Cellphones buzzed and chimed behind her. The cacophony of sounds in Harlowe's quickly dwindled, as more and more patrons diverted their attention to the man laying on the floor. Clinking sounds traveled from the back section of the bar, where a few people remained oblivious about what had occurred.

"Oh my god! Why did he get punched?" Some random spectator said.

Another one gently pushed his way through the crowd to gain a better view. "What's happening? What's going on?"

"What did he do to her?" A woman asked.

A man laughed. "Someone help that poor bastard up."

The rest of the comments were drowned out by someone's loud heckling. "Wooo! Mayday! Man down! Way to go, Grant!" Some of the spectators curiously looked for the person. A balding man stood by the bar waving a drink over his head. Cackling obnoxiously, he shook his head and turned to speak with the person behind him.

Grant laid wide-eyed and motionless on the floor. He languidly brought his hand to the side of his face, heat rose from a large reddening spot over his cheekbone. The shock was still numbing the throbbing and stinging sensation emanating from the welt. 

Did she really just punch me? The words sluggishly formed within the haziness of his mind.

Before approaching her, the possibility that she would react negatively was taken into consideration. Perhaps a few choice words, maybe a slap or shove, but he never expected her to punch him. And she packed a hell of a punch! It was a sudden switch in reaction, since she seemed to return the kiss with equal passion just before the one-punch pummel. Did he imagine it?

He caressed the area while gazing up at her, not knowing what to think or if he should even attempt to move. Her imposing figure towered over him, looking down with an indiscernible expression.

His eyes continuously averted her stare. Why isn't she moving? Is she considering hitting me again? Or worse ... kicking me?

Prior to being sucker-punched

Glasses clinked as they crashed against one another with celebratory cheers. The majority of his co-workers stood behind him huddled in a group. Their loud chatter added to the mixture of sounds within the bustling bar. Somewhere underneath the energetic activity, a song played. He strained to listen to it, but couldn't make out the lyrics.

After working a sixteen hour shift, the minutes seemed to drag. Rather than relaxing, the outing drained him quicker. Robert Hansen, one of the staff administrators, convinced the head of administration that all the physicians—that would have gone and stayed home—would benefit from a little bonding. Supposedly, one of a few extra get-togethers to show appreciation.

This was just a lame excuse of Rob's. None of the attending physicians wanted to go out that night, especially if they had to endure the displeasure of Rob's irritating and chauvinistic company. He was the type of man that thought every white person would automatically laugh at a black joke.

Michael Stratford-Hernandez, another physician, sat on the stool next to Grant. His dark eyes forlornly cast downward at the beer in front of him, quietly waiting for the night to end. There wasn't much Grant knew about the man, he barely spoke about his life outside of work. When Mike's eyes slowly looked at him, he gently nodded.

He decided to avoid making him feel uncomfortable by turning his attention away and scanning the bar. They rapidly roamed through the crowd of people gathered in various groups until they landed on a woman wearing a black dress.

Her hourglass figure was held snugly by a little black dress that ended mid thigh. It tautly gripped a robustly rounded bottom.  Every single detail about her was soaked in. He couldn't help the flurry of sexual images that simultaneously wandered in his mind, nor the immense desire growing within him. It wasn't until he noticed her staring directly into his eyes, that he flinched and smiled.

Rob sidled up beside him. "Weeell," he drawled out and cast him a greasy smile as he set a drink on the bar.

Grant momentarily glanced at him. He peered down at the drink, trying to ignore the strong blend of Acqua di Gio and whiskey that wafted from Rob. It was an excessive stomach-turning scent that immediately shrouded him. Uncomfortably fidgeting in his seat, he subtly tried to move away, but Rob gripped his shoulder.

"I see that black chick over there's got your attention. Getting a little jungle fever? Oh yeah, jungle fever's got you good!" Rob said in a gravelly voice.

His shoulders tensed up. He noticed Mike quizzically peeking over Rob's shoulder. The expression on Grant's face melted into one of sympathy. Mike raised an eyebrow, stood up and walked away. Rob remained oblivious to it all, or just didn't care. His grey eyes remained locked onto Grant.

He shook his head and refused to answer. Great. Maybe if I just ignore him, he'll walk away and harass someone else.

This didn't deter the obnoxious administrator. He continued speaking.

"Let's make a little wager here," he slung his arm around Grant, whispering loudly into his ear. "What say you to being able to switch any two days? Switch them around for your convenience ... in case you have a sudden rendezvous?"

"That's it? Not much of a prize for what ever it is you're selling—which I probably won't want to do anyway. PASS."

"Let's up the stakes then! We have a few trainees coming in soon, and while we all pitch in, you and I both know the bulk falls onto the primary physician ... whose name they're under."

Grant clenched his jaw. "I'm well aware of the mentorship program. Is there a point to all this?"

"One of the trainees doesn't have a mentor yet. They can easily be paired up with you, doctor marvelous."

"Are you strong-arming me into your little game? Sounds more like a threat to me."

Rob chuckled. "No, the decision hasn't been made yet. It was between you and Mike. I can easily make it so that the newcomer shows up next to his name on the next schedule."

"I know I'm going to regret even asking," he sighed. "What do you want?"

"Relax, geez! It's just a simple dare. Just go up to her, introduce yourself and ... kiss her. What ever happens next is all up to you." He waggled his eyebrows.

It seemed like a strange request to hear from a grown man. He scoffed and looked away. Taking a moment to control the annoyance building within him, his head snapped back. "Really? What are you, forty going on six? That's childish. I knew you had control issues, but this is bad. Actually ... maybe you've had too much to drink." He gestured to the bartender and pointed to Rob. "No, more drinks for this guy!"

Feigning hurt, Rob pouted at the bartender before dismissively waving a hand. "He's joking! Come on," he dropped his head. "When was the last time you even had any? Besides, it's just a kiss."

Taking in his words, Grant thought about the question. It must've been quite a while if he couldn't remember the month. He'd been too busy to date and time had flown by without notice. There were a couple of women he tried dating, but the last one couldn't have been less than six months ago.

His eyes darted to where Nathalie stood, animatedly interacting with her group. She had his interest and he wanted to get to know her. A date would have been better, but circumstances sometimes change.

"Okay," he chugged his bourbon and nodded. "She's probably going to slap me."

"Hey, that'll be entertaining too!" Rob grinned.

That's probably what you really want to see, you balding bastard. He eyed him warily before standing up. Here goes nothing.

Breathing in deeply, he steadily approached her. What the hell am I going to say? I can't just turn her around and kiss her. "You have lips, I have lips, let's put them to good use?" He muttered to himself. That's awful! No, don't say that. Introduce myself, explain the bet, then go in for the kiss. "Get it together, man. You've kissed plenty of women. It's just a kiss. Harmless, right?" People are going to think I'm crazy, if I keep talking to myself this way.

Once he stood behind her, the sudden urge to turn away from the dare pricked at his brain. His rational mind warned him from some distant far corner within. It took everything to quash the little voice. Well, don't just stand behind her like some creep. Do something, you idiot!

"Hey," He began to reach for her, but she suddenly turned around. When her eyes slowly peeked up from under her long lashes, his breathing hitched. She was even more beautiful up close. "My name's Grant. This is going to sound completely immature, but I was dared by someone to come here and kiss you. Not that I needed a dare! You're extremely beautiful and—screw it, I'm just going to shut up and kiss you now."

And then it was: hello floor!

She stood there for a moment before taking a few steps closer. He flinched and braced himself for impact, but it never came. Instead, she held out her hand.

"Come on."

"Where are we going?" He asked, while she helped him up and followed her to the bar.

"Can I get some ice packed in a cloth napkin or towel?" She asked the bartender. "Have a seat."

The bartender handed her the items. He tried to grab the packed towel, but she gently placed it over his cheekbone.

He reached up and his fingers lightly touched her hand. "Thank you."

For a moment, her expression softened, but it quickly flickered into a serious expression. She pulled her hand away and glared at him.

"I wanna know what the hell you were thinking? Coming up to me and kissing me like ... like that?"

"It was stupid of me. I'm really sorry." He shook his head.

Her eyes widened. "Yeah! No sh—," when she observed him, she noticed he was genuinely sorry. Regret crept and clouded his azure-colored eyes, causing her to feel a pang of guilt. "Look, I didn't mean to hit you so hard, but you practically assaulted me with them lips of yours." She glanced at his mouth and quickly looked away.

"Yes, it was a crazy thing to do. Believe me, I know."

"Crazy as all hell. Not even gonna ask me my name, just ... bam! Put your face all up in mine?"

He scrunched his eyebrows, silently thinking if he had imagined the introduction. Sitting up straighter, he smiled at her.

"Let's start again. Hello, my name's Grant. Harlowe's peck pest extraordinaire! What's yours?" He held his hand out.

Caught off guard, she stared and started to laugh. "Nathalie." She said jovially.

"Pleasure to meet you, Nathalie. You know, I noticed you earlier. Your beauty absolutely captivated me and I'd really like to get to know you better. As a person that is ... I've already been introduced to your fist." He gave her a goofy smile.

"Lord! You're a hot mess!" Her laughter rang sweetly in his ears.

"Hot mess? Really?" He chuckled. "Would you like to join me for a drink?"

*********

***[1912] Their introduction is a very important part, that's why these are the longest chapters. Not to mention the prompt part, which will have its own set of problems coming soon.***