Foster then turned his attention to the brunette. He took his time looking the woman up and down as she followed her friend to the table. She was taller than her friend, but still much shorter than his own six and a half feet tall. He thought she might be round and curvy, but it was hard to tell. Her top hung on her, disguising rather than emphasizing her curves.

He liked that she was dressed casually in leggings and knee-high boots to go with the oversized shirt. Her dark-brown hair was caught up in a messy bun high on the back of her head. He allowed himself a moment to wish her hair was loose so he could see how long it was. He loved to play with long hair on a woman.

His cock twitched as he scanned down and then back up her body to focus on her face. Her features were fine, her nose slim, her chin pointy, making him think of the elves on the Hobbit movies. When she turned her head, he was almost disappointed to see that the top of her ear wasn’t pointy, but was small and round. The lobe boasted two earrings, a small silver hoop earring and a small silver ball. He wondered for a few seconds what other secrets her clothes hid.

A tramp stamp on her lower back? Or maybe a clit piercing? Something about the woman said that there was a lot more to her than it appeared.

Grabbing his phone off the bar, Foster left his glass of water behind and stalked toward the high-top table. “Good evening, ladies,” he said in his most casual, non-threatening manner.

Brenna smiled at him as she climbed onto a stool, while the other woman whirled to look up at him. In seconds, her expression raced from fear through shock to shy interest before she blinked and blanked her expression.

“Oh, my,” she breathed as she took a step back, bumping into her chair and having to dance a little jig to maintain her balance.

He grabbed her arm to keep her from tripping over the chair as it fell to the ground. “Foster Michaels, mafe applicant,” he said with a grin. He waited until she was steady on her feet before releasing her arm. He picked up the fallen chair before offering his right hand.

“Harper Ellis,” the woman said, still sounding a little off-balance.

She shook his hand with a firm business-like handshake, which impressed him. The tingling warmth that flowed between their palms had his cock twitching with interest.

“Are you all right?” he asked when she simply stared up at him.

“You’ll have to excuse, Harper. She’s out of practice when it comes to talking to men,” Brenna said from her seat. “Girlfriend, let go of the man and sit down.”

Harper blinked then glanced down at their hands, which were still moving up and down in a long, drawn-out handshake. Then she looked at her friend and squeaked. She immediately released his hand, pulling her right hand around behind her back.

“Oh, um, sorry about that.”

While tempted to assure her that he would be happy to hold her hand any time for as long as she wanted, Foster remained silent. He then shifted around the table to an empty chair so the ladies wouldn’t see that his cock pushed at the front of his pants. His body already hoped he and Harper might get better acquainted ASAP. As in, your-place-or-mine better acquainted. His body didn’t care that they were still strangers, it knew what he needed.

Once they were seated, the bartender appeared to stand in the space between Foster and Harper. “What can I get you tonight, ladies?” the bartender asked, as if their appearing at the bar on a Tuesday evening was a common occurrence.

After they placed their orders, Harper’s for a hard apple cider, and Brenna’s for a glass of the house white wine, Foster added his order for a beer. He then turned his head and quietly told the bartender he’d be taking care of the tab at the end of the night.

Turning back, he looked into Harper’s deep brown eyes found himself swimming in warm chocolate. He blinked as he cleared his throat and reminded his body that he was here about a job, not a hook-up no matter how attracted to Harper he found himself.

“So, Harper, what is a mafe?” he asked, relaxing into his chair once the bartender moved away from the table.