One-shots [𝓈𝓅𝒾𝒸𝓎]

𝚂𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚢 3 [part 1]

The late-night bar hummed with a symphony of soft murmurs and the gentle tinkling of the piano.

The dim lighting cast a warm, golden glow over the polished mahogany surfaces and the framed black-and-white photographs that adorned the walls.

Patrons leaned in close, their conversations blending into a soothing, indistinguishable hum.

On a bar stool, near the far end, sat a woman of striking elegance.

Somewhere at 42 years old, she commanded attention with her presence alone. Her silky dress, a deep shade of emerald, clung to her curves and featured a daringly low neckline that showcased her still-perfect cleavage. Draped casually over her shoulders was a short coat, and around her neck hung a string of pearls, loose and slightly askew, suggesting a touch of carefree sophistication.

She sipped her scotch whiskey with a practiced grace, the amber liquid swirling in the glass as she brought it to her lips.

The tranquility of the scene was abruptly disrupted as the door swung open with a loud clatter. A group of young men in their early twenties burst into the bar, their exuberant cheers cutting through the soft ambiance. They were full of life, their laughter infectious as they made their way to a table, eager to start their night of revelry.

The lady watched them from her vantage point, her eyes narrowing slightly as she took in their youthful energy. She sipped her scotch again, the ice clinking softly in her glass. Her gaze, sharp and discerning, eventually settled on one of the boys. He stood out from the rest with his easy smile and the innocent sparkle in his eyes.

He caught her staring and, for a brief moment, their eyes locked. He smiled at her, a genuine, boyish grin that reached his eyes. Her face remained expressionless, but her eyes held a flicker of interest.

She turned back to the bar, the corners of her lips curling into a secretive smirk. She raised her glass to her lips once more, savoring the rich, smoky flavor of the scotch as it warmed her insides. Her mind wandered as she considered the night's possibilities, the soft melody of the piano playing on.

The bartender, polishing a glass nearby, glanced at her and raised an eyebrow in silent inquiry. She met his gaze and gave a slight nod, signaling for another drink.

As the bartender moved to fulfill her request, she felt a presence beside her. Glancing sideways, she saw the young man from earlier standing there, his hands tucked casually into his pockets, his smile now more tentative but no less charming.

"Mind if I join you?" he asked, his voice a mix of confidence and curiosity.

She took a moment before responding, letting her gaze sweep over him. "That depends," she replied smoothly, her voice low and velvety. "Can you keep up?" She teased.

He chuckled, a sound that was both light and genuine. "I guess we'll find out." He slid onto the stool next to her, signaling the bartender for a drink.

The bartender placed her fresh scotch in front of her and raised an eyebrow at the young man. "What'll it be?"

"I'll have what she's having," he said, nodding toward her glass.

She raised her glass to him in a silent toast. "A bold choice," she remarked. "Do you know what you're getting into?"

"I like to think I do," he replied, clinking his glass against hers once the bartender handed it to him. He took a sip, wincing slightly at the strength but managing to keep his composure.

She watched him with amusement, her lips curving into a more pronounced smile.

"I'm Sam, by the way. And what's this pretty lady's beautiful name?" he asked, his youthful, playful smile lighting up his face.