I sat at the end of the bar, my glass of Jack and Coke firmly in my hand as I watched her. Her black wife beater and low rise, skin tight jeans showed off just enough to be a tease and I groaned internally as I realized just how many assholes I’d have to teach a lesson to tonight. I sipped on my drink as I let my eyes play over her. Spencer was dead sexy and she had come to realize it working it, though she still didn’t under the magnitude of the effect that she had on any warm blooded thing in the room. She was hot. Her blonde hair was pulled up and out of the way but it just accentuated the curve of her neck and the way that her skin glowed under the club lights. I caught the flirty smile that she sent my way and I smirked at her over my glass as she expertly poured out shots. I was there for every one of her shifts, exactly for the reason that I was there tonight. To lay my fist into anyone who tried to touch her in a way that I deemed inappropriate.

                I saw him coming from a mile away, his business suit and cocky swagger. I knew he’d try it, just like all the other guys like him did. I bet he wore Ed Hardy. Douchebag. He was surrounded by three other guys in suits, but you could tell with the way that they fawned all over him that he was the leader. He sat down near the middle of the bar and I could already see him sizing up my blonde, and the spark of interest in his eyes as she laughed with a regular. I stood up and slowly popped my knuckles before making my way down the bar. She saw me coming and gave me a warning glance but I just smiled at her calmly as she leaned over the bar towards the guy.

                “Hey, what can I getcha?” She asked, having to yell slightly over the menu.

                “I don’t think what I want is on the menu,” He said, smirking as he let his eyes travel up her torso. She rolled her eyes along with me. What an unoriginal line, she heard that at least twice a night.