Free Mayday by Olivia Dade Page B

smiled and came over to where he was standing.
    â€œNice of you to grace us with your presence, Mayor,” she said, leaning into the bar with both hands laid flat. “I’ve been wondering when you might come by. You haven’t visited for . . . what? Two months now?”
    He shrugged. Since the first May Day Celebration Committee meeting, to be exact, but Tasha didn’t need to know that.
    â€œWhat can I get for you?” she said.
    â€œTwo bottles of beer. The usual.”
    With a friendly nod, she readied his drinks while he looked around. Jesus, the place was packed for a Thursday night. Good for Tasha. He couldn’t even see all the tables through the crowds of people standing around the bar and grinding up against each other on the tiny wooden dance floor. Fortunately, though, Chris was a tall bastard. He could spy his friend waving from a small, miraculously empty table.
    He waved back just as Tasha came back with the beers. “Thanks,” he said. “Keep them coming, please.”
    A beer in each hand, he began making his way through the crowd. He only had time to take a few steps, though, before he felt cool fingers on his back.
    â€œWes?” he heard someone say. “Is that you?”
    When he turned, he saw the long, lean form of Dominique Weldon standing inches away from him. Her sleek, brown hair hung almost to her waist, and she was dressed for the night in tight jeans, sky-high heels, and a silky camisole. No bra. He could already tell with the familiarity of long experience. Experience with women in general, but also with her specifically. She’d always been proud that her small, high breasts didn’t require extra support.
    At one time, the sight of her nipples outlined through the camisole would have drawn his undivided attention. Now they mostly made him wonder if she should put on a sweater, because she was clearly feeling a chill in the air.
    â€œHey, Domi,” he said.
    When she moved in for a long, tight hug, he couldn’t do much about it given the beers occupying both hands. Not that he necessarily wanted to pull away. She wasn’t what he wanted, of course. Then again, he wasn’t what she really wanted either. For a couple of years after his election as mayor, they’d become used to serving as occasional substitutes for the real thing.
    Maybe they would do the same tonight. Why not? Domi was willing. Attractive. She didn’t expect anything from him but a quick lay.
    Rising on her tiptoes, she spoke into his ear. “I’ve missed you.”
    He waited for a shiver of response that never came, even though her lips brushed his ear in exactly the way that used to get him hard.
    â€œMe too,” he said.
    It was only a partial lie. He’d spent two months now caught in the grip of a woman who didn’t want him. The memory of time spent with another woman who didn’t fight his every attempt to get closer . . . it beckoned him. Tempted him.
    Helen clearly didn’t want him. Was it so wrong to stop fighting for her attention and interest? Would anyone blame him for accepting what he could easily have, rather than struggling for what he really desired?
    â€œLet’s dance,” Domi said, pressing a kiss along his jaw.
    Again, nothing. Not a twitch below the equator. He began to suspect that Helen had somehow flipped a switch in his cock when she’d visited that region so many months ago.
    He pulled away a few inches. “Give me a minute to drop off these beers, and I’ll come back.”
    Her hand flattened up high on his chest, and then slowly slid downward. When it reached the waistband of his jeans, she grabbed hold, yanked, and slammed his hips against hers again. “Hurry,” she said.
    He fought against a roll of his eyes as he headed toward the table where he’d last seen Chris. Typical Domi. So theatrical. He liked her, though. They didn’t talk much as a rule, but she could keep