“I’ll have a Martini…dry, please.” Gin was my alcohol of choice for the night. I wouldn’t get shitfaced to where I couldn’t drive home though, I knew my limits. But that didn’t mean that I wasn’t going to get a bit tipsy.
“Coming right up,” bartender number one spoke before he went about pouring my gin and vermouth into a silver shaker and giving it a liberal jerk of his wrist. Seeing the action had my cock stirring in my pants and images of him wrapping his hand around me moved to the forefront of my mind. I needed action and in a bad way.
He placed a Martini glass in front of me on a hot pink napkin and tipped the shaker up, straining and pouring my cocktail before adding an olive as an embellishment.
Giving me a sexy wink before he turned and made his departure towards the other end of the bar, I picked up my enticing drink and before taking a hefty sip, I said partially under my breath, “Happy birthday to me.”
Feeling the cool liquid slide so smoothly down my throat, I had to close my eyes at the exquisite taste of the perfect combination. It was utterly refreshing.
“So it’s your birthday, huh?” I didn’t even notice that someone had taken a seat beside me. This voice was oddly familiar and came out as a deep rumble.
Turning my head to the side I was surprised to see it was Deputy Ethan Bradley. I had never seen him around here before, let alone anyone really from Brown County. Although I remembered hearing something about him being gay, it was just weird seeing him on the opposite side of the spectrum.
He was sans uniform and in a pair of dark denim jeans, with cowboy boots peeking out from beneath his pant legs. I realized that I was taking entirely too much time perusing his ensemble. So I was already going this far, I might as well check out the rest of the package.
Continuing to skim my eyes over his extremely fine exterior, I took in that he was wearing a rather snug fitting polo shirt that was tucked into those amazing jeans, and it was topped off with a silver belt buckle. With the dimmed lights in the bar it was hard to tell exactly what his buckle said, but I imagined that if he was anything like me, it would be something naughty.
I picked up the toothpick that held the green olive from my glass and leisurely placed it in between my slightly parted lips, sucking the remains of my martini from the meaty, bitter garnishment.
Ethan couldn’t take his eyes off of my mouth, so I supposed I was being a bit seductive in my act to eat the olive. No harm in that, right?”