1 FAUST & BOURBON

"Do you take card or cash?"

"Anything that's suitable with you, Sir."

British accent.

That's the first thing Orca noticed about the man who plopped himself on the bar stool beside her and flashed a lazy wide smile that made her blood curl with cringe and butterflies at the same time.

"Why that's pretty convenient! I'll do it with my phone then."

The next thing her drunken brain noticed was: The sharp jawline, long neck and the Adam's apple that deliciously bobbed along with the ripple of each word that come out of his luscious lips.

"What's your order sir?"

"Faust, Cranberry, vodka shots. Keep them coming."

"Yes, sir."

Fingers. Long, slender, sexy fingers that carded through his curly chocolate tresses had Orca's brain malfunctioning for a second or two. Or maybe ten.

And during that malfunction, he, with his bedazzling ocean eyes, turned to face her again and waved.

The combination of face, neck, lips and fingers, all at once. Orca mentally re-learned to breathe again.

"You'll die early, you know."

Of all the things he could have said, that's what he chose to bring Orca out of her drunken stupor and childish trance. Orca scowled.

He looked like a Prince Charming, but his words stung like a dragon's breath.

A hiccup escaped her heart pink lips.

"Because I drink? If that's it then plaster 'hypocrite' smack dab on your forehead before you go ordering drinks and preaching like a faux priest," Orca replied with a scowl, circling her finger on the edge of her iced Bourbon glass.

A melodious laughter. Almost princely. God, even his laugh was marvelous!

"No silly, because heaven misses the fine piece of creation that you are."

Orca went into a flurry of blushing hiccups. Her mind rendered too fuzzy to comprehend anything but flirty messages and obvious handsomeness.

The bar tender arrived with two big glasses, transferring the burning liquid from one glass to another then extinguishing its flame. He proceeded to transfer the liquid in shot glasses.

"Here you go, Sir."

"Thanks mate! You're jolly good at service!" the man grinned again.

Turning his attention to Orca again, he gestured to share the shots. Orca politely declined feeling content with her Bourbon.

"So are you always such a genius with conversation starters? Or was today your lucky day? Because I can surely imagine purses and shoes being hurled at your pretty face for using that bad pickup line."

"It's probability. Zeroes and Ones. You win some and lose some with these assumptions. But, I, Leonic Strauss, yes that was my subtle hit at introduction, only state facts."

Orca giggled. Giggled. If she was sober, her mind would have to reel into her pre-teenage days to re-live a memory of her giggling.

He his shots were all empty now. So was another one of Orca's Bourbon glasses. The eighteenth of the night.

"So, was it a fact that I'm gonna die early? Or that I'm a fine creation?" Orca gestured at herself, pushing her strawberry blonde hair behind her back and sitting up straight to accentuate the lacey black dress that hugged her curves like second skin. She crossed her bare legs at knees and raised an intimidating eyebrow in question.

"I'll leave that for you to judge," Leonic smirked and the way his lips curved on one side did things to Orca's brain. Not good things.

Orca pouted as the bartender brought in more shots for Leonic and filled her nineteenth glass of Bourbon.

"God knows I can stare at this glory for the rest of my life…if I get a chance to," Leonic sighed under his breath, leaning back on his stool to drink all of Orca's youthful beauty in.

Orca smirked seductively and studied the man in front. He looked young and to be able to afford any place that she visited, he ought to be rich. His pant-suit was fresh and nice, dark hues against his light skin, that was calling out to be marked and bruised —in a good way.

He lifted another shot glass and a Rolex brand logo peeked out from under his coat sleeve.

"And what if I give you trail opportunity of say…one night?"

Leonic downed his last filled shot and put up a hand as a gesture for the shots to stop coming.

The bartender nodded.

"And what if I agree?"

He raised an arched eyebrow, slipping his sexy hand inside the coat pocket and taking out his mobile phone. His ocean eyes stayed in an un-breaking contact with her hazel ones as his fingers worked something on his screen.

"Then what if we get a room?"

Orca suggested with a devilish smile. She stood up, carded her hair back and leaned in. Leonic grinned, slipped a hand to circle her waist and pulled her in, pressing against his chest.

He was hot.

She was cold.

He was Faust.

She was Bourbon.

In the close proximity their breaths mingled, Orca slowly slid her hands on his satin shirt, feeling underneath, and then proceeding to lock her fingers behind his neck.

"Then what if I kissed you?" Leonic asked in a breathy whisper, chest heaving up and down unsteadily, brushing against Orca's and igniting a desire she never felt before.

She was cold no more. Her insides were on fire. Her nipples were erect, demanding attention and her crotch burned in want.

"Then I'll surely agree," was all Orca could muster before finally closing the distance and smashing her lips against his. His soft, fresh and hot ones against her cold, slightly chapped and bitter ones. She pressed her body even closer to his, squishing her breasts in his hard chest, whining for more in the kiss and Leonic tilted his head gain better access as her hand gently and sensually ran along the small of her back.

The bartender had the obvious decency to not re-fill Orca's Bourbon. He picked up her glass and went away asking other waiters to not attend the customers who were busy attending themselves. He was talking from personal experience.

As soon as the bartender left them for privacy, Leonic pulled back, did a sloppy scan of a printed QR code behind the bar counter, paid the bill, and then dragged the unknown girl to an unknown place to do things that better be kept unknown.