After working a double shift at the neighborhood pub, only the bartender and I remained.

Ben and I had been dancing around on another for a while, always flirting but never taking it further. That was about to change.

When Ben offered to mix me a drink to sustain me during cleanup, I gratefully accepted. His hand brushed against my side as he reached for a bottle of sour-apple martini mixer, sending a shower of sparks over my skin.

Looking at Ben, I could tell he felt it, too. He turned and walked toward me, backing me up until I bumped against the bar.

With his lips close to mine, Ben reached behind me and placed the bottle on the bar. He was so close that his pelvis brushed against my belly, alerting me to a thick bulge tenting the front of his pants. Then he placed his other hand on the... Read More