The Dare Ch. 04

The bartender and the stranger both looked at Liz expectantly.

"Yes, well, I mean, after I finish this one, yes, please." Her glass was still full, so ordering another would have been a bit silly. He nodded to the bartender, who glided away to get the beer.

"So, my name is Rafael, like the painter."

"Or the ninja turtle." Liz blurted it out without thinking, and suddenly blushed. He laughed.

"Yeah, and like the ninja turtle—but I don't know karate, or for that matter, can I paint. I do like pizza, though."

She giggled and instantly warmed to him.

"So Rafael, what brings you here?"

"Here on business...I work for Lexon Crystal, and I'm here for the seminar introducing the new line I'll be selling in the fall."

"So you're a sales guy. " Statement, no to wait for his nod. Terrific, just like Mike. Wonder if he will be as full of himself... "So where are you from?"

"Austin."

"Wow I never would have guessed—no Texas drawl." No calling me Ma'am.

"Well I am a transplant, from Sarasota, Florida, and only there 3 years, so I haven't quite earned the ten-gallon hat or Yosemite Sam voice."

Liz laughed. His easy manner made her comfortable. They stopped as the bartender brought the drinks over, grimacing, at her unfinished Cosmopolitan as he laid the new one next to it. She guiltily gulped down more than she had wanted, much too fast, and immediately regretted it as the alcohol and cold liquid rushed to her head.

"Whoa, slow down there, girl. No need to impress anyone." Rafael put a tentative hand on her shoulder to steady her. She hadn't realized the effects had shown, blushed again. Then the foreign touch registered...a stranger familiarly gripping her, sent another slight chill through her body.

"Thhank you," she stuttered. Whoa, girl, was right. She hadn't drank a strong drink in a few years, usually favoring sipping at her wine coolers and similar fruity drinks---'girly drinks', Mike called them---at the relatively few social events she attended. Last time for strong alcohol had been a New Years Eve' bash about 5 years back, to celebrate drinking for first time in 10 months following birth of their son.

"I think I just had a brain freeze. I'm ok now."

Concern lined his face. Chivalry wasn't dead quite yet.

Liz inhaled, smoothed her skirt, and smiled over at him. "So where were we?"

He hastily pulled his eyes up from the motion around her legs, redirecting towards her face. A gentleman.

"Well prior to your chugging like a college pro, we had discussed the whole of my boring life existence and getting ready to discuss why you are here, Mrs...."

Damn. Now what?

"Well, just sitting enjoying a drink, and appreciating the company. And you can call me Liz."

"Sorry, saw the ring and..."

Liz managed a look past him at the pool tables, seeing Mike's back, engaged with the waitress again. Fine, he had forgotten about her, wasn't interested in the dare. Well she had never lost one, yet.

"Don't worry about the ring, Rafael." God, she felt horrible saying that. Time to change subject.

"Are you married?"

"Uhm, no, separated. She, uh, left me for my best friend." Now it was his turn to blush. He turned back into his beer.

Ouch. So much for a pompous ass sales guy. Without thinking, she reached over and patted his leg gently above the knee.

"That sucks. How long ago?"

"About 6 months. I haven't dated since, still can't bring myself to sign the paperwork her lawyer sent me. Wait, I don't want to get all maudlin on you."

"It's alright if you want to talk about it. Obviously it is still fresh." Liz was a great listener, although usually these stories of cheating spouses were told to her from the female perspective. She didn't have any male friends who confided in her like that.

Still, a warning bell sounded in her head—what was a guy doing telling her, a complete stranger, this level of detail. Probably cathartic—after all she was a stranger, not a mutual friend of the wife or best friend. Poor guy must not anyone to spill his heart, bottling up all those feelings.

"No, I've already gone through that crazy rainbow of emotions—anger, jealousy, self-pity, more anger, and despair. I came here tonight to let down my hair---well, so to speak." Gestured toward his receding hair line and smiled.

"Oh, you are too hard on yourself. Your hair is fine." She snickered at his Rodney Dangerfield attitude. Guess all sales guys weren't like Mike.

The Dare, Liz. Let's see, the dare was to see if guys found her attractive enough to buy her a drink, which this guy did, but he was rebounding from a bitter divorce, and enforced six-month abstinence, so Rosie O'Donnell would appeal to this guy right about now.

Still, Mike didn't know that. Now for the tricky part of the dare.

"So Rafael, what did you have in mind." She leaned in, placing her hand a little further up from where she had patted before, but shy of...an unexpected bump met her touch. Well, she was clearly off her mark. Surely he couldn't be that long. Keys, wallet?

The shock taking hold of his face, and the reciprocal pressure on her fingertips revealed she had inadvertently completed the dare. She glanced downed quickly to see that just inside of his thigh, not more than two inches off his knee a bulge had exhibited itself in his khakis.

Astonishment must have shown on her countenance but she quickly dragged her eyes back up to his. "I'm sorry, I didn't realize it was—I mean, I didn't want to come on so..."

"Look, I just have a natural reaction to a beautiful woman, I meant no offense—." He was just as embarrassed, struggling for the appropriate words in this situation. There were none.

They both giggled and turned about face. She hadn't removed her hand, instead inched it further up, slowly delineating the massive protrusion as her fingers transcribed the image up her nervous system to her brain. GOD, she realized, he was LONG. HUGE. THICK. SOLID. All the hyperboles applied. And if he hadn't been with anyone since his wife left him, he would be, well, quite filled to bursting.

Mike, we didn't say what we would do if dare was completed, but I have to see what is trapped inside this stranger's pants.