“Classy,” I grinned. “Tell your friend you’re late because you were riding dick and dismiss me in the same burst of air? What else can you do with all that lung power?”
Nat, as Clara had called her, planted her hand on her hip and gave me that classic simmering bitch face that I knew all too well.
“Look, Tiger, you’re barkin’ up the wrong tree if you’re trying to bring my best friend home tonight. She’s already got enough to worry about without some smarmy, arrogant fuck bothering her.”
Just to send the point home, she waved lazily at me with a wrist in the dismissed motion. “Now, piss off.”
I laughed, taking a swig of my whiskey. “I’m sorry, I just thought we let our friends make their own decisions… Clara, if you want me to go, just say the word.”
She turned to me with a sweet grin. “I’ve told you to buzz off a few times now, remember?”
I grasped at my chest. “You’ve wounded me.”
“I’m sure you’ve experienced worse than that… Marine.”
For a brief moment, I had a flashback to a knife fight in the Afghani dust. Within seconds, I could practically taste the dust in my throat, blinded by the hot, unforgiving sun as a foreign voice shouted indecipherable taunts. I could feel the hard rubber of the hilt in my hand, and knew what I had to do…
“Well, I was in combat zones for a few years, so that’s fairly accurate,” I replied angrily. “Thank you for reminding me of my wonderful, feel-good time in the bloody, blistering desert. Now then, ladies, if you’ll excuse me…”
I stepped away from them, swallowing the fury that curled up in my throat like encroaching flames. What was THAT? I’d never really experienced any heavy flashbacks like that before, and to do so now of all times…?
Warm skin fleetingly brushed against my arm. Turning on my heel, Clara was at my side, looking at me with eyes filled with concern.
“Are you ok?”
I snapped out of it, shaking my head and looking down at her sparkling eyes.
“Look, that might have been a bit far. I’m really sorry… You just came off like a dick earlier tonight, and I was giving it back... You’re not going to give up on me now, are you?”
“You’re gorgeous when you open up like this, Clara.”
Clara blushed briefly, clearly caught off-guard. I could see her friend back at the counter, ordering a drink and looking over at us with confusion.
“I’m sorry… look, your name was Dalton, right? It’s been a frustrating night, and you had me a little off center… I was trying to forget you existed.”
“Well, I exist, and you got my name right,” I answered mechanically, trying to gauge where this was going. “I’m Dalton Cparlyle, of the 165th Steel Division in Afghanistan. Youngest member of the Carlyle Family of Southern England.”
“Sounds very distinguished,” she smiled. “Listen, would you like to get out of here, maybe? I could use some air.”
Ah, she’s remorseful now. Now she feels like she needs to overcompensate. I didn’t mind this particular trajectory anymore. Still, there’s the small matter of…
“Your friend,” I reminded, glancing over her shoulder again. Nat, likely short for Natalie, had affixed her attention onto flirting with the bartender as he mixed her up a cocktail.
“Oh, she’s probably fine,” Clara clarified, following my gaze. “Natalie knows I’m in a bit of a vulnerable position, so she’s always on the defensive for me… I mean… wait. Don’t read into that.”
“Don’t worry,” I reassured Clara. “I’m English and a former Marine. It’s not really in either code of ethics for me to be anything less than a cordial gentleman… Tonight notwithstanding, at any rate.”
“What, do you get a manual or something?” Clara teased playfully.
“With the Marines, yes, something of a field handbook. For the British side, it’s more of an ancient, leather-bound tome, really…”
“Kept in some dusty old monastery?”
“You’ve seen it, then,” I chuckled. “Surprised the Elders let you through, usually you have to submit to a thumb-prick to establish proof of your bloodline…”
We shared a brief laugh, redirecting ourselves to a nearby bar top. While making brief small talk, Clara drank over half her beverage and I finished off my whiskey.
“So, what do you do? Besides the banquet serving, I mean,” I asked her.
“That’s pretty much it. Thrilling stuff,” Clara answered with a noncommittal shrug. “I start school back up Monday morning, and that’s going to suck away all of my free time.”
“The university here in town?”
“None other than.”
“I see. I’m enrolled for the semester, too.”
“No kidding,” Clara raised an eyebrow.
I noted that she was going through her drink kind of quickly... an interesting observation.
“Would have figured you to be already done. I mean, you’ve gotta be twenty-four, twenty-five, right?”
“I’m twenty-six,” I replied with amusement. “I did eight years. Two back-to-back enlistments, and now I’m getting back to reality. How old are you, now that I know that you’re not twenty-one?”
“Don’t worry, I’m eighteen,” she smiled, taking another long sip from her drink. “Sounds like Uncle Sam’s working out pretty well for you, then. What brought you to the States?”
“My father,” I told her. “He’s a chemical engineer and his company sent us stateside to work on a collaborative project with an oil corporation here. I’m afraid I’m not privy to any more detail than that, but we’ve been here for about a decade now.”
“A decade?” She gasped with muted surprise, just as I knew that she would. “What kind of project takes a decade?”
“The kind that’s sort of ongoing, features a lot of internal bureaucracy, and involves this particular engineer deciding he quite enjoys the States,” I answered, watching her fight to keep her eyes glued to me. “But the details are not particularly important. All you need to know is that, here we are, and have been for quite some time.”
Clara nodded slightly. Just as I was observing that inhaling her liquor was making her more than a little tipsy, she popped open her gob, asking loudly: “Why the Marines?”
“It was supposed to straighten me out,” I chuckled… Didn’t hurt that I couldn’t spend much money if I was tied up in combat, and I knew that I could get a decent education pretty much anywhere in the country.”
There was also the small matter of the Carlyle Fortune, although I wasn’t interested in divulging the future multimillionaire aspect of my backstory to this admittedly attractive stranger just yet.
“Sounds like you made the right move,” she nodded. “You’re a smart man, Dalton. Pretty handsome, too…”
Clara slid towards me, a dopey smile crossing her face as she drew near. Instinctively, I reciprocated, drawing her into a delicious, liquor-stained kiss.
The room faded away from us, its bustling entertainment a complete afterthought. This young lady was ripe for the picking, blushing and starting to stumble over her words. She would be molding clay in my hands; with the right push, I could have her home with me, her fingernails clawing into my back or gripping my shoulders all night long.
But I had a rule.
They can only be slightly drunk.
I don’t bed drunk chicks.
There were two reasons she would have already started to feel a buzz this strong: either this girl was a lightweight, or the bartender had fucked up. He could have mistaken my smirk for make this drink strong or, somewhat more likely, he’d just fucked up the ratio of alcohols.
I suspected they were both probably true.
“How are you feeling?” I asked as I pulled back. She was clearly toasty, grinning toothily and giggling a little.
“I’m good. How are you?”
“Never better,” I chuckled. My cock was straining against my slacks, but I quickly repositioned it and drew up from the b
ar table. “Listen, give me your phone. I’m gonna put my number in there. Can I have yours?”
“Suuure,” Clara replied, handing me her smartphone. After reminding my new friend here to plug in her passcode, I added myself as a contact and called my own phone.
“Good. There, now we’re in contact,” I thought aloud, handing her the phone back. “Listen, let’s get you back to Natalie. You could probably use a chaperone…”
“No, I’m good though,” Clara insisted.
“Alphabet backwards,” I commanded.
“Ugh. That doesn’t even work right.”
“Z-Y-X, W, V-U-T…” I chimed out in tune. “S, R, Q, P, O-N-M-L-K…”
“That’s… that’s not fair,” she slurred.
“Alphabet backwards, Clara.”
“I… I can’t do it,” she replied. When I didn’t budge, she finally sighed. “Z-Y-P, Q, L-M-N-O-P…”
“Yeah, we’re going to get… who was it, Natalie? We’re going to get Natalie for you,” I smiled. “I can’t take you home like this. You’ll regret it in the morning.”
“I’ll totally have sex with you,” she grinned.