult and that was just plain rude.
A server belatedly swung by to take her order. She was a slender woman in her late thirties with hard features arranged in an unpleasant expression. Echo couldn’t decide whether the woman was pissed at her for the way she had treated the fat man or if she always looked like she was mad at the world. Either way, the last thing she wanted at the moment was some bitter old skank of a waitress spitting in her drink.
So she summoned her sweetest smile and said, “I’ll have a shot of tequila and a tall glass of beer.”
While she waited for the drinks to arrive, she opened her bag and removed her phone, which she had switched to silent mode before heading out to Ella’s house. A glance at the screen showed a half-dozen missed calls received within the last twenty minutes. They were all from Casey. There were also some voicemails. She didn’t need to listen to them to know they were all Casey pleading with her to call him back.
Not happening, douchebag.
While she was staring at the screen, someone pulled a chair out and sat directly across from her. She initially suspected the fat man had returned for more abuse, so she couldn’t have been more surprised when she glanced up and saw the blonde bombshell on the other side of the table.
“Um…”
The word statuesque had been coined specifically to describe women like this magnificent creature. She was maybe just two inches shy of six feet tall and was blessed with the most astonishing curves Echo had ever seen. Though she was seated, the chair was well away from the table and she was sitting sideways in it, with her long and shapely sun-bronzed legs crossed and her slender arms folded beneath her majestic breasts. She looked like something out of a comic book, like some adolescent boy’s idealized fantasy of the perfect female. Also, while many of the girls she worked with at the club were profusely inked, few of them were as lavishly illustrated as this woman. The work was all top-notch and bursting with fine detail. It belatedly occurred to Echo that the pose the woman had struck was deliberate. She was purposely displaying her body in the most provocative manner possible.
“Can I pick that up for you?”
Echo shook her head in confusion. “Pick up what?”
The blonde goddess laughed. “Your jaw. It looked like it dropped all the way to the floor.”
Echo closed her mouth, suddenly self-conscious. No other person, male or female, had ever rendered her temporarily stupid by merely utilizing their looks. Hell, it was usually her on the other side of this equation. She felt befuddled and slow-witted, her mind adrift in a mental fog. She didn’t care for the feeling at all, but she figured she now had a better appreciation for how all the tongue-tied trolls who’d ever hit on her must have felt when she shot them down.
The server returned and set Echo’s drinks in front of her. She then began to move away from the table. The goddess stopped her in her tracks by seizing one of her thin wrists. “What about me, beautiful? I’m thirsty too.”
The server glanced down at the goddess for the briefest of instants before nervously averting her gaze. Echo realized with some astonishment that the hard-faced old waitress was blushing. She still knew next to nothing about this gorgeous stranger, but already her admiration for the woman was off the charts. She possessed a magnetic quality unrivaled in Echo’s experience. The server scurried off after another brief exchange of words. The words didn’t register for Echo because she was again too entranced by the blonde
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