"Can I get you another?" the perky blonde asks me, her big eyes gleaming with curiosity. The I wonder how big his cock is kind of curiosity. Oh, don’t be mean and think that she’s a slut; women love to wonder about my cock all the time. And I don’t mind, not at all. In fact, I’m pretty much used to it, and if I’m being honest, I love their earnest curiosity. Nothing beats the look of awe in a woman’s face when she sees my twelve inches hard and ready for some love.

"Yeah, sure," I reply casually, pushing my empty glass of whisky across the counter. It’s only my second, but I’m already feeling a slight buzz taking over. Tapping my fingertips on the counter, I look across the room and sigh. Masa is one of the most exclusive restaurants in New York and, as such, the place is completely packed, except for a small table at the end of the dimly lit room. A folded card over the tablecloth proclaims in bold letters that the table is reserved, but its occupants are nowhere to be seen. They were supposed to be here almost half an hour ago, but it looks like they might not be coming after all.

Yeah, I’m talking about Daphne and Lucas. How the fuck do I know that? I can hear you wondering about that. Let’s just say I have my ways. What, not happy with my answer? Alright, fuck it; yeah, I’m spying on Lucas. I’m not a fucking saint and I never pretended to be one. Besides, this is probably one of the major business deals in decades, and I’ll do everything I can to make sure I emerge triumphant from this, just like a true Julius fucking Caesar of the boardroom.

"There you go, sir," the petite blonde bartender says, sliding a glass of Macallan across the counter. She brushes her fingers against mine as I pick up the glass, and I smile as I watch her run her tongue between her lips.

"Thank you," I say, and she flushes in a heartbeat. She turns around to service other customers, and I follow her with my eyes, watching her perfect ass move as she walks toward the other end of the counter. She’s a hot one, I’ll give her that, and if I wasn’t this fucking preoccupied with Lucas and Daphne’s absence I’d be all over her.

Yeah, I’m fucking preoccupied, and that’s exactly why I’m here. I know Lucas and, despite our differences in the way we approach business, I’d be a fool to underestimate him. He might be a penny pincher, but he’s the fucking best penny pincher I’ve ever known. Besides, despite his moralist facade, I know exactly the kind of effect a woman like Daphne has on him. Like I said, I know the kind of man Lucas is.

Thing is, I know that part of the reason I’m fucking worried about the two of them not being here has nothing to do with business. I just don’t feel comfortable with these two going on a fucking date of sorts… As if that wasn’t bad enough, it seems that now they’ve decided to skip dinner. Like, what the fuck are they doing? I got word that Lucas picked her up in one of his limos, so what’s taking them so fucking long? Maybe they changed venues? No … that doesn’t make any fucking sense. It’s almost impossible to get a table at Masa, and I doubt that they’d decide to go somewhere else on a whim.

To make matters worse, there’s a voice inside of me that tells me the real reason they’re not coming. That’s right; they’re fucking right now, no need to sugarcoat it. I can already imagine Daphne moaning as Lucas presses his naked body against her, her pussy wet and eager to have him… I can see them in my mind’s eye, kissing as their hands wander over their bodies, Lucas’ cock buried deep inside of her pussy. I can’t believe that he beat me to the punch.

I exhale sharply and, at the same time, my cock twitches hard inside my pants. Gritting my teeth, I feel my cock hardening as images of Lucas and Daphne keep on dancing behind my eyes, lustful and wild. And my cock keeps on growing.

Jesus fuck, what’s going on with me?

I take a sip of my whisky, letting it burn its way down my throat, and then decide to just down the whole thing at once. I rest the glass against the counter and, before I even have the time to blink, that blonde is there again, taking the empty glass from my hand. With an inviting smile, she refills it, and then pushes it toward me.

"On the house," she says, small dimples showing on her cheeks as she smiles.

"Thanks," I reply, raising the glass and making a faux toast toward her. God bless her; if there’s something I need right now, it’s a fucking glass of whisky and a distraction. "What’s your name?"

"Katherine." She looks back over her shoulder, perhaps wondering if her shift manager is nearby, and then leans against the counter. She puts her forearms together as she leans in, and I notice that she has unbuttoned the first button on her shirt. And let me tell you, I like what I’m fucking seeing here.

"Katherine, I like that name." I let my eyes fall to the round swell of her breasts, and I don’t even try to hide it. She wants me to look, so I’m pretty fucking happy to oblige. That’s me: a perfect gentleman.

"You’re … Ares Strong. Aren’t you?" she whispers, biting down on her lower lip as her words acquire a conspiratorial tone.

"In the flesh," I whisper, imitating her tone and smiling. She flushes even more at my words, and I can see her already imagining what I’m hiding under my clothes. "Nice to meet you," I offer her my hand and she grabs it, her delicate fingers brushing against the palm of my hand. Her face becomes tomato red as she shakes my hand, and I let my fingers linger on hers for a second more than necessary.

"I… I usually don’t do this," she starts, looking from one side to the other as if she was about to confess to a crime. "But my shift will be over in fifteen minutes…" She lets her words hang in the air between us, her proposal a fucking clear one.

I lean back in my seat, smiling as I let my eyes trace her silhouette. Nice perky tits, a round firm ass, and lips that look like they were made to scream out my name… Yeah, we could have some fun. Except we can’t.

Contrary to any other day, I’m not feeling a fucking thing right now. Sure, my brain knows that she’s a hot woman and that she’s more than ready to step into my limo and let me fuck her brains out, but my cock hasn’t caught up with that. I could be looking at a brick wall, for all I know.

"Thanks, but I… I actually have to leave soon," I find myself saying, grabbing my wallet and slapping a few bills down on the counter. Jesus fucking Christ, am I actually doing this? Feeling pretty shitty, I grab a few more bills and place them on top of the others. "Just a tip. Have a good night."

Getting up from my seat, I bolt out of the restaurant as if my pants were on fucking fire. Lucas and Daphne aren’t coming and, hot bartender or not, I have no reason to remain there.

But, seriously… I can’t believe I’ve blown a hot woman off. What the fuck is going on with me?

Fuck, this whole situation is really messing me up.