by Darcia Helle

Created on: July 17, 2008

Enemies and Playmates

Gina hopped off the barstool. Perfect perpetually tanned legs, a teasing smile, dark eyes that lit up beneath long dark lashes. That was Gina. She not only turned heads, she stopped men in their tracks and left them drooling and speechless. "Let's dance," she said.

Carrie slipped off her stool. Short tousled bleached blonde hair, big blue eyes. Part hippie, part techno geek. She grabbed Lauren's hand. "C'mon," she said. "This is a great song."

"Not yet," Lauren said. "You guys go ahead."

Gina sighed. "Sometimes you're so uptight."

Lauren picked at her nail polish as her two friends disappeared onto the crowded dance floor. The DJ kept the crowd moving with a contagious dance beat. Carrie's platinum hair glowed under the flashing lights. More than a few men's heads turned in their direction. Lauren looked away. Gina was right. Sometimes she was too uptight.

Around her, sexy young women in tiny skirts were inundated with attention by hopeful young men. They were all so at ease. Would she ever feel that way?

Lauren silently chastised herself. One of these days she'd throw caution to the wind and do something wild and crazy. She rolled her eyes. That would happen right about the time flying monkeys took over the world.

The guy two stools over was slowly leaning closer to her. The heavy scent of his spicy cologne stung her nostrils. She sensed his come-on before he spoke.

"Hello," he said. "How are you this evening?"

Lauren mustered a smile. "I'm fine thanks. You?"

"Doing great," he replied through a toothy grin. "Even better since you got here."

Nothing original about this guy. He had short sandy hair and pale blue eyes. He wore a baggy designer t-shirt and baggy faded jeans. His line was dull. His look was dull. Lauren turned toward the dance floor in search of her friends.

"Can I buy you a drink?" the guy asked. His eyes remained fixed on her breasts.

"I'm all set," Lauren replied. "Thanks anyway."

He motioned to the empty spot on the bar in front of her. "You aren't drinking?"

"I'm driving," she said. She wasn't, though he didn't need to know that.

"But the night is young. One drink won't hurt you."

His voice had a cocky edge. Lauren shook her head. "No, I'd rather not."

He shrugged. "My name's Dean."

"I'm Lauren." She averted her eyes, picked at her nail polish. Were Gina and Carrie ever coming back or was she destined to spend the entire evening with Dean leering over her shoulder?

"Want to go someplace quiet?" Dean asked.

Lauren would

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