Maybe Victor's night was beginning to turn around. Certainly, things were looking up if this beauty had just decided to plop down beside him, over any other man in this club, and she had definitely sparked his interest by taking an interest in him, clearly for reasons he had yet to discover. He wondered how she had managed to find him. Was it by chance? Or did she seek him out? If she claimed to know so much about him, she must of gotten her information from somewhere. Perhaps a friend of hers frequented the club, spotted him on several ocassions and told her about him, told her how gorgeous he was, how sexy, how the very sight of him made her cream her panties with ecstasy. He chuckled softly at the thought. Or maybe he'd slept with her friend, and she told this woman what a powerful man he was in bed, and how big his cock was. There were so many interesting possibilities, and he couldn't even begin to fathom any of them at the moment. Maybe because he was too busy staring at her amazing tities. Just the thought of diving into them head first, was making his cock hard beneath his black slacks.
His brows arched in surprise at her response. She hadn't seen any of his films, and yet she knew so much about him. His brows lowered over his eyes, which narrowed considerably, staring at her model like face, trying to figure her out, and what business, or pleasure rather, she had with him. The theory about her friend was starting to make sense. He was partially honored that whoever this friend was, she had recommended him to her for a screw. Perhaps something more daring. Too bad he slept with far too many women to remember names. Faces were a little easier, but honest to God, as long as they could screw, he didn't need to know their names. He cleared his throat, tugging at the collar of his dress shirt and gently nodding his head, glancing down at his glass of scotch. "Well then, sweetie pie, if you haven't seen any of my films, then how do you claim to know so much about me? You read an article in Playgirl? Or...Playboy, perhaps?" His lips curled into a cocky grin as he leaned closer to her, close enough to deeply inhale her sweet scent. "That is, if you play for both teams."
Suddenly, his grin vanished within the blink of an eye, a lingering suspicion hanging over his head at her choice of words. A muscle noticeably flexed in his jaw, his eyes narrowing once more in consideration. As delighted as he was to talk about how he made girls scream and made them bleed frequently, something didn't feel right about this little bitch. It might of just been the alcohol talking, but something told him to choose his words carefully. He heaved a deep sigh, glancing over his shoulder before lowering his tone of voice, looking her straight in the eyes. "Really...and just where did you hear that?" His asked with a somber expression. "Did one of your little friends screw me, and tell you how hard I shoved my dick into her tight little pussy? Did I make her bleed? Because if I did, I don't really give a shit. She can suffer, just like every other woman." He exhaled sharply, turning on his stool to face the bar once more, raising his glass to his lips and taking a sip.