Night was not the end of activity anymore, not ever since humans discovered fire and got comfortable with it. While night had become the time to end some things, and close some doors, it had also become the time for other things to start, and for some doors to open, like the doors of fun and relaxation.
One place for such fun and relaxation was the bar. There were many bars in the modernized metropolis, and there were many kinds of them. In the corner of one of them sat someone most inside had no trouble recognizing. The playboy was just that famous, especially in the circles where he was often seen.
Alex felt comfortable in the shadow draping over the dim corner where he was sitting. Lounging casually with one knee slightly raised to support his wrist, he moved his hand holding the thick-bottomed glass slowly, making the amber liquid inside swirl gently and release its not-so-light aroma.
The lights from the ceiling and the corners jumped off the disturbed liquid to create an almost hypnotic dance in his eyes. Combined with the soft music, the ambiance felt just right.
He raised his head.
The bar was not an exclusive one with access only for members, but it was not a casual one either. Men and women in trendy clothes sat either alone or in groups, laughing and joking to unwind. More than a few glances were thrown his way, but he still remained the only lone person no one came to bother, not even girls interested in discussing more than life with him.
For his part, though his eyes remained on the inside of the bar, his attention was barely there. His thoughts, they were on the full moon, on the accident today, on the visit to the hospital earlier, on the hat he had been avoiding but which had nonetheless ended up landing on his head.
Alex stopped swirling the whiskey and raised his glass. But he didn't bring it to his lips. He brought it in front of his face, closer to his nose, and took a light breath.
The heat hit him like a mildly scorching breeze, carrying the distinct smell of the years spent in a cellar, in a wooden barrel, an oak barrel, maybe.
But that was all Alex did. He didn't lower the glass to his lips, nor did he drink it. He didn't even seem to enjoy the result of the gesture that had been all but casual.
He lowered his hand, supported his wrist on his knee again, and returned to making the liquid in his glass swirl again. And like that, he seemed ready to spend longer in the quiet comfort of his loneliness, until a disturbance rippled through the bar.
Hot. Beautiful and hot, that was the only way to describe the blonde that arrived in the dim world of fun and relaxation. She was not wearing any skimpy clothes, and she had no need of them to be alluring, to appear sexy.
Just the confidence with which she casually held her handbag with her arm down, along with her straight back that made her figure striking without being exaggerated, and her hair, wavy and wild, falling over her chest and back were all she needed to create the appeal others needed to get themselves almost half-naked just to have. And her bright blue eyes were the last dots that took away any hint of vulgarity that could have marred her temperament.
It was an instinctive reaction, but all eyes came to rest on the blonde under the effect of the ripple she created with her appearance. First came admiration that everyone had in common for a split-second, before the looks diverged, becoming jealousy for women, even if not for all of them, and desire for the men, this one, for almost all of them, even those who were sitting with women.
The blonde swept her blue eyes around, before she walked to the bar, her steps sharp and bold.
"Isn't that Sharon Kenner?"
"Yeah, it's her."
"I have never seen her here."
"Yes, this should be her first time here and this is my first time being so close to her."
"She looks even more beautiful in person than on the screen."
"And more confident. I thought that was just the characters she played."
"Do you think you stand a chance with her?"
"You actually want to try and hit on her yourself, don't you?"
The same kind of conversation happened at many different tables in the bar. But that was normal. Sharon Kenner was as famous as the playboy, if not more, though in a more… orthodox way. She was a star, and no male could ever deny the appeal of one.
But over in the dim corner, the playboy had a different reaction from the rest:
"Oh?"
The slight raise of an eyebrow that accompanied the silent exclamation carried a hint of intrigue. It seemed that the blue eyes had paused on him just now, even if only fleetingly. And they had been devoid of the usual infatuation shown by most women.
The blonde stopped before the bar for a few seconds, then looked over. She picked up the glass placed before her just then, then walked over.
Alex's hand paused, and the calm vortex in his glass collapsed. A glint passed through his eyes, and he truly looked at the blonde with more than a cursory glance.
He looked into her bright, smiling eyes, then at her smiling red lips, then at her chest, and paused.
Men have always had a certain fascination for that front part of the body of the opposite sex, but it was not that attraction toward the soft land that caught Alex's attention. It was not the open collar that stopped going lower right before any tempting revelation either.
His gaze paused on the chest whose elasticity was proven with every step the blonde took, then raised his eyes back up with a light smile that was obvious at the corner of his mouth, and amused.
As the blonde arrived close, a light laugh escaped from between his lips:
"Interesting…"
"Heir Lenner, you seem lonely here. Would you mind if I sit with you?"
Even as she asked that, the blonde didn't wait for an answer. She put down the glass with the same drink as the one Alex was holding, put her bag to the side, then gracefully sat down.
Turning to Alex, she stared straight into his brown eyes with her blue ones, smiled, confident and elegant, and introduced herself:
"Hello, I am Sharon Kenner."