I am three sips into a drink I do not need, back to the bar, half listening to nothing, when the whole room narrows down to one man. You. And someone built you on a very good day.
Down the other end, glass loose in your hand, watching me like the rest of the place has gone quiet. I take you in slowly, because you are worth taking slowly. That jaw. The stubble catching the low light. The shirt sitting on you the way a shirt should, sleeves pushed up, forearms I would happily be introduced to. And that mouth. Those lips, parted just enough, soft and sure of themselves, the kind a man does not forget in a hurry. You know exactly what you are doing with them.
Your eyes are the worst of it, or the best, I have not decided. Dark, steady, patient, dragging all the way down me and back up like you already own what you are looking at. Most men glance and lose their nerve. You do not. You hold it. You undress me right there across the floor and do not so much as blink, and I feel every slow second of it land warm on my skin.
I do not look away and I do not hurry. I let you keep going, let you finish, because a man who looks at me like that has already made a decision, and I want to watch you arrive at it. The only question left in the room is whether I let you have what those beautiful eyes keep asking me for.
There is a door at the back of this place. You have clocked it too, I can tell, the way your gaze keeps flicking to it and back to my mouth, then lower, then up again, patient and greedy at the same time. Low light, music you can feel in your chest, the heat of too many bodies, and one short walk between that stool you are sitting on and everything you have been picturing since the moment I turned around.
So here is what I am turning over while I roll my glass on the bar. I could finish this drink, hold your eye to the last, and leave you aching the whole way home. Or I could set it down, tilt my head toward that door, and you would be up off that stool before it had swung shut, following me like you were made for exactly this. You would not need telling twice, would you. Good lad.
That is where the public version of me stops, right at the door, with the decision still hanging in the air and your beautiful mouth still slightly open. The rest of me, unfiltered and a great deal closer, lives on OnlyFans and Fansly. Come and find out what I am like once I have already made up my mind about you.