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Michaela Donovan had just finished the best Screaming Orgasm of her life. Several of them, in fact, and each had been the perfect mix of vodka and Kahlua. Now, she feared the alcohol was getting to her. She glanced around the dimly lit bar, much darker than it ought to be, considering her watch indicated it was barely late afternoon. The windows were covered with blinds, but through the slats she could see how bright it was outside. Not a surprise. She'd only been there two days, but, thus far, Hawaii had proven to be a sunny, cheery place.
Everywhere except right here. She looked around again. The bar was deserted except for a couple who really needed to take the lift upstairs to their hotel room. Michaela wasn't sure if the man's tongue was all the way down the woman's throat, but it had to be close. His right hand caressed her breast through a sheer, gauze shirt, and both of them seemed oblivious to everyone else in the world. They were a cute couple, both blond enough so it was easy to tell they weren't native. She'd tried not to stare while nursing her last drink, but it was somewhat like a train wreck. No one wants to look, but it's hard not to.
The only other person in the room was a middle-aged, black-haired bartender who'd been friendly but not too chatty with Michaela. She'd liked him better before she'd noticed him ogling the couple who couldn't keep their hands off one another. He obviously enjoyed looking and wasn't trying to hide the fact. No wonder he hasn't asked them to leave. He's getting off on the show.
When his hand slipped underneath the short apron he wore, Michaela shoved away from the bar. That, I don't need to see. She wished she'd never noticed the man and woman. Their public display only made her hornier than she already was. After tossing some cash on the table, Michaela clutched her small, white handbag and stumbled towards the exit. She spotted a ladies' room off to the side and changed her mind, slipping inside.