Serendipity

Chapter 1: Martini and Scotch

Sometimes we cross paths with the same people more than once, and are near them for a very long time. Some nights, we stumble upon our soulmates with no proper introduction. Lucky to those who catch it in one sight, luckier to those who felt it.

She could tell instantly from the way he nursed his scotch that he was from money. It wasn't the fact that he was currently slouched at the bar in a crumpled Dior suit or his $2500 shoes were highly polished but it was the way he failed to take any notice of the cheap women that fluttered by him looking for a cheap flirt and speak easy evening with a rich gentleman, instead he took care in taking long deep sips of the golden liquid that was gradually draining from his glass.

As she sat afar in her secluded booth, she couldn't help but notice the lonely look he had in his eyes. It wasn't a look of dismay or annoyance but a look of regret and longing that seemed to make her grow cold and wonder who this man was.

Walking over to the bar where he was slouched, she gestured for the bar tender and waited calmly, not saying a word but glancing occasionally around the room and a few times to him who hadn't even flinched at her presence, as if she was just another woman alone in a bar looking for something interesting to satiate her for the night.

"Martini, please," she pressed as the bartender nodded, quickly fixing the young lady her drink.

The sound of her voice instantly snapped him to attention, needing to know who this powerful and unfamiliar sound was coming from. Looking up, his eyes were met with the sight of a goddess.

He had seen a lot of women, every shape, ethnicity and color you could think of yet he had never come across someone so alluring as the women stood next to him, innocently taking a small sip from her martini glass.

"It's on me," he immediately insisted as he nodded in the direction of the bartender who waited for some sort of confirmation from the brunette.

"As kind as that may be, I can buy my own drinks."

"I don't doubt that for a second but-" he started before being cut off by her quick tongue.

"Then you'll have no problem understanding that I don't accept drinks from strangers," she corrected, only finally looking at him fully as she turned her head so they were both looking head on.

"Then tell me why you're drinking alone in a bar swarming with enough men to ply you with drinks all night?" he offered, straightening his posture somewhat as he took another sip of his scotch.

She shrugged, looking away and taking another sip of her clear poison.

He couldn't help but let his eyes draw from her slender shoulders down the length of her body that were covered by a tasteful plum evening dress, as she supported her stance with her forearms that protected her drink while she endlessly swirled her olive in the liquid.

"I have a taste for brooding alone in bars and it seems you do too," she commented, looking up to him once more as a nod of approval graced his demeanor.

"How observant of you..." he drawled with a finishing sip of his scotch.

When he saw no evident reply forming from her, he wondered why such a beautiful woman was alone in a bar. He came here often and yet had never seen her or noticed her before.

Glancing at her left hand he noticed it bare; curious as to why someone like her hadn't already been snapped up.

He knew a high-class call girl when he saw one and she was anything but. The way she looked so peaceful but at the same time solemn was a mystery to him; how she could be so firm when she spoke, so confident and dignified.