Jackson woke with a start at 7:15 pm. He had that damn dream about the bronze haired nymph again. He dressed and went into Sarah's room. She was sitting up in bed reading. "Wanna have a drink with me before I head out?"
"Nope."
"You mad at me?"
She dropped her book and laughed. "What on earth could I possibly be mad at you for?"
"Just making sure. Don't wait up."
"Never do."
Jackson arrived at Poncho's at 8:30. He had taken out his new Lotus Elise and gone for a joy ride first. He avidly collected exotic, fast, cars. Each of their homes had large "stables" (he refused to call them garages, "It's such an uncivilized word.") filled with Ferraris, Lamborghinis, and Porsches, along with prototypes that Sarah did not even try to keep track of.
It was still early, but he would hang back for a bit and check things out thoroughly before going into action.
Poncho's was a staple for the twenty-something crowd. It consisted of a restaurant area, a large serpentine shaped bar and another room off to the side with two pool tables and a jukebox. The lighting was sparse, which created an advantage for Jackson. With his vampire vision, he could see clearly what the other patrons could not. 'The hunter's edge'.
He sat at the bar, ordered a drink, then swiveled the stool for a better view. There were a few couples at the bar, nothing interesting. He turned his attention to the pool tables where two couples were playing and drinking beer. Right in the middle stood a cute little redhead about to make her shot. Most surely a contender. She was laughing and one of the guys, probably her boyfriend, had his hand on her ass.
Jackson moved to get a better view. Leaning into the corner, he sized up the situation. He thought briefly of his dream, but the hair color differed. It was bronze in the dream, not red, and Freckle's hair was Irish red. Hopefully, she would be O negative. Definitely not a virgin, not the way she was grinding up against Joe Jock.
While contemplating whether Freckles would be worth having to influence the other three or not, Jackson caught sight of someone in his peripheral vision. Hello! A beautiful woman walking along the bar stared at him. When he focused on her she quickly averted her eyes. Must be a shy one. Sure didn't seem it though. This one wasn't just pretty; she was downright gorgeous and carried herself with a sartorial elegance. She didn't seem to belong here, way too classy. An upscale bar in Manhattan would be a more suitable environment. She appeared to be in her early thirties, had chestnut brown hair that fell in soft waves around her shoulders with thin streaks of what looked like fire running through it. Jackson mused, that must be natural. All those colors didn't come from a bottle. She wore a silk blouse, Jimmy Choo's and a pencil skirt with a slit up the side, which gave just a glimpse of leg that went on forever. Jackson was most definitely a leg man. They didn't have to be particularly long. The shape was the important aspect. This one had it all. He glanced back at the redhead briefly and thought, she'll keep. Beauties like Gams don't come around very often.