STORY

[Dean Beckman]

If there was one rule, it was never go to a bar or club with a lady. The odds were always in your favor of finding someone hotter and if you didn't want to be a total cad, you'd have to ditch your date to hook up with the hottie. So to avoid such an eventuality, Beck never brought a date. He started all his evenings stag!

He bellied up to the bar, loosening his tie as he nodded to the bartender. She was a pretty slip of a thing, but Beck knew from experience that picking up the bartender was always left until later in the night. Most were surprisingly dedicated to their work. "Gin and tonic?" He asked politely. She moved off to get his drink and he turned and leaned against the bar.

It was typical Friday night at Bag o' Nails. The band was kicking it and there were certainly some beautiful women hanging around. Beck's attention was caught by a pretty blonde with legs forever that detached from her passel of friends and was headed to the bar. It was perfect. He didn't even have to separate her from the herd. The hard part was done for him.

Beck caught her eye as she approached the bar. He smiled a little, but then turned back to the bar to receive his drink. He took a sip, waited until the pretty girl had ordered and then moved up behind her. Leaning in, he murmured, "ten bucks says when you turn around, I say wow!"

The blonde turned around and true to his word, Beck was forming the word when the girl tossed her brand new drink in his face. She sidestepped him without another word. Beck leaned against the bar, grabbed some napkins to dry his face. He caught the eye of the patron sitting at the bar next to him and shrugged.

"Hey, it actually works seventy percent of the time!" His grin widened as his picked up his own drink and took a long swallow.

[Annemarie Bishop]

While Annemarie didn’t usually like to plan her fun out, there were special occasions when she left her house at night with a specific goal. These occasions, funnily enough, generally coincided with her wallet running annoyingly thin; the goal was always to find someone to make her lack of money a non-issue for the night. Because, while money was not necessary to having fun, it certainly helped. Having been in town for only a few weeks, and with the sheer numbers of bars and clubs Gaimen had to offer, Annemarie was very busy trying out the party scene lately. This meant her wallet was lighter more often than was desirable. It wasn’t a huge deal, though; Annemarie had never had trouble scoring free drinks. Free drinks were her goal tonight, and she was positive that she would not have to work hard to achieve it.

She arrived at Bag o’ Nails in pursuit of a good time, accompanied by a couple girls from the hospital where she worked. Work had been sort of rough—it was by far the most demanding job she’d ever had, and she was still getting used to it—and she had jumped on their invitation so she wouldn’t be tempted to spend the whole night in the bathtub. Long baths were nice but she was always tormented with wondering what could have happened if she had gone out instead. Annemarie barely knew the women and didn’t find either of them very interesting, at least not today, but it didn’t matter since she probably would not be seeing much of them after she walked through the door. She had a good feeling about tonight.

Annemarie led the way through the growing crowd of dancers to the bar, wanting to start the night out right—and right away. She touched her hair and the edges of her lips as she scoped out the fun-fodder sitting at the bar. Just as she was about to order, a tall blonde girl at the other end of the polished counter turned and threw her drink into the grinning face of a handsome man. Annemarie started laughing and traded elbow nudges with her friends. She’d never seen that happen in real life before! She had always wanted a good enough reason to throw a drink at someone (what girl didn’t?) but had never had one; seeing it happen right in front of her was almost as good as doing it. She noted that his evident good humor did not falter even as he wiped his face. It didn’t even seem to faze him. A man who didn’t mind a drink in the face was either so boorish that it happened all the time, or he was just too cool to mind. Obviously, Annemarie had no way of knowing which category this man fell into, but her eye was on him anyway, and it happy to be there. She wondered what he had done to catch a drink in the face. Her mouth unconsciously formed her “cute smile” and she made a point of glancing at him as she ordered her appletini--which hopefully would be the only drink she paid for tonight. She perched on a stool at the bar and waved her co-workers away, telling them she’d catch up with them later…however unlikely that statement was. Putting the glass delicately to her lips, she straightened her shoulders, which were bared by her sleeveless green flapper dress, and cast her eyes around the club. It was only a matter of time before someone decided to make her night fun.

[Dean Beckman]

The fellow that had sent Beck the commiserating look moved off. Which was fine. Beck wasn't here to chat with the fellows anyways. With the man gone though, Beck noticed a pretty little thing sitting a couple of seats down. He took another sip of his gin & tonic as he considered. And then she noticed the sideways look. Oh yeah. It was in the bag.

He picked up his drink and moved down the bar to sit beside her. "Don't tell me a pretty little thing like you is drinking alone tonight!" He said by way of introduction. He flashed her a smile. "Now, I'm not sure you wanna drink with that lady's cast off," and he jerked his head in the direction of the blonde, "but if you'd like, I'll buy you another drink!"

Now that he was sitting closer to her, Beck could see that she was little younger than he'd first suspected. He remembered chatting with one of the older lawyers at his firm who'd lamented that he couldn't get into the 80s club anymore. Looking at this girl, Beck was willing to bet good money that she was born sometime in the 80s. While Beck liked to think that sometimes he was better than that, the truth was, her age was half her appeal at this point. There was a certain challenge involved, and Beck liked nothing if not a challenge!

"I'm Dean Beckman," he said, extending his hand. "Call me Beck."

[Annemarie Bishop]

Annemarie was pleased when the man moved right away down the bar to sit next to her, though she only raised her eyebrows and took a good look at him. He was undoubtedly a lot older than she was, but his age didn’t have anything to do with how attractive he was—which was quite, if you must know the truth. So she had a thing for older men. Which was lucky, since they generally had a thing for her as well. Guys her age had their charm and uses, too, of course, but all that wore thin much more quickly.

“Not alone,” she said, after a leisurely drink. “There are like a hundred other people here.” But she smiled slightly to show she wasn’t being bitchy, then pretended to consider his offer of another drink. God, men were so easy. All you had to do was be there and you could get whatever you wanted. Well, she could.

“You can buy me a drink…but I can’t promise I’ll drink it with you. Beck. I just got here; I might find something more interesting to do.” Since he had come to her so quickly, it was up to her to keep the game going, putting him off until later. There was a certain satisfaction that came from drawing things out as long as possible. She found it satisfying, anyway. She turned a little away from him, watched the people dancing for a minute, before facing him again and smiling brightly.

“I’m Annemarie. You can call me Annemarie.” She took his hand and gave it a brisk shake.

“You know, you have a little—whatever that was—right here.” She released his hand and touched a finger briefly to his damp collar. “At least it wasn’t a bloody Mary,” she said, giving him the napkin her appletini had been sitting on. “Do I want to know what you did to deserve getting a drink thrown on you? It must have been bad, these things aren’t exactly cheap, you know.”

[Dean Beckman]

He smiled as the woman stalled. She was interested. There was no doubt in Dean's mind about that. The question was simply which game they would be playing, how it would be played and who would win. All debates aside, Dean knew the answer to the last question for sure. He didn't play to lose. That would be stupid!

"Something more interesting?" He repeated after her, looking vaguely confused. "More interesting than me?" His smile held enough self-deprecation that he didn't come off an completely stuck up. "Surely, there's no one more interesting than a guy that just got seriously denied for no apparent reason!"

He was gratified when she gave him her name. Annemarie was clearly old hat, despite looking barely old enough to have heard of the game. He shook her hand gladly, letting his fingers linger as she drew her hand away to daub at his collar. He grinned and took her napkin, making an effort to draw the liquid out of his clothes.

"No... no they aren't cheap," Dean agreed. He waved the bartender over. "The lady will have another." Dean said, pulling the money off his bankroll and handing it to the bartender. He smiled at her. "Of course, it's a long story. And, as you pointed out, there might be someone more interesting than me in this bar tonight..."

He stood, taking her hand an gently kissing the top. "It was nice to meet you Annemarie. Enjoy your drink!" Then he turned and walked away. Maybe it was a risky move, as far as "The Game" was concerned. You left a woman alone, and there was the potential for someone else to swoop. But Dean had seen the glimmer of curiosity in Annemarie's eye and was confident she'd want to know the whole story. He found a booth and sat, motioning for a waitress to come over when she had a moment.

[Annemarie Bishop]

Oh, yes. She was interested; of course she was. It was pretty obvious that this guy wasn’t a total creep. That was a valuable trait in a man, especially an older one. He was very classy, in fact, and not pushy. He was a good actor, though, and Annemarie had never been able to decide if this was a good thing or a bad thing. She kept her expression cool as he smiled at her, patting his collar dry, and put a good dent in her drink meanwhile. No point in wasting time getting the party started.

Annemarie batted her eyelashes with sweet sarcasm and accepted the drink he bought her. “How sweet, thanks, Mr. Beck.” She could see where this was going, having spent a lot of time in bars, with men… He planned, she thought, to try to pique her interest with the mysterious act, then reel her in. Well, fair enough; it wasn’t like she wasn’t trying to do a similar thing. The annoying part about that was that the mysterious act was really hard to resist. So when he got up, as she’d expected—giving her hand a really chivalrous kiss that she had not expected, how cool was that?!—it was a tiny bit hard for her to sit there and smile and watch him go sit across the room at booth. Sometimes, when Annemarie knew that she could get what she came for, at any time, with little effort, she had to struggle not to just take it. Her natural impulse was to follow him. But she resisted, because she knew she would get bored a lot faster if she didn’t. And Annemarie really did not appreciate being bored.

She turned casually back to the bar and started on the drink he had bought her, feeling a pleasant warmth kindle in her stomach. (Appletinis were so damn delicious.) She figured the older man expected her to come over to him and continue their conversation, but she didn’t plan to give in so soon. Though yes, she already did plan to give in. Or make him give in. It really would depend on how you wanted to look at the situation… Instead, she caught the eye of a cute guy near and smiled at him until he came over and asked her to dance.

“Hang on a sec,” she told the guy cheerfully, getting up and collecting her purse and her drink. She trotted over to where Dean was sitting and leaned down. “Hey,” she said, biting her lip and smiling. “Since you’re sitting down, can you watch my stuff? Just for a minute, so I can dance?” She deposited both her little bag and her drink on the table without waiting for an answer. “Thanks so much,” she gushed, already sliding away to where the young guy was waiting for her. “See you later!


((Let me know if this doesn't work for you... I can change it. =)))

[Dean Beckman]

Appearances can be deceiving.

Dean barely kept a laugh in as Annemarie came over and dumped her stuff with him. The girl was a pro... despite her appearance of youth. She knew how to play the game and play it with skill and humor. He was more than intrigued. He was reaching the "had to have her" stage. It was more than just sex. People could trigger something inside and for Dean, he liked a woman that caught him by surprise. Annemarie was someone to keep around for a while. Dean could tell.

He sipped his drink contentedly and watched as she danced with some young kid. He didn't really mind, since she was going home with him tonight. She could dance with whoever she wanted to. Maybe she didn't know it yet, but she wasn't going to be satisfied by some dumb kid. She needed him. It was just a matter of informing her of that fact now.

Dean flagged a waitress down. "'Scuse me, but would you mind hanging on to this for me?" He asked, handing her Annemarie's purse. He handed her a fifty. "Just for a little while?" The girl, who'd initially been reluctant, took the money and smiled. "Of course." Dean nodded, tossed back the rest of his drink and set the empty on her tray. "Thanks honey."

Then he crossed the dance floor to where Annemarie was dancing. She was dancing but the lout with her was barely shuffling his feet. Dean caught the man's shoulder and stopped him. "I'm going to cut in," he said without preamble. He pulled the young man backwards, away from Annemarie. "You don't mind, do you, beautiful?" Dean asked Annemarie with a smile.

[Annemarie Bishop]

This was already shaping up to be a great night, and she’d practically just gotten here. Annemarie knew, even as she walked away from Beck, that her little maneuver was successful. She just knew it had been the perfect move, leveling the playing field a little bit, by ditching him the way he’d oh so smoothly ditched her at the bar, and she knew that things weren’t going to stop here. Dean wasn’t really the kind of guy she’d really gone after, before--she had to face it: he was so classy he was practically out of her league--but she could already tell how things were going to go with him. The fun was only just beginning.

She beamed with excitement as she started to dance with the cute guy she’d paraded in front of Beck. It was all she could do not to look around the guy at him, to judge his reaction. To make sure he was looking at her. But there was no reason to think that he wouldn’t be—she had had the foresight to look extra fabulous before leaving her apartment. She didn't need to look at him to know that she was having a good time, and that was most important thing. The music, the appletinis, and the promise of the fun that she was sure was to come all came together and stirred up a warm, bright glow inside her, making her limbs feel loose and easy. This was exactly what she needed after all day of doing a job that was proving to be soul-crushing. She really got into the dancing, even though the guy she was dancing with turned out to have no rhythm (typical.).

She was practically in her own world, dancing with her eyes half closed, smiling, when Dean’s bright voice caught her and brought her back. “I’m going to cut in. You don’t mind, do you, beautiful?” Homygod. Her gray-blue eyes widened, and she laughed. How fucking suave was that?! If there was one thing Annemarie admired, it was a no-bullshit kind of attitude. Clearly, this man didn’t like to waste time. Fine with her. The other guy, who was sulking in outrage at being shoved away like a little kid like that, dropped off Annemarie’s radar completely. She grinned up at Dean, brushed his sleeve with her fingertips. She did not mind at all, and said so.

“I just hope you can keep up better than that guy!” she said cheerfully, turning her shoulders a little to visually cut out the young man, who was lingering nearby. She tossed her head a little bit and smiled at Beck, adjusted the thin straps of her dress with artfully slow fingers. She was feeling kind of warm, now, dancing with him. She realized that he had the greatest smile she’d ever seen.


((Excuse typos, it's midnight. D: <3))

[Dean Beckman]

The moron kid would do well to take notes, Beck thought as he took his place. Maybe next time, he wouldn't crash and burn so disastrously. Beck smiled at her flirty little moves: tossing her hair, fixing her dress. This honey knew the game well... That was just fine. It meant that Beck wouldn't have to explain it to her.

He caught up one of her hands in his and spun her around with a hand on her hip. He twirled her easily away from the other man before catching her up against his chest. Beck could dance, had made a point of taking lessons, so he knew how close to hold a woman. Close enough to tease, but not so close as to be trashy.

He looked down at Annemarie as they moved to the rhythm of the music. "Now, how'd a nice girl like you end up with someone like me?" He said with a smile. Then he twirled her into a dip before setting her on her feet again.

[Annemarie Bishop]

Holy hell, this guy could dance! Annemarie had never in her life danced with anyone who could actually, you know…dance. Gyrate to some music, yes. Uncouth grinding, yes. A shimmying shuffle, if she was lucky, yes. But this guy, Mr. Call-me-Beck, had actual, literal moves. He radiated class and charm, and while Annemarie wasn’t completely under his spell, she could certainly appreciate his capabilities. And his twinkling blue eyes.

She felt tiny and pretty in his large hands, and it didn’t even matter that she’d never before had the chance to dance as well as dancing with Beck required. He was leading and he made it easy for her to feel like she knew what she was doing. No one had ever twirled her before. It was then that Annemarie knew she would have to work to keep her guard up a little; otherwise it would be way too easy to go nuts over him.

“Well, you did cut in, how rude,” she giggled in answer, the corner of her lower lip finding its way between her teeth. The dip caught her off-guard and she clung to his arms, trying to keep the surprise off her face, as he set her upright again. One of the straps of her dress fell from her shoulder. She looked up at Dean, caught his eye as she hooked the strap on a finger tip and slid it back into place. She was feeling warm, almost hot, like she’d been dancing for much longer than she had. She moved back a little from the man—being close enough to smell him really wasn’t doing much for her brain function, not after the drinks she’d had.

“So,” she said, composing herself a little more. Part of the smell emanating from him—along with clean-man smell and cologne—was yeasty and alcoholic, which reminded her of the brief scene at the bar. “I guess I have time for a long story, if you do. Any special reason ‘someone like you’ decided to wash his face with cheap beer?”

[Annemarie Bishop]

WTF double post?! please delete.

[Dean Beckman]

Dean knew she intended for his gaze to stray from hers as she slowly slid the strap of her dress back into place. Whether or not she intended for his mind to happily reverse it and imagine it descending much further was anyone's guess. Dean wasn't one for undressing women in his mind. What was the point, when more often than not, you could do it for real. Still, a little fantasy never hurt anyone.

He obliged her change of topic, gesturing back towards the seat he'd taken when he'd left her at the bar. There was no point in trying to tell a story on the dance floor where they were being jostled by people who didn't know how to dance and every second word his said was drowned out by music.

"Do you know, you probably wouldn't believe me if I told you!" he warned her as he offered the crook of his elbow and led them off the dance floor. "The God's honest truth is that I slept with her roommate." He winced and offered Annemarie a little faux remorse. "Unfortunately for all involved, she thought it was more serious than I did." He shrugged and grinned a little. "Course, that was years ago and the roommate had died her hair since then! How's a guy to know?" He asked her, prompting for some pity-sympathy. He gestured for her to sit in their booth, before he took his seat.