“I’m cute?” I reply back. I can’t believe this woman is saying I’m cute. The things I could do to her. The things I will do to her. She has no idea. I’m not cute. I’m an animal and I’m going to ravage her.

“Little bit,” she smiles. God damn, her cute little nose. She’s the cute one. She’s fucking beautiful. Jaw-dropping, gorgeous. Perfect figure. An ass and a pair of tits that men would kill each other over. She’s talking to me. I found her first. I can’t believe it.

“Damn, you’re a whole lot of wonderful,” I say, feeling the alcohol start to influence me. “I needed this.”

“Needed what?” she smiles. Her teeth are white. Her eyes are hazel green. Her skin has a slight tan color to it. Perfect. She’s perfect. I want to bend her over against the bar right now. I want to kick everyone out and have her do a little dance for me, while I sit in the back and stroke my…

“I needed to talk to someone beautiful,” I say. “I had a hard night last night.”

“Yeah?” she looks down at my belt and I feel my cock twitch a little. Gotta control myself. Can’t get hard in front of a crowd. Everyone here knows who I am.

I see her glance at my holster and then at my badge, which is tucked inside of it. It shouldn’t be hangin’ out like that, but it is. Fuck it.

“You some kind of a sheriff?” she asks me.

“Somewhat,” I say. Ranks don’t matter. She doesn’t know the ins and outs of the business. Anyway, I’d rather not even talk about what I do for a living. That whole thing is boring. Unfortunately, women tend to focus on it. They love a man in uniform. They love the idea that there are some bad men out there and I can be the one to protect them.

“You lock up the bad guys?” she asks innocently. She makes a fake gun gesture with her hand and shoots at the air, making some noises.

I laugh when she laughs. I want her to keep having a good time. Being a cop is much more than that, though. It’s putting your life on the line. Any place you go, there can be trouble. Shit, there are probably a few people who want me dead in this bar here. I try not to let it get to me.

“Been a cop almost all my life. Even when I was a kid, I was already a cop. It’s in my blood, I guess,” I tell her.

“Was your dad a cop or something?” she asks. She stirs her ice in her glass, letting me know that I need to buy her another drink. I glance at the bartender and point with my head, making a “two” sign with my hand. She continues, “Seems like a scary job to sign up for.”

I laugh again and glance down at her legs. She’s wearing a basic skirt, white, it’s a little short, but I want to see more. I have to see more. I place my hand on her thigh again and try to test fate. She doesn’t fret or say a word. She just lets me. She’s warmer the higher I go, but I stop at a normal respectable place. I don’t want to press too much, too fast.

“It’s a stupid job to sign up for. Most of us, believe it or not, aren’t the smartest people,” I smile. “But I was called to it. I, uh, grew up around some pretty bad people growing up. My pa used to beat up on my sister… Being a cop was a duty I felt I needed to do, despite my well-being.”

It’s the truth. My parents were assholes. No. They were worse. They were low-life drug users who had a knack for knocking my older sister around. Then, they took to beating me, which wasn’t really the whole problem. I could take a beating. I wanted to protect Sarah, but I couldn’t. I wasn’t strong enough. Helpless. That’s the only word that sounds right.

“That’s very noble,” she says, nodding. I look solemn. I know it. I gotta snap out of it.

“Anyway, I’m getting all depressing now. Let’s talk about something nice,” I say.

“Like what?” she asks. She checks her watch. Have I blown it? Is she going to leave me here high and dry?

“Like that smile of yours,” I say. She glances down bashfully. It’s damn cute. “How can I get that smile to go out with me?”

She laughs a little and keeps on smiling. “I don’t know. I…” she trails off, thinking a little. She’s seeing someone. I’ve seen this reaction before. “I sort of have a boyfriend,” she says. Nailed it.

“Is your boyfriend as handsome and charming as me?” I ask her.

“Well, he’s not a cop,” she says. Ouch. “Just joking. He’s kind of a deadbeat.”

I don’t care what he is. I want to feel what it’s like when my lips crush against hers, dragging down her delicate skin, kissing her bellybutton, as she twitches ever-so-slightly, and I finally meet the center of all pleasure. I want to suck on each fold, massaging my tongue against her smoothly. I want to taste her and enjoy her. I want to devour her.

“Good,” I say. “I’m not. Let me take you out. Steak dinner. It’ll be expensive.”

I never put this much effort into a woman. She should feel grateful. Hell, I do. I still can’t believe I found a woman this beautiful in this kind of a shithole. “I might have to take you up on that offer,” she says.

“How about we just skip the dinner and go back to your place?” I find myself saying, feeling pretty good about myself.

She just shakes her head and says, “Nice try,” and she begins to walk away. I call after her and she stops, grabbing in her purse. A real fucking tease, this woman. She smiles and pulls out a pen and a blank card. She writes down a phone number and kisses the front. Her lipstick leaves an impression and I nearly fall from the barstool. “Call me. Maybe I’ll answer. Maybe I won’t,” she says.

“Sure thing,” I say. I’m intrigued, to say the least. If I can solve this bank thing and bag a hot girl, I’ll have won the fucking lottery.