I had just moved to a small city in Scotland, and there was a pub just 5 minutes away that I’d been going to for something to do in the evenings. However it wasn’t just the pints that kept me coming back. One of the bartenders that worked there was one of the most attractive men I’d ever seen. Probably around 6’4″, long dark hair that was in a bun most of the time, tattoos all the way up his thick arms. Arms that looked they could throw me around with ease. And that quintessential Scottish accent that was the cherry on top, making me absolutely weak at the knees.
It had been a long time since I’d gotten laid, and I found myself one night sitting at the bar daydreaming about the bartenders strong hands on my tiny waist, up to my boobs, his lips on my neck, one of his hands traveling back down to reach up my skirt. I suddenly realized that I wasn’t staring into space, but directly at the bartender and he was staring back at me. My eyes went wide and I quickly looked down at my drink. After a second I chanced a quick look and saw him smirking as he was turning away to get someone else a drink. That was embarrassing, but the smile was a good sign. Maybe it was time I shoot my shot.