Flooded with fresh heat, she shifted on her barstool to examine his navy, uniform pants. Yep, even from a distance she could see there was weight behind his zipper, plus he had a stellar ass, taut, but well-curved. Better and better. Finally, she saw his hips shift in her direction. She sat up straighter, watching him approach with athletic grace and a welcoming smile.

"Hello. Sorry to keep you waiting."

Miranda's red-glossed mouth curved in response. "That's all right. I can see you're busy."

"Yeah, we've got two, large conventions booked in for the rest of the week."

His face was riveting, strong, square jaw, full mouth with a sumptuous lower lip and vivid blue eyes that spoke of Celtic blood. Late twenties Miranda guessed, roughly thirteen years younger than her. As her gaze drifted from the strong column of his throat, over his wide chest and the rock-hard biceps, stretching the short sleeves of his white shirt, Miranda almost purred with anticipation. "I'll have a double Scotch," she told him, "single malt with one ice cube."

Aware his eyes were taking a good look as she spoke. Miranda wondered what he perceived. Though she wasn't conventionally beautiful, her nose a little large, most men found her looks intriguing. She was hoping this handsome, young stranger saw a woman very much in her prime. Those long hours in the gym and been worth it. Her upper body was now showing plenty of definition. Her full breasts nicely presented in the scooped-neckline of her form-fitting dress. And while her dark, shoulder-length hair was deliberately disheveled, her makeup and mascara had been skillfully applied to accentuate her best feature--her large, up-tilted, whisky-colored eyes.

"Would you like to see the bar menu?" he asked. "I can recommend the fantail shrimp?"

Savoring the sound of his Yorkshire brogue, tinged by a just-awakened huskiness, Miranda felt her body start to lubricate. She gave him her sexiest smile. "No, I'm good, thanks, just the scotch."

His gaze lingered on her face before he nodded. "Right-o, just be a tick."

As he moved to fix her drink, Miranda took in more details. The lights behind the bar highlighted the fine golden hair on his muscle-corded forearms. His hands were surprisingly elegant, the fingers long and lean with well-kept nails.

Visualizing those competent fingers slipping beneath her black thong, Miranda wondered if he'd be surprised to find her slick vulva denuded of hair. Mmm. Maybe I won't have him take me from behind first time...perhaps I'll straddle him--

"There you are, madam, our finest, single malt."

Miranda looked up sharply, inhaling the smoky aroma of Scotch as he placed a glass in front of her, along with a fresh bowl of nuts.

He stared into her watchful eyes. "Let me know if you need anything else."

With her pussy getting wetter by the second, desperate to have it sliding over his cock, Miranda took the bull by the horns. "As a matter of fact, there is something else..."

Starting to move away, Blondie, as she now thought of him, glanced over his shoulder, looking even more appealing as he quirked a fair eyebrow over those intensely blue eyes. "Hungry after all?"

You have no idea. She moved slightly so one spaghetti strap of her dress slid down her shoulder. Her prey followed the motion. His gaze a few degrees hotter when it returned to her face. Miranda stared steadily. "If you're not encumbered, I'd really like to have you."

She watched his pupils flare, wondering if this was a first for him. Though she'd never had trouble attracting the opposite sex, as fuckable as this guy was, he had to have oodles of women, and men, dying to get naked with him. She took a hasty sip of Scotch, preparing herself for rejection. Much to her relief, she saw a flicker of interest in his gaze.