I walk into the bar and after my eyes adjust to the dim lighting, it only takes a quick sweep of the room to decide who my Stranger is going to be.

He's sitting at the bar with a neat brown drink. Maybe bourbon? Scotch? His hair and eyes are the exact color of his drink and heartbreak is written all over his face and slumped shoulders. Even from a distance, it's perfectly clear he's here to drink away his sorrows.

It certainly doesn’t hurt that he’s also gorgeous.

Obviously, he could use company and someone to take his mind off his troubles for the night. I finish looking around the bar until I find Scott. He's in the booth by the door, watching me with dark, shadowed eyes. It's going to be weird doing this with him watching the whole time. I try to get a read on his expression, but the bar is too dim. He's here, but that doesn't mean he isn't still pissed. I'm not sure if I'm still pissed or not either. I refuse to let him or his attitude ruin my fun.

I smooth down my tight black dress, and take a deep breath. I've thought through the plan. It's good. Scott will get his picture on the off chance he's a serial killer. But based on his deep sadness, the only thing I have to fear is if he'll be interested.

I slide onto the stool next to him, making sure my bare thigh "accidentally" glides against him. My dress hikes up showcasing my long legs.

The bartender comes over and smiles at me, dimples appearing on his cheeks. "What can I get for you, doll?" He's cute, but I'm looking for something a little different tonight.

"One of those looks good." I nod to the stranger's drink, but make sure I don't actually look at him. In fact, I pointedly ignore him.

The bartender nods and pours me a glass.

"Thanks."

I continue pretending the stranger doesn't exist until he clinks his glass against mine. "Same, huh?"

Then, and only then, do I turn to him. "Let's play a game. Let's be liars." I raise a brow in challenge.

He grins, and I see a glimpse of how he must have been happy once. "Game on."

"You go first." I look down at his hand cupping his drink. He has long, strong fingers. Fingers that I imagine dipping inside me, caressing me.

"All right. What's your name?" He adjusts his position on the stool, pressing his leg closer against mine. I can feel the steel muscles hidden by his pants. The fabric is scratchy and rough against my skin.

I shiver and search my brain for a fake name. "I'm Katie. You?" I could drown in his bourbon eyes.

He smiles knowingly, his sadness starting to fall away. "I'm Isaac. What do you do for a living?"

Leaning over to give him a nice view of my breasts, I choose the last thing I would ever want to be. "I'm a librarian." That would be my nightmare job.

He doesn't move his gaze from my cleavage as he says, "I'm an artist."

My mouth falls open a bit, forgetting for a moment that we're lying. He's good at this game. Almost too good.

He leans close. "You might want to close that gorgeous mouth of yours so I'm not tempted to put something in it."

I muffle a groan at his words, looking up at him through my lashes. I shoot a glance down at his lap and see the evidence of the effect this is having on him. It makes me feel better at the state of my drenched thong.

I wonder what he really does for a living. He has on a pair of nice black slacks and a deep plum button-up shirt. He has just a hint of facial hair and bourbon-colored hair clipped neat and short. With his soulful eyes, I could see him being an artist, but since we're lying, obviously it's something else. I chose librarian because it's the farthest thing from what I'd choose to do. Maybe he's a banker or accountant. Or something completely surprising like a forest ranger?

Forest rangers are hot.

We continue to banter, all lies. It's weird getting to "know" a person who's made up, but fun too because I get to be someone new as well. I like being a librarian named Katie. Our little "accidental" touches growl bolder and I grow hornier with each moment, with each sip, with each graze of skin. I've never done this type of foreplay before. I'm surprised at how much I enjoy it. I'm surprised at how wet and squirmy it makes me. I hope I'm not leaving a wet mark on the stool, evidence of my desire.

Once the ice breaks from the usual questions, we move deeper. "What's the best trip you've ever been on?" I ask.

He drains his drink before answering, gesturing at the bartender for a refill for both of us. "Prague. I got to explore the city and paint all day for a week. It was lovely." There's a sad, wistful note in his voice.

Maybe there was a little truth in his answer. It would be the best trip he can imagine, perhaps. Or maybe it somehow reminds him of whoever broke his heart. Maybe they planned to make that trip together. I can totally understand the loss you feel when your plans for the future fall into shards around you. Adam had left me with that confusion and frustration and sadness.

This gorgeous man just needs the same thing I've found. A little bit of fun with no strings. Rebound sex is way better than a doomed rebound relationship.

He shakes it off and smiles. "What would you want to do if you had the day off tomorrow?" He runs a finger over the back of my hand. All the tiny hairs stand to attention in response.

Probably watch Netflix in my pajamas, but that's not sexy or cool. Or like tonight, I'd be checking off the next item on my fuckit list. Some new sexual adventure. "I'd drive into the mountains and go hiking, watch the sunrise from the top of a mountain. You?"

He licks a stray drop of bourbon from his lips and I unconsciously lean towards him, wanting just a taste. His lips curl into a smirk. "Careful, gorgeous. If you get closer, I won't be able to stop with just a taste of you."

I blink and catch my bottom lip with my teeth. He groans softly and curses under his breath. "Right. Where were we? Ah yes. If I had the day off tomorrow, I would want to spend the day licking and nibbling every centimeter of your body."

It takes everything within me not to drag him from the bar and fuck him in the alley outside. My voice is hoarse as I ask, "What's your favorite place in the world?"

I half expect him to answer his favorite place is between a woman's legs or something, but he cuts me a break. "Lake Michigan." He's barely able to hide his smile and I'm barely able to hide my laughter. He didn't even try with that one.

I decide to give him a little taste of his own medicine. "My favorite place in the world is on my knees with a big cock in my mouth." Not quite the truth, but closer to it than I should have allowed. I actually prefer to be on my hands and knees with a cock in my pussy. But only by a little. And I'm pretty sure his day off answer wasn't exactly a lie either.

He leans in to whisper in my ear. "I'm tempted to take you to your favorite place right here, right now." His breath tickles and warms my neck, I slide my eyes closed and attempt to calm myself.

The thought doesn't scare me, instead it thrills me. Imagining everyone looking on while I sucked his dick. Imagining Scott looking on. I remember how hot it had been jerking him off in the crowded restaurant where we could get caught at any time.

"Before we both explode, let's get back on track. Who was your favorite schoolteacher or college professor?"

I almost choke on my drink, my face goes up in flames. "Um. Mrs. Marsh. She was my second grade teacher, and she was the one who inspired my love of books." Mrs. Marsh was actually real. But she hadn't been my teacher, she'd been Scott's. And he'd despised her. I squirm as I imagine telling the stranger about my real favorite professor. The one who spanked and fucked me over his desk. One who I still thought about visiting again.

After a couple hours and a bunch of what turned out to be Kentucky Bourbon and even more innuendos that grew hotter each time, I put my hand high on his leg. His muscles flex beneath my hand. "Truth. The only one I'll give you. I'd like to go back to your place."