I sat upright while running my fingers through my hair. Everything was swaying back and forth; I was still drunk, and it was already 2 in the afternoon. The morning sun beaming through my windows lit up my loft, causing tears. I tossed my red sheet aside before heading to the bathroom. Veering into the mirror, my hands turned the faucet on to cold. Splashing the cooling water on my hot face relieved the swaying in my head. How much did I drink last night? I went into the kitchen for some more alcohol to help me get through this hangover.
"Two bottles of Champagne? That's it?" I uttered to myself.
"Ugh!" I heard a groan behind me.
Eric is lying on my couch in worse shape than me, "Want a mimosa?"
He contemplated for a moment before looking at me and nodding his head.
"Good," I responded, "Now I feel better about drinking as soon as I awaken."
I removed the orange juice from the fridge and seized a bottle of champagne. I came over to Eric with an outstretched arm, gesturing for help. My body slinked down on the couch next to him and opened the orange juice before hearing the release of the cork echo throughout my loft. He poured the champagne nearly to the top of both glasses as I splashed some orange juice. We picked up our drinks before looking at one another.
"Cheers," we toasted.
I opened my mouth and took two big gulps from the glass before my body shivered," That never gets any easier. Do you have any clients today?"
"Yeah, not until later," he winced, worsening his hangover.
"How late do you work?" I asked before finishing my mimosa.
His response was a half-lidded wink.
"You're such a whore," I giggled before mixing another drink.
"You're a prude," he retorted.
"Who knows? Maybe not for long," I smiled.
"Now that's what I like to hear," he gave as much enthusiasm as possible.
I gathered for work a few hours later and stopped at the employee alleyway entrance. Did I want to deal with drunk assholes on a busy night like tonight? The door swung open before I could think anymore, and Tanya brought empty boxes.
"Wanna get your sexy ass in there and help out?" she gruffed while tossing them off to the side.
"Yeah," I responded and followed her inside. I scoured the room and saw dozens of people waiting at the bar. The rest stood around drinking and being loud, "Is it two yet?"
"Ha ha, funny," she smiled. It's the weekend, and it's only 8 p.m."
"Yeah, but this alcohol is starting to kick my ass," I groaned and pulled half of my hair back.
"Well, we're stuck here together, and there's nothing we can do about it right now," she scoffed before pouring two shots of Glenlivet.
I looked down and began twisting my long hair around in circles on the crown of my head before pushing a hair stick through it. Tanya presented me with a shot glass, and she knew this was just what I needed to shut me up. I smirked, and we rattled our glasses before drinking.
"Woah!" she hollered, "Now get it together, girl!"
"Let's do this," I concurred and approached my first customer.
Four hours fly by as I turn left and right, mixing drinks and taking tips. As soon as the current cocktails become complete, there's always more and more to take their place. Before my mind can even process the drinks, I must make my hands do the work for me most of the time. It's almost like riding a bike. You stumble at first, but all that's left is muscle memory once you get it. Most of the younger crowd began to disperse from drinking too much too fast, and soon, very few people remained. I glance down at the clock on my phone.
"Hey," Tanya greeted with cash, "Tips for the night. I stay at this shitty job for this reason."
I smiled at her, peeked into my tip bucket, and was pleasantly surprised, "Every creepy drunk old man trying to take you home makes it much more worth it."
"Right?" she gestured half of her cash towards me.
"You keep it; you made more and worked longer than me," I said while cleaning pint glasses, "I can just take that bucket home and be good."
"Are you sure?" She tilted her head as she looked down at the cash I had yet to sort.
"Yeah, take home your money, girl!" I tried to mimic her.
Her hand retracted to her hip as her eyes narrowed on me, "It only works when I do it."
"I know," I laughed before hugging her goodbye. Do you want me to walk you to your car?"
"I think I can handle myself," she firmly grasped her mace in her right hand.
"Take care."
"Bye!"
I turned back to the bar and cleaned more of the pint glasses.
"I hope not all older people are 'creepy' to you," I heard a more profound sensual woman's voice.
My body tenses slightly, and my hands place the clean glass on the drain. I thought everyone had left. I tilted my head and was at a loss for words. This woman was stunning. Her dark red hair fell slightly below her shoulders, accentuating her large breasts. The deep v in her crimson dress exposed her cleavage, decorated with a long hanging diamond necklace. My gaze lifted as I examined her face more closely. The neutral tones in her makeup allowed her brown eyes to be the center of attention on her ovular face. The slightly accentuated widow's peak began to form due to age, but the dark lighting made it less visible. Her earrings matched her necklace and the ring on her wedding finger. My eyes caught a glimpse while the glass of wine graced her lips as she took a sip before placing it down. Who was someone like her doing in a low-end bar like this? She didn't belong here.
Slowly, I approached her, " No, sorry about that."
A small smile began to form across her crimson red lips, "I don't take offense. I am older, though," her eyes were locked onto mine, and she drank the last of her wine, "May I have another glass?"
"I was just messing around with my friend," I continued, "I didn't mean anything by it."
She didn't respond; she only moved her empty wine glass in a circle while still locking my gaze. Her eyes hint at mystery, hunger, and yearning. She pushed the wine glass towards me, breaking my train of thought.
"What were you having?" I asked.
"Cabernet," the low rumble in her voice made my mind rush. I looked around the well and could not find the bottle, "She had it set off to the side since it was a more luxurious brand."
I looked to my right and opened the cabinet we had reserved for expensive liquors. My hand seized the handle, pulling the door free before I took out the bottle and brought it back.
"You have enough for one more glass," I stated.
"Why don't you have it?" she offered.
I read the bottle, Scarecrow, and part of me was tempted, "I probably shouldn't."
"You shouldn't, or you don't want to?" she reasoned.
"I'm not supposed to drink on the clock," I clarified.
She scanned the bar, and I followed suit to see she was the only remaining customer. Why am I searching for a reason right now? Am I really that nervous?
"I don't think anyone here would mind," she said.
She was right. My boss was gone, and I was locking up for the night. Was there a reason not to? Why was I so abrasive when it's only a glass of wine? Am I still arguing with myself right now? Why am I thinking about this so much? No wonder I'm still a virgin.
"Everything alright?" her voice broke through the rambling in my head.
"No-Yes, I mean, my bad," I stammered before raising the bottle and drinking from its content. The sharp, crisp grape taste hit the back of my throat and sent a heated vibration down my stomach as I swallowed. It was smooth.
Her eyebrows lifted in approval, and a giggle escaped her lips before drinking from her glass.
"Am I entertaining?" I mused.
"So eager," she motioned to the bottle, "I used to be the same when I was younger."
"You can't be much older than me," the white lie slithered before drinking more.
"I'll take that as a compliment," she replied. The sensuality in her tone kept drawing me closer to her, making her more inviting.
"What brings you to a bar this late?" I conversed.
"I have everything I could need," she drank more, "Homes, cars, money, a good husband. Even after all these things, you can still feel unsatisfied."
I wasn't sure how to respond. A rush of heat vibrated as I finished the last of the contents in the bottle. This wine was making me feel different but in a good way. My spine relaxed, and I leaned over, not realizing it was closer to her.
"Good?" she asked.
"Very," I answered.
She smelled like black vanilla with hints of pear and gardenia. It was warm, sweet, and breathtaking. The way she looked and carried herself was both enrapting and intoxicating. Her glass touched my lips, and my eyes closed as my head tilted back. I could barely breathe as my body began to ripple, the anticipation of what would follow. The contents flooded my mouth before rushing down my throat and slightly overflowing down my right cheek. The drop gliding slowly down was stopped by a warm hand. My head lowered, and my eyes opened upon her heavy-lidded gaze. What was going on? What is this feeling? Most of all, who is she?
"Satisfied?" she nearly purred through her lips.
My mouth opened, and no sound came out. While taking a deep breath, my knees quivered as my mouth grew dry. I shifted more weight to my braced arms on the bar to prevent stumbling, closing the gap between us. Why was I becoming drunk this fast? Heat rushed throughout my body as my face flushed. It was a sensation I would like to hold onto forever.
"Always," I whispered.
Her eyes locked onto my lips as her tongue razed hers. The warmth of her fingertips lightly caressed my left cheek, and my eyes instinctively sealed themselves. She was gentle and tender to the touch, almost like an artist admiring their work. Her lips pressed onto mine, and I felt a yearning desire burn deep within me. She was gentle yet commanding in her wants and was unafraid to express them. The soft hand was now behind my neck, pulling me into her tender force. My body leaned over the bar as our tongues rubbed against one another intensely. I tried breathing with no success, and she wrapped her other hand around me, pulling me over the middle of the bar. My toes were on their very tips as I grasped the edge of the bar top with both hands. I tried leaning back slightly to catch a breath of air, and she refused my attempt to disconnect from her. What do I do? Everything was becoming fuzzy, and my hands felt like they were going numb. My legs began to weaken-
Crash!
The glass shattered on the tile floor, but her hands firmly grasped behind my neck. While gasping for air, I slightly opened my eyes—her intense, hungry gaze connected to mine.
"Now that was satisfying," she whispered before releasing me. I watched as she grabbed her purse and reached inside, "Thanks for the drink, beautiful."
I was speechless as she strolled towards the front doors and exited the bar. What just happened? Why did she leave so abruptly? These questions ran through my head as I grabbed a broom and dustpan. Once I finished sweeping up the broken glass, I saw something on the bar top out of my right eye. I saw three hundred dollar bills in the spot she once stood in not too long ago. Maybe she just used me, but it was still a sensation I had never felt before, and it came from her.