One Night Stand
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"Is this seat taken?"
I looked up. . . and up. He was very tall. And by Sathembi, he was incredibly good looking. "It's been waiting for you all night."
"Then you must be the person I've been looking for." He sat on the stool, setting his drink on the bar.
"Who are you, mystery man?"
A quiet smile in the semi-darkness. One side of his face showed clearly, the other was masked in shadows. "Does it matter?"
I swallowed hard. He was FSF. That much was obvious. Even without the uniform, no civilian ever carried himself with that kind of military bearing, the expectation of being obeyed instantly. . . hellfire, even his precise haircut looked military. Federated SpaceFleet, all the way. But he was right—it didn't matter. "Something tells me I shouldn't ask."