Questionable Morals and Breached Contracts

Chapter 4: Daniel

Mark and I stride purposefully into the lively bar, the pulsating beats of music and the chatter of the crowd enveloping us. Unsurprisingly, we find Terry and Reg lurking in their natural habitat, desperately vying for the attention of the fairer sex. At the mere sight of a woman and a heartbeat, their collective IQ seems to drop faster than a lead balloon.
I decide to cut through the testosterone-laden haze and make a beeline for the bar, deliberately avoiding any fleeting glances from eager females along the way. Tonight, my focus is solely on Mark, and the prospect of entertaining the pitiful and desperate attempts of any potential admirers is far from appealing. Reg has ensnared a petite brunette in his arms, and Terry, or at least a semblance of him, is engaged in a questionable robotic dance with a birthday girl bedecked in a sash.

As Mark heads over to the boys, I navigate the crowded space and reach the bar, determined to get our libations without unnecessary detours. Busty, whose name I can't be bothered to remember (do I really care?), is engaged in conversation with someone else. I seize the moment, "Hi love, me again... Can I get 6 pints of Bud and... Hang on a minute..." My attention diverts to Reg, and I holler across the room to inquire about his drink preferences. The response is as perplexing as it is unhelpful – "ask Millie."
Who in the world is Millie?

Reg persistently points to my left, where I discover a brunette with sharp ice-blue eyes, delicate freckles gracing her face, and lips that glisten with moisture. Admiration for Millie's features floods my senses. There's an intriguing tension as our eyes lock, and she nervously bites down on her bottom lip. The adorable display of anxiety only serves to heighten my interest. Are my mere glances enough to make her uneasy? How utterly endearing. Our gaze reconnects, and her lips, wet, plump, and richly colored, captivate my attention. Undoubtedly, the best feature on her face.
My mind automatically goes in the gutter and I wonder what those wet lips would look like around my co..
Nope.

Taking a moment to collect myself amidst the chaos of the bar, I decide to engage with the enigmatic Millie. With a determined focus, I lean in slightly and direct my attention to her, "Millie... is that your name? Is that you?" Her gaze remains fixed on me, eyes traversing up and down my form, and those lips of hers, constantly moistened, betraying a subtle allure.
The lack of response from Millie becomes increasingly frustrating, prompting me to raise my voice a notch, "MILLIE." My irritation is palpable, and I'm growing impatient with the prolonged silence. What's with the mysterious act?
As I await a reply, I take a moment to scrutinize this captivating brunette who's been eyeing me up. Despite my initial intent to escape the bar quickly, the situation has taken an unexpected turn. Millie's hair, cascading in waves around her shoulders, adds to her allure. I find myself appreciating the brunette's features - a welcome distraction from the chaotic atmosphere around us. If she's going to take her time eyeing me, well then, two can play that game. Millie, with her good-length waves of brunette hair, has piqued my interest. Very perky tits. Tits that I can imagine are more than a handful but a perfect amount for my mouth....
I mean for a mouth.

My gaze travels down Millie's figure, taking in the details of her attire. The black, skin-tight dress she's wearing leaves little to the imagination – it's as if it's been painted directly onto her skin. The fabric accentuates every curve, clinging to her like a second skin. Her legs seem to go on for days, emphasized by a pair of sleek black heels that add extra inches to her already impressive height. I estimate her to be around 5'8, not exactly short, but certainly not towering.

As my eyes roam back up her body, I can't help but scrutinize every inch of her. The dress is a delicate balance – revealing enough to stir desire in the dimly lit club, yet not crossing the line into desperate territory. It's a fine line that Millie effortlessly treads. She's undeniably fit as fuck, her physique suggesting a dedication to fitness, but as my observations unfold, it becomes apparent that there might be a mismatch between physical allure and intellectual engagement. The silence between us remains unbroken, and I begin to wonder if Millie has any intention of speaking at all. Is this an intentional game of mystery, or is there something more beneath the surface? Her alluring exterior, while captivating, leaves me with a lingering curiosity about the person behind the provocative facade. As intriguing as the visual allure may be, the absence of verbal communication only deepens the enigma that is Millie.