Smooth

She was beauty incarnated. He was nervous. He stole glances at this mystery woman. His mystery woman. Nice hair. Perfect skin. Eyes to die for. He unconsciously edged toward her. He realised what he was up to. He justified his actions. It was a bar, after all. People hook up here all the time. Onwards he edged.

She was prettier up close. But then, most women are. Mostly. She took a sip from her drink. Vodka. Straight, he observed, she knows her liquor. He reckoned the void between them. A few more feet and he'd be charged with sexual assault. His brain functions double-time. Now's the moment! Strike!

"Do you like... Harry Potter?" he said, staring at his drink. Shandy. Kid's drink. He doesn't like hangovers. He caught her assessing him out of the corner of his eye. He sucked in his stomach.

Her lips parted. She speaks! His heart soars! A reaction! But wait, his mind adds.. it could be rejection! His scrotum shrivels at the thought.

"Are you.. talking to me?" the words escape her throat. His penis regresses into a single-celled organism.

"Well.. yeah.." he murmurs, stirring his drink with his finger. She turns toward him. His penis returns to its multicellular glory. He sits up straighter, conscious of her roaming eyes.

"So.. uh.. H-harry Potter?" he tries again. She smiles slightly. She's amused! His heart soars again! But his brain pulls the plug once more.. maybe it's a grimace? Irritation?

She starts talking. He scans for sarcasm. Clean. Derision. Clean. Boredom. Clean! She's... dare he say it..? Interested!

He turns toward her, making brief eye contact,. Then his eyes slide down to her breasts. Remembering a book he read, his gaze climbs to her mouth. A middle ground. Her lips. Moving. Forming words with that beautiful orifice in her head.

"...never gotten round to reading it, y'know?" she concluded, punctuating her ignorance of popular literature with a hearty sip of vodka.

His brain flailed around for a reply. Wait, His instincts warn him.. Laugh!

He tittered at her anecdote. She smiled approvingly.

Damn you, reply! "Uh... uh.." Damn. She's getting impatient. Please God, he prayed. Inspiration hits!

"Cool." He adds a (hopefully) charming smile to this statement. She beams. Her cellphone rang. Pussycat Dolls' "Buttons". 'Loosen up my buttons, baby,' the phone pleads. He sweats.

Her lips are moving again. Her soft voice seducing the phone. The call ends. Her sensual fingers caress the keypad. Manipulating it. Touching it. Making it do.. exactly.. what she wants. His shirt sticks to his back.

He reads her lips. She has to go. They exchange numbers. Make a date for Friday. Dinner. Movie. And coffee at her place. She can't wait. She offers a hand. Crap. Sweaty palms. Following a brilliant stroke of genius, he wipes his hands on his pants. He shakes her hand. She winks at him as she leaves.

He's happy. He orders another shandy to celebrate. 2% alcohol this time, bartender! He felt adventurous. He looks around. He sees someone.

She's beauty incarnated. He's nervous. His palms are sweaty. He steals glances at her. He contemplates his plan of action. He edges toward her. Halts. A few more feet and he's in trouble. He stares at his drink.

"Do you like.. Harry Potter?"