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"Come on, ya sissy, down it," slurred Amber. She sprawled across the bar, one arm extended along it to keep her from falling face first onto the lap of the drunk in front of her. Her skirt was too tight, her blouse too revealing, but success was more important than decency at that moment. She knew he didn't recognize her. Over the past few months, she'd lost a good deal of weight, and her hair was now its natural black where it had been nearly blonde. Her nose was smaller, her eyes were now blue where they had been brown. No, he'd never recognize her. Besides, he never really looked at his conquests; he just used them before moving on to the next.
She eyed the man, silently urging him to down the amber drink in his highball glass. The dull gray parasite curled around the single ice cube, waiting to warm up and do its job. Tony Jeffers peered at her, his handsome face flushed, his deep, brown eyes unfocused. He smiled a lopsided grin that brought back memories of that night, making her stomach lurch.
He'd spilled half of his last bourbon down the front of his shirt. It pooled in the crotch of his jeans. In the dim lighting of the bar, she could barely see the dark patch. A liquored stick, she giggled and raised her own half-empty glass before downing it.
Come on, you bastard, she thought and slumped toward him, her hand inadvertently landing on his wet crotch. She wanted to tighten her fingers, to see if she could make him scream, but she held off. He'd pay soon enough.
Tony groaned and lifted his glass. Peering into it, he slurred, "Just a lil aphrodike, right?"
"Yeah, a little something I brought back from South America." She watched closely, herdrunken act forgotten for the moment. The glass rose to his lips and, as only an inebriated man can, he carefully downed the drink. He belched loudly and slammed the empty glass on the bar upside down. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he mumbled, "'Scuse me."
Amber was elated. Soon the tiny beast would warm up and Tony, the self proclaimed God's gift to women, Jeffers, would be hers. He didn't suspect a thing, and she doubted he had the brains to figure it out, until she told him. And telling him was a big part of her plans. She wanted to see the look on his face when he realized who she was and why she was with him.
"I gotta go to the john." He slid off his stool, nearly falling in the process. Leaning forward, he ran his wet lips across her cheek in a sloppy attempt at a kiss then straightened up, all six-feet-four of him. He turned, stumbling as he headed for the men's room. He swayed, bumped into a table, which thankfully was empty, then lunged through the bright red door.
Amber sighed and turned, facing away from the bar. Leaning back, she felt the edge dig into her spine, just below her shoulder blades. The room was nearly empty--Thursday night and almost closing time, it should be quiet. Most of the chairs had already been piled onto the tables. One other table was occupied, two couples obviously celebrating something. The fireplace had been left to die down, the curtains closed against the chill night air, and the wait staff was mostly gone. Even the music was off. Just the muscle-bound, thirty-something bartender, manning his post behind the long expanse of well-polished wood, ready to offer yet one more round to whoever asked. Amber wouldn't be asking. Neither would Tony.
A thud from the direction of the men's room, and a soft curse, told her Tony was on his way back. She watched him approach. He really was gorgeous. Those dark eyes and the dimple in his chin would make most women swoon, and probably a good many men. Amber smiled at that thought. Tony didn't swing that way, but that might change very soon. He was built like a swimmer, but with a little more muscle. He also had a nice crop of curly dark chest hair peeking out of the front of his shirt where he'd left the top two buttons unfastened. His jeans were just tight enough to show a hefty bulge where the wet spot spread from his accidental spill. Black loafers and a cowhide vest finished off the picture. If she'd been in the market for a one night stand, he'd definitely qualify.
Tony wasn't a nice man, though. He used his good looks to get what he wanted, and to hell with the women he hurt in the process. Fresh anger pushed any effects from the alcohol aside. She glared at his drunken swagger. What really pissed her off was even after all he'd done to her, she still wanted him.