Sucker Punch (Anita Blake, Vampire Hunter #27) - Laurell K. Hamilton Page 0,191

I’d have had to touch the hair to know if it just lay that way or if hair-care product held it in place. She touched a shoulder here, a cheek there at some of the other tables. She stayed away from the stage area, where the other dancer was still doing her awkward wiggle. It would have been considered rude if she tried to poach one of the customers near the stage while someone else was dancing, but the tables where people were eating or ignoring the stage were fair game.

As the blonde got closer, I could see that she was wearing black satin stilettos. The black dress was satin and shiny, moving around her body as she walked until I was sure that there was no bra under the dress, just small, tight breasts. That hint of breast underneath the satin was so much more attractive than the nearly naked woman onstage. Maybe it was the confidence that the blonde had as she moved through the room or the grace of her walk in the heels, but whatever it was, she blew the woman onstage out of the water—at least for me. I dated mostly men, but every once in a while a woman would hit my radar, and this one did.

I looked for Newman, but he was still hidden around the corner, giving our order to the bartender. How long could that take? The blonde was laughing with her head back as if whatever the three men at the table had said was the funniest thing. They probably hadn’t been that amusing at all, and no one laughed like that for real. It was as if she practiced it in a mirror the way comedians practice facial expressions for their standup, but whatever the blonde had been practicing in the mirror was elegant, sexy, and— Where was Newman?

I pushed away from the table so I could get up to check on him, and the blonde was suddenly standing in front of me. I was staring at the black satin of her dress and had to look up to see her face. It made her seem tall, but I’d seen the heels; they added at least five inches of extra height, which made her only a little taller than me. She smiled down at me. Her gray eyes looked huge, with thick lashes framing them. She’d done her eyes up in black, gray, and silver. It looked almost Goth or emo or whatever they’re calling it these days. It should have looked bad with the yellow of her hair, but it didn’t. Neither did the silver lipstick, or maybe it was just shiny lip gloss with little sparkles in it. Whatever it was, it matched everything else she was wearing just fine.

I realized I’d been staring at her, so I stopped and looked at the floor and then almost desperately in the direction that Newman had gone. You’d have thought after all this time I’d be less awkward around strippers, but being attracted to women was still new to me, and it threw me back to the old days when I was awkward around men. It was like starting over with a new gender was starting over completely. Or maybe it was just not having any of the men in my life with me that made me unsure of myself. I hadn’t had to meet new people on my own in a few years, and apparently on my own, I was just as awkward as I used to be. Great.

“Hi, beautiful,” the blonde said in a voice as silky as her dress.

Something about the tone reminded me of Jean-Claude back at the beginning when I’d been more a mark than a romantic possibility. The voice and the word choice were as fake as a three-dollar bill. I might be awkward with women on my own, but I was not a mark. My head came up, and whatever she saw in my eyes wilted the smile on her face.

“I didn’t mean to make you angry,” she said in a voice that was almost normal. She leaned her ass against the table, which made the bottom of the dress rise until it became doubtful if there was anything under it except for her. “Most women like to be told they’re beautiful. I know I do.”

“You’re beautiful, sexy, and more attractive dressed than the dancer onstage is nude. Now go find someone else to flirt with.”

“Why should I flirt with someone else