Questionable Morals and Breached Contracts

Chapter 4: Daniel

Completing my assessment of Millie's physical presence, I notice a heightened sense of nervousness in her demeanor. Her breath quickens, and I relish the surge of power and confidence that courses through me, realizing that my mere presence has disrupted her composure. This newfound revelation fuels my determination to break the silence and get an answer about the shots.

"Millie... What shots? I really don't have all day," I press, my patience waning. Despite my persistent attempts, there's still no response. Frustration mounts as I call her name again, this time with a more exasperated tone. "Millie! HELLO... Are you even listening... Fuck it, I am going to pick something myself."
Turning away from the brunette, I shift my attention to Busty, who eagerly awaits my decision. She gazes at me with unwavering attention, hanging onto every word as if my choices are the only thing that matters. The realization that I could effortlessly take her home for the night brings a sense of power, though she isn't exactly my type. Millie's faint voice breaks through the air with a brief suggestion, "Not limoncello," as she finally tunes back into reality.
Ignoring Busty's expectant gaze, I order 20 shots of Jägerbombs. While she scurries around to fulfill the order, she attempts a poor wink in my direction. Unfazed, I understand her attempt to impress, thanks to the £50 bill I discreetly handed her earlier. My only desire from her is improved service.

As I wait for the shots, my mind briefly considers the possibility of getting Busty's number for another day. A fleeting thought, as I made a promise to focus on Mark tonight. However, the idea of adding someone new to the mix briefly tantalizes my mind. Memories of random calls to gauge reactions resurface, a testament to my unpredictable dating approach. My attention is drawn back to the bar, where Busty's attempts at making the shots prove embarrassingly inept. The first batch is missing Jäger, and her determination to impress me is almost painful to watch. She fumbles again, knocking over seven shots. I brace myself for a potentially lengthy wait.
Amidst this chaos, an unexpected sensation distracts me.
A breeze brushes past my left arm.
It repeats, again and again.
Is someone intentionally blowing on fucking my arm?

I turn my head sharply with a mix of confusion and disgust, only to find Millie inexplicably jumping up and down like a hyperactive kangaroo. My immediate instinct is to figure out the cause of her erratic behavior. Perplexed, I witness her head moving left and right, executing a full 360-degree spin, and resuming her bouncing routine on tiptoes. Utterly baffled, I try to spot Reg and Terry to share the absurdity of the situation, only to discover that they, along with the girls, have vanished. Realisation dawns on me – this is why Millie is freaking out. Searching the dance floor, I locate my friends in the VIP area, where Reg's prowess has undoubtedly secured their presence. I marvel at his charm. Gripping Millie's shoulders firmly, I'm struck by the softness of her golden skin. A subtle shimmer catches the light, reflecting specks of glitter. I wonder if it's intentional or just a natural quality of her skin. The contrast between her softness and my rough hands is noticeable, yet strangely pleasing. Without moving my hands, I guide her toward her friends and mine, sensing her shoulders relax and a calm flutter overtake her.

Millie turns to face me, offering a small but meaningful smile. I can't help but wonder if she thought her friends abandoned her for a brief fling with guys they barely know. Our eyes lock, and the seconds stretch into minutes as a silent understanding passes between us. I offer a sympathetic smile, acknowledging the unspoken connection. Busty, our now more confident waitress, arrives with the tray of shots. I reluctantly drop my hands from Millie's shoulders. "Only charging you for 10 shots, handsome," she declares, punctuating her words with a poorly executed wink. It seems she's gained some confidence, likely fueled by a few shots for herself. As I reach for my wallet, a sudden touch on my chest freezes me in place.
"Oh baby, I will get this round," a voice says, and a card is tapped onto the reader, paying for the bill. Bewildered, I glance at the well-manicured hand and arm, realizing it's connected to the very shoulder I had been reluctant to release.
Millie?