“Hmm . . . interesting observation,” I mutter, distracted.
Get on with it.
“What relaxes you at home? What’s your favorite thing to do?” he asks.
“Sex,” I reply without hesitation.
He laughs out loud. “Well, you came to the right place.” He holds his arm out to the crowd. “This is the sex capital of the world.” He looks me up and down. “Good-looking guy like you . . . you must pull the pussy.”
And then some.
“It’s not my looks that get me laid,” I reply.
“Bullshit.”
“I’m serious. The ugliest guy in the world can be attractive if he knows how to be.”
“How?”
I widen my eyes. “Deodorant.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he huffs.
“All right.” I smirk. “I’m sure your right hand feels just like big fuckable lips. You do you.”
He looks at me deadpan, and I raise my eyebrow in jest.
“Get fucked.” He sighs.
“I will be.” I chuckle as I look around. Now . . . who will it be?
The Aussie guy comes back from the bar with a tray of shots of tequila. “Jackpot.” He laughs. “Bulla is working behind the bar.”
“Bulla?” I frown. “What’s a bulla?”
“It’s a girl who likes my dick. She gives me free drinks all night.”
Dreadlocks guy laughs. “I like your dick, too, if it gets us drunk.” He picks up a shot and holds it in the air. We all take one and raise them to his. “To new friends.” He smiles.
“And deodorant,” I add.
Aussie guy spits his drink out as he laughs. “I’ll drink to that,” he splutters.
“You think I stink too?” Dreadlocks guy gasps, completely shocked.
“Real bad,” he mutters.
“What’s your names again?” I ask.
“I’m Bodie,” the Aussie guy says. He has sandy-blond hair and is tall and sinewy.
“Hey, has anyone ever told you that you sound like Chris Hemsworth?” I ask him.
“It’s the accent.” He shrugs. “Wish I had the prick’s money.”
“And wife,” I add. “She’s fucking hot.”
“I’m Basil,” dreadlocks guy replies.
“Basil?” I frown.
“That’s right.” He spits, all defensive. “You got a problem with my name?”
“Calm down.” Bodie laughs. “It is an unusual name, that’s all.”
I take another tequila from the tray and chug it down. Basil is right: I just need to get on with it. Tonight, I’ll get laid . . . and then tomorrow I’ll be relaxed and start afresh.
I look around at the crowded bar. Who will it be?
Four hours later
Teeth graze my ear. “Let’s get out of here,” she whispers in the darkness of the corner. “Back to my place.”
She has a place. I won’t need to sleep in that hellhole.
Now we’re talking.
I slide my hand down over her behind and pull her closer to my hardened cock.