Just my type.


I was sitting at the bar during a break in the busy night when I saw this handsome, bearded man in the middle of the room. His demeanor intrigued me it was unlike most of the men here. I stared a moment and caught his eye.

I did not need to leave my seat and chase after him, I knew he was going to come…and he did. He sat next to me with his green eyes and heart-melting accent. He looked at me and simply said, “I need to talk to you.” It was like he had no choice, and neither did I.

He was a wealthy engineer from Ecuador, well-groomed and styled. He smelled of brandy and vanilla and the sharp aroma of winter. I welcomed his urgency as we fell into the natural ease of conversation. I was taken aback by the way I spoke of my desires with this stranger. The rush of my heart came with his curious stares and his rough hands gentle on my arm.

Such intense reactions to men at work do not come frequently.

My hunger for this man increased.

Who is he? When will I see him next?

I spend the rest of the evening sitting on his lap as he grasped tight onto my hips. I slowly moved my hips, whispering my favorite things in his ear as he slid money into my g-string.

He was just my type. And I was just beginning.

Eve LemeurComment