Page 6 of Bang Buddies With Benefits
“Just you, gorgeous.” Such a smooth talker. Always had been, always would be. He pulled away, and every cell that made up every inch of me screeched a complaint. Then I realized he was mixing up a drink. A highball glass with a double shot of the Japanese whisky I liked, with a lemon wedge and an orange wedge, as I was picky like that.
The citrusy flavor hit my tongue, leading me to believe that was his in-person signal that he was down to get down. “So, if I texted you a peach later tonight?”
“I’d be sure to have my big ol’ eggplant locked and loaded.”
2
Zac
It’d been way too long since I’d seen Catalina. There was that saying about absence making the heart grow fonder, and while I couldn’t speak to that, the tiniest glimpse of her amazing breasts sure caused my dick to grow harder.
Somehow, I’d downplayed her in my mind, along with our previous encounters, which ranged from frequent and steamy to sporadic and extra explicit. She also did casual better than any person I knew, male, female, or non-binary. Several claimed that was what they wanted, and perhaps they’d even managed to convince themselves they could refrain from getting attached.
At one point, I’d done similar, so who was I to judge?
During that time period, I’d purposely avoided her, partially because of work and the hectic whirlwind my life had become, but mainly due to my attempt at a steady relationship. Not that I’d ever stray once I committed, but the explosive chemistry Cat and I shared would always be a temptation, and I chose to be overly cautious rather than taunt my carnal inhibitions on the regular.
I’d also shut down even the most negligible flirting at the bar—which cut into my tips more than expected—and went all in on that bitch called love.That’s how hard I’d tried to make it work.
Big surprise, it’d ended badly, despite the disclaimers and promises made at the beginning. The third time wasn’t a charm, and considering our situation required constant run-ins, it felt more like a curse.
Instead of fretting over the next two months, I opted to fixate on the snug fit of Cat’s dark red dress, and how it highlighted the curve of her ass and the sashaying of her hips. Her perfume lingered in the air, the slightest whiff leaving my libido raring to go, and I was glad for the cover of the stand. The woman was like sexual dynamite, and I couldn’t wait to do some recking of my own.
Admittedly, I’d hoped our paths might cross tonight. It was why, when Zoie had a pet emergency come up last minute, I’d agreed to fill in. Speaking of…
I pulled out my phone to check if she’d been the one who’d texted me while I was making that mojito.
Zoie:Dude. Not only did he eat grapes, which are poison to dogs, he ate an ENTIRE bowl of my grandma’s plastic grapes. I’m not even sure which is worse, but the vet says he’ll be fine. Thanks again for covering.
The two of us had worked together for years and years, seeing each other through ups and downs, and for her, every shade of hair color known to man. Technically, she was my employee, but I considered her more my co-captain in booze. In some ways, she also felt like the little sister I never had.
Me:Get a puppy they said. It’ll be fun they said.
Zoie:RIGHT? But look at this face…
She’d attached a close-up pic of Nova, her two-month-old boxer, no cone of shame in sight. Still, I’m sure the emergency visit cost a pretty penny. We’d already gotten into an argument about tonight’s tips. Zoie refused my offer to split them, and I refused her refusal. There at the end of my relationship when I’d been doing my damnedest to plug a sinking ship, Zoie had kept the bar afloat.
Another text had come in as well, this one from my brother.
Noah:Well? Do you have a plan for that? I need reassurances here.
Me:Working on it. Don’t worry. I swear I’d never do anything to mess up your big day.
Noah:I’d prefer a solid plan instead of well-meaning promises. Especially after what happened at the engagement party.
“Do you have any top shelf whiskey?”
I slid my phone in my pocket and quipped, “Yeah, but it’s on the bottom shelf tonight.”
The man on the other side of the bar chuckled, same way other party attendees had done after an exchange that fit the script almost word for word. This type loved the shit out of that joke. While I rarely tended anywhere but home—and by that I meant the Drunken Kraken—I occasionally said yes to events like this, where the room was chock-full of lawyers or doctors.
Over the past two years, I’d delegated most of our private bartending gigs to Zoie. Her flair skills were on par with mine, and the tips were simply too good to pass up. Not to mention it was free advertising, and as Miss Catalina Mendes, Attorney at Law could attest, I was good at snagging repeat customers.
I lifted the bottle of Johnnie Walker Platinum that was blended with Scotch, and the Yamazaki single malt.
“You pick,” he said with a wave of his hand. I chose to go with Johnnie, since I’d served the Yamazaki to Cat, it being her single malt of choice.
As I pushed the shot glass toward the guy, my gaze snagged on Catalina again. She gesticulated wildly with her arms, putting her all into whatever story she was telling. Her large gold hoops rattled with the motion, a contrast to her inky black hair. Her skin was a deeper bronze than usual, so she must’ve recently gotten some sun. Maybe that meant she’d learned to kick back in other areas of her life besides the bedroom.
