Free Foreplay: A Succubus Diaries Prequel by Jill Myles Page A

drink. I peered at the rows of glasses in front of me. Sure enough, eight empty martini glasses sat on the bar.
    Perhaps it was time to stop drinking. I popped a cheese fry into my mouth. It was cold and soggy.
    “Last one. I’m serious, lady. You’ve had enough,” he said as he delivered the drink.
    For some reason, that irritated me. Not that he was cutting me off. That I was “lady.” Not “miss,” or even “young lady.” Like because I wasn’t pretty and eighteen, I wasn’t worthy of respect. Or pretty and blonde and wearing pearls. Or pretty, blonde, wearing pearls and a skirt I could barely walk in, going around and stealing other people’s jobs. Jerk. He was so getting a shitty tip. I swigged the rest of martini #9, ate the olive, and then set the glass down with a thump.
    Someone at the far end of the bar gave me an irritated look. I peered toward him. He wasn’t bad looking. About my age, messy hair, a bit skinny. Glasses. A little geeky looking.
    Other than the skinny thing, we could be soulmates. I smiled brightly in his direction, smoothing my rumpled blazer.
    Maybe I needed a man to distract me from the pain of losing the job of my dreams.
    Romeo took one look at me, recoiled, and turned away.
    Clearly he wasn’t into drunk geek girls. Story of my life – rejected by everyone.
    I scowled and pitched an empty martini glass at him. Who needed men, anyhow?
    “Hey,” yel ed the bartender. “Time for you to leave, lady.”
    Again with the lady. I shot him the bird and slapped some money down on the counter, jerked my purse into my arms and staggered toward the door. I was wearing my only pair of cute black pumps from the meeting with Julianna, and with a few martinis in me, it was tricky to walk. Real y tricky.
    I stumbled my way out the door and into the street. A car honked, whizzing by way too close. I stepped backward, head spinning, and scanned the crowded sidewalk. An empty al ey cut through the block, dimly lit and car-free.
    Paradise! I headed for the shortcut back to the bus-stop.
    A smal red light flared at the far end of the al ey, near a street light on the other side. I gasped in delight, but it disappeared. As I watched, the light flared again, and I moved toward it, drawn. Pretty.
    It was a cigarette, the tip lighting red as the owner took a long pul from it. A shadowed man, leaning up against the wal , taking a smoke break. So much for my deserted al ey.
    Disappointed, I scowled and stomped past him, not making eye contact. I could see a taxi waiting at the curb down the street, and began to dig into my purse for cash. Stupid man had ruined my al ey.
    It appeared that digging-while-walking was one of those things that got impaired when one drank, though. My purse flew out of my hands and landed at the stranger’s feet.
    I giggled.
    He bent down to pick up my purse at the same time I did.
    His hands were faster than mine, and his balance was better, too. My head smacked against his and I recoiled, flying backward. The world tilted and I ended up flat on my back in the al ey, with him standing over me, holding my purse.
    Head ringing, world spinning, I reached up for the purse.
    “Give me back my purse, thief!”
    A sardonic laugh echoed in the al ey, bouncing off of the wal s. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
    “That’s mine,” I slurred, struggling to sit up. “You can’t have it.”
    To my surprise, he offered me a hand, since I seemed incapable of getting up. I slapped his hand away and wobbled to my feet on my own, clutching a nearby Dumpster to help pul myself up. Once I was standing, I reached out for my purse.
    He didn’t give it to me. Instead, he got very stil . The cigarette fel to the ground. “I’l be damned.”
    “What?” I made a swipe for my purse, but missed again.
    The world spun around once more, and I decided to sit down, right in the middle of the al ey. This was real y too much for a drunk woman to handle.
    He knelt beside me, grabbing my chin and