The Procedure by Tabatha Vargo, Melissa Andrea Page B

she didn’t have any. She needed to be more social—step out with a crowd and laugh… maybe have a few drinks. She needed a night out.
    I waited at the bar across the room from the group I’d came with and waited for the bartender to serve me the drink I’d ordered. Looking down at my watch, I was nervous when I saw that it was almost ten. Samantha was almost an hour late, and I was beginning to worry that something might have happened to her.
    Tipping the bartender, I took my drink when she handed it over and turned to go back towards the table we were sitting at. It was then that I saw her. She was wearing a strappy, black dress that touched her knees. A slit worked its way up the bottom of her skirt and when she moved, a tiny hint of her thigh and garter showed.
    My body tightened everywhere as my eyes moved down her long, curvy legs to the tip of her stilettos. She was amazing. Beautiful. Sexy. As she looked around the room, she bit nervously at her ruby-red bottom lip and instantly, I imagined doing the same, nibbling on her lip and tasting her.
    Her dark eyes met mine from across the room, and she smiled in relief. I lifted my drink and waved her over toward the bar. Eyes turned her way as she moved across the crowded room. Guys admired her body and leaned their heads to the side to catch a glimpse of her ass as she walked by. She had no clue what she did to the males in the room, but I knew. I definitely knew as I adjusted my pants and took a seat on a barstool.
    “What will you have?” I asked over the music when she got to my side.
    “I’d like to try a beer,” she said with smile.
    Turning away, I ordered her a beer and tried to think of anything that took the mental image of Samantha naked in my bed away.
     
     

 

 
     
     
    I HADN’T BEEN out on the town since I was a teenager—since before Michael. He wasn’t one for dancing and drinking. Actually, he wasn’t one for fun, unless of course, it included a bimbo on his lap.
    I didn’t picture Roman as a man who drank beer, but once he handed me a longneck bottle, it was too late to change my mind. The bottle was cold, stinging my palm and chilling my lips. At first, the taste was unbearable. The bubbles rolled across my tongue, filling my mouth with the bitter flavor, but I continued to take them as Roman handed them over. After the first one, I didn’t even notice the taste anymore.
    He introduced me to the small group of friends he’d came with, two of them being women who were obviously head over heels for Roman. I didn’t say anything about it since I didn’t want to know if he was seeing either of them. I wasn’t sure when his dating life started to matter, but it wasn’t something I had any right to dwell over.
    After spending the day before in his arms, I knew I had to take a step back. When I got his text telling me to meet him the following night, I was so close to saying no. But then the memories of Michael and the blonde rushed into my mind and I knew that no matter how badly my body and mind was responding to Roman, I had to stay the course. I had to save my marriage.
    The two women, Laurie and Sarah, were attractive. Laurie was blonde and tall. Her legs looked amazing in her pencil skirt. Sarah was shorter with jet-black hair and big, pouty lips. I was jealous of several parts of their bodies, but once I caught Roman staring at me from across the table, all the jealousy wafted away.
    The gentlemen in the group, Chase, Gregg, and Marshall, were all colleagues of Roman’s. Apparently, everyone at the table was a doctor of some sort except for me. It was very intimidating to be surrounded by such smart people. Still, they were fun and talkative—asking questions and keeping me thoroughly entertained.
    As the night moved along, Roman’s eyes grew glassy, his cheeks flushing as if he’d had too much to drink. Still, he was ever the gentleman. Carefully ushering me around the room with his hand on the small of my back. Pulling out