Chapter 3 A Good One Night Stand

IRIS'S POV: “I need at least five more glasses pleasee.” I dragged out with a weak smile on my face and what anyone would describe as tipsy but I knew I wasn't. I adjusted myself on the stool I was seated on, taking the last drop of tequila in the shot glass. At this point, I want a whole bottle. After leaving the hotel embracing the looks of pity and amusement on the people's faces, and the flashing of camera's from guests devices, I hailed a taxi and requested to be driven to the best bar paparazzi free bar in the entire city and the driver duly obliged, looking at me with an emotion I couldn't read nor cared enough to through the rearview mirror. I was now seated in a cozy bar, after tipping the driver handsomely, which seemed so private and secluded as I wanted, but yet luxurious and aesthetically pleasing. An artist was singing and a group of others were playing a soft song, singing from her heart an heartbreak song almost made me break down crying yet again. But I was surrounded with various types of alcohol, so I was good. “Here you go.” The bartender served me more and I clapped my hands together in delight and took two glasses in a second and smiled at the bitter taste. While I was busy with my glass and taking in my surroundings, a man walked towards my direction and I was uncertain if it was the alcohol kicking in, or whatever it was. But I was stuck and I refused to keep my eyes off him. He was drop dead gorgeous for a man, he had black hair let out making him look like a model, and his eyes which were staring right into mine and burning into my soul, was the color green, adding to his beautiful facial features. His dazzling bright shirt had off about three buttons down displaying some of his chest regions and his black pants to match. He seemed like he was here on a mission. What could the mission possibly be? He took a seat on the stool next to me and he and the bartender shared a smile, “The regular?” And he nodded, and I took in a whiff of his strong cologne. I shook my head and took the last three shots, which was followed by the deep voice of the handsome man which came with the popular accent people who lived in the neighboring states had, “You might want to slow there, sweetheart?” That sexy accent….I had forgotten how horny alcohol made me. “You have such a sexy voice, you know that?” I slurred and a chuckle escaped his pink lips which looked so soft, I just wanted to taste to know for sure. “I have heard that.” He responded, clearly amused with green eyes burning through my soul. “Sure, you have. Plus you look so handsome, you have to be a model, like appearing on magazine covers or something.” I continued and took my eyes away from him, and directed it to the bartender asking for more. “Don't you think you've had enough?” He moved closer to me and I shook my head ‘No’ smiling like a kid and resting my chin against my hand and looking at him. “Do you have a girlfriend?” He was sitting a stool away from me, so I placed my hand on his thigh which led him to tense up but the amused smile on his face never disappeared. “You know I don't think you have one but then again, you're too handsome not to have one.” I babbled on and caressed his thigh enjoying the smooth feeling of the material of his pants. “Oh, really? What about you, Sweetheart? Do you have a boyfriend?” He questioned and goosebumps ran through my body as he called me ‘Sweetheart’. “Not anymore…I just got dumped and you want to know why?” I giggled after he nodded in affirmation. “Come closer and I will tell you.” I whispered and he moved closer to me, so we were facing each other, our lips were so close but I moved to the right and whispered seductively in his ears holding onto his face with my warm hands, “He told me, ‘I'm horrible in bed.’ Would you love to give me some lessons and see if he's right?” I pulled away afterwards and he gave me an overlook, tucking his bottom lip and humming. But I continued running my hand on his thigh, forgetting who I was, where I was, and all that happened today. It seemed like all that mattered was him and his sexy body. From the bulge in his pants and how he kept staring at me and my cleavage in the summer, I knew what his answer would be. “I would love to give you some lessons. I do love tasting new delicious things and preparing…is a chef kiss.” He smirked and I smiled in delight, paying for my drink and rising to my feet. He paid for his and held my hand, and I knew it had to be the alcohol because as soon as I took his hand in mine, I felt like a shock…or a spark. As we left, I heard the bartender say, “Have a good night.” Which led me to think this was definitely the man next to me, routine. So he was a male prostitute? A gigolo…how much would he be charging? I just shook off the thought and alcohol had clearly clouded my reasoning.