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She liked it; it was exhilarating. The crowds, the music, the intensity of working here were finally starting to grow on her. The music was exactly what she needed – focus on mainstream heavy rock, stuff she’d hear on the radio stations. The crowds were sometimes another story; the only difficult thing about working as a bartender was serving the drunks. Ironic, yes. It’s strange how transplanting yourself can change your entire life, but that was exactly what she was looking for.
When she was really honest with herself she admitted she hardly looked the part of the bitter, hardened bartender. Of course, she’d only been at it for six months or so, but people still commented on how out-of-place she looked at The Bends. She was blonde and she refused to cut her hair; it was the one thing of herself that still reminded her of her father… he loved the buttery colour and always called her Goldilocks… so now her hair was halfway down her back and always soft in appearance, never attacked with hairspray or gels like most of the girls. Her figure was slender and she was average height, and she dressed to show herself off. Her job demanded that she dress to reveal – not that her boss ever told her so, but it was clear that tips were better if she did. Tonight she put on a black leather corset and miniskirt to match, with knee-high boots. She wrapped a long strand of black leather around her upper left arm, ballet-shoe style, and walked into her bathroom to apply makeup.
Unlike the other bartenders, she chose to keep her makeup to a minimum. She learned that you didn’t need much other than some black mascara and a really great, deep red lipstick. After a final look in her mirror, she called a cab with her cordless phone and sat down to wait.
He looked great, he knew he did. Jet black, straight hair, gelled and spiked. Black leather pants and a choker around his neck. He knew that The Bends didn’t require shirts, and it was always hot and sweaty in the pit anyway. There was nothing left to do but make sure that the bruise on his eye didn’t show too badly, a final glance at the bedroom to make sure she had passed out, and he was out the door.
The place was already packed by the time she got to work and she quickly got behind the bar to start serving. The barmaids were obviously glad she’d showed up; with only two bartenders behind the bar for the past two hours they were feeling the pressure. Katelyn and Derek were pouring drinks as fast as they could but a club capacity of 900 meant that two bartenders simply weren’t enough. And there was a great band tonight, one they’d been advertising for a couple of weeks now. The music was the real reason she’d applied for work here. It satisfied an aching anger in her that she couldn’t easily explain. Katelyn greeted her warmly as she flew past to get more lemon wedges and Derek nodded at her from the other end of the bar. Back where she was comfortable. She mixed a rye and coke and grabbed two bottles of beer from the cooler and handed them to the barmaid, calculating quickly in her head.
“Nine-fifty,” she said to Ashley.
The barmaid paid her quickly from her change box. “Nice to see you, hon,” she smiled. “It’s chaos in here.”
She smiled. These were the moments she liked best. The moments when she got to forget who she was to just mindlessly serve drinks for four or five hours. A customer walked up and asked for a Black Russian and she mixed the vodka and Kahlua with incredible precision before handing it out to him.
“Four-fifty,” she smiled.
When he walked in it was her blonde hair that bahis firmaları caught his eye first. That beauty behind the bar was at least part of the reason he came here every weekend, he had to acknowledge that much to himself. The bar was overflowing with people and he hoped for anonymity tonight. He knew it was off-limits, but tonight he had to find out who she was. He walked toward the bar after paying the five-dollar cover charge and headed straight for her end of the bar. He knew she was primarily bartending for the waitresses but it was an irresistible temptation. And what would you do if you were met with an irresistible temptation?
She saw him coming towards her and swallowed involuntarily. He really did look a little like a movie star; maybe a little like Antonio Banderas or something, but there was a sadness in his eyes that she knew was reflected in her own. She found herself wondering what he’d be like in bed, and then she caught herself and asked him what he’d like. No fraternizing with the customers, she warned herself. She liked this job, wanted to keep it.
“What can I get for you?” she asked.
“What’s good?” he replied.
She smiled. “I drink beer, babe, I’m no help. You want a drink?”
“Sure. Give me a beer then.” He grinned at her.
She reached into the cooler and pulled out a Bud, the most common beer in the Bends and therefore the least personal. “Three bucks.”
He reached into the pocket of his leather jeans, pulling the waistline down slightly to reveal a thin trail of hair. She shivered slightly.
“Three bucks it is,” he smiled. “What’s your name?”
She hesitated for a moment and looked down the bar. There was a lull in the action and Derek was actually standing still. Okay, no problem if I have a brief conversation, she decided. “Daisy,” she said.
He looked startled. “Really? In here?”
“Yeah, in here,” she laughed. It was a little out of place. “Okay, I’ll take the bait. What’s yours?”
“Jaxon,” he smiled. “Does it pass inspection?”
“Yeah, it’s neat. You must’ve had liberal parents.”
“I did indeed. Very perceptive.” He grinned again.
The band started their second set and all of a sudden conversation was out of the question. People began to move again. “Sorry, Jaxon,” she yelled.
“No problem, it’s your job,” he yelled back. “I’ll be back later.”
“”Eleven-thirty,” she hollered. Did he hear? Or did he just walk away?
At eleven-thirty she stepped outside the main doors of the bar for a cigarette and some cool air. It was getting unbearably hot in there and she was only half-done her shift. She got a fifteen-minute break and she planned to spend it outside. She had forgotten completely about him – when he left she started serving drinks and she didn’t stop until break time. By the time she got outside and remembered, she couldn’t stand the idea of going back in. The air slipped down her skin and cooled her off considerably; it wasn’t exactly a warm night. The skin between her thighs felt deliciously free and the stickiness of the heat was gone within minutes. She looked for a moment at the door and saw him walk outside.
“Hey, Jaxon,” she yelled.
His eyes brightened when he saw her. “I thought you’d left without me,” he teased. “Getting some air?”
“Yeah. God is it hot in there! I couldn’t stand taking my break in the back room.” She shuddered.
“I can’t say I blame you. I came out here for a breath myself.” He looked at her longingly as she took a long drag of her cigarette. What he wouldn’t give to go home with her tonight! But she kaçak iddaa probably had a boyfriend.
“So who you going home with?” he asked coyly.
“Oh, God,” she snorted. “Myself.” She corrected herself. “Sorry, I know I’m not supposed to sound so cynical. Um, I’m happy to be alone! Sure!”
He laughed. “Well, count your blessings, Daisy-girl.”
She looked at him quizzically. “Where’s your girlfriend?”
He hesitated. “No girlfriend,” he said brightly. “Now will you take me home?”
She laughed. “We’ll have to see about that, Jaxon. We certainly will. But my break’s over. Wanna walk me back in?”
She got back to work quickly and soon fell back into the rhythm of serving. One drink, two beers. A cooler, a cocktail, three beers. The music thumped in the background and her movements mimicked the heavy drum beat. It was easy, methodical work. She was watching him pretend to mingle with the crowd; looked like he was fending people off rather than communicating with them. Their eyes met occasionally, when both happened to be looking in the same direction. She smiled involuntarily. How could this be that she could fall in love now? With everything so fucked up how could this happen?
She moved fifteen-hundred miles away from her hometown to get away from it all, after it happened. It was like she didn’t exist there anymore, they all sided with him. He was popular and she wasn’t. But he was mean, too, and she wasn’t. And she couldn’t fight him anymore. Her parents disowned her when she left him. So she moved here and quickly got the job at the Bends and became completely anonymous. She felt completely free and a little scared at her own freedom. She was young, but not young enough to be afraid of herself anymore… just young enough to be afraid of everyone else. Especially after him. Like the air outside, her freedom felt cool and slippery after the stifling heat.
What was his story? She wondered. What happened to him that could cause the purplish bruise under his eye… the one that she saw he tried to hide from her? She remembered the hiding, the lying. “No girlfriend,” she remembered. Was he lying too? Sometimes it’s hard to escape, even when you know you have to. She saw him at the Bends almost every weekend, always a little later than the average crowd. She knew he liked being alone and related to his need to be alone in a room full of people. Sometimes it’s better to be anonymous than alone.
Jaxon worked his way through the crowd toward the bar; it was approaching one-thirty. The bar would close soon and he wanted to be close to her, close enough to smell her vanilla-laced perfume again. He wanted to be close enough to see the dark space between her breasts, crushed under the smoothness of the leather. To hear her breath. After a couple of drinks he was feeling anxious, elated, exhilarated. He saw her inside himself, saw the secrecy and the desire simmering beneath the surface. And they both knew that their only enemies, the only true ones, would be themselves. Would she stop him from getting closer? Would he stop himself?
The place was emptying out and the cash was counted and locked away. She was wiping up the bar and stacking dirty glasses in the dishwasher. He walked out at the request of the bouncer but stayed near the back door. He knew she exited that way every night and that she usually had a cab waiting for her. This was the last chance, he knew. And he couldn’t stand to be away from her for another night, go home to – to what he had to go home to – and stay awake until dawn thinking about that buttery blonde hair. Tonight kaçak bahis he was risking everything to be with her. His heart was pounding and the cool night air was not made for going topless. There she was… closed the door, there’s the cab. Stop her!
“I can’t believe you waited,” she murmured. And he was touching her hair, and the scent of her body and her heat were so close, his head was swirling. The skirt rose up slightly – god, look at her thighs! She was perfect, soft, like warm cream. Their faces were close, there were little kisses, the cab was driving them to her place. And she reached up and touched his skin, his chest, and every part of him twitched and shivered in response. They were so close her breath left moisture on his skin, he could see the tops of her breasts pushed together inside the corset – he suddenly felt an inexplicable hatred and envy of her corset and moved to free her from it – until the cab stopped and his brain had to function, yes, he had to walk with her, but oh, she was fantastic. Leading him forward to her door, the keys coming out – she was taking him inside.
“Want a drink?” she asked, then laughed. “Must be habit.”
He cleared his throat. “You, I want you,” he said huskily. She smiled and led him towards a dimly lit corridor, a room. He was inside her bedroom, and it was soft and light and shadowy, like her. But he couldn’t resist her anymore, and his hands touched her bare shoulders, her soft arms. The leather strap. Leave it. He reached behind her and heard the teeth of the zipper giving in under his clumsy grasp. Her back, she’s lit by the candles and her skin is positively glowing. The corset dropped to the floor and she’s fumbling with his zipper now, yes, and he’s getting harder because her hands are… almost… there… and it hurts, get the pants off… her breasts are exposed and they’re soft and creamy and perfectly round, like he knew they would be, could she be more perfect? Her eyes are shining, like she was made for this moment – maybe she was. Maybe they both were. The skirt was on still – leave it. Fuck her relentlessly with her leather skirt on. Does she wear panties? He was going insane with the thought of soft, girlish cotton touching her… there. But he growled gently and tried to move slow, remember all the details. She sat on the bed and he saw it, the shining between her thighs, wetness, she wants it… give it to her, she likes it. No panties. All night, no panties. God! He laid her gently back and guided himself… oh god, they were touching… oh god oh god… he’s inside. She cried out and felt herself widening for him, never, never stop fucking her. Thoughts were meaningless and the only thing he saw or felt was swirling colour and fucking her. Fucking, fucking, fucking her. And her leather skirt was brushing slightly against his thighs and somehow it was better fucking her this way, leaving her some privacy. He liked her secrets, oh, he liked it amazingly.
He woke beside her in the early dawn, the sky was red and the candles were burnt to nothing. He had a raging headache but it was her face that made everything worth it. She looked like an angel asleep, her hair scattered out around her. He knew he’d never forget the hair, after everything. He knew he had to leave, that no matter what he would pay for this night, but right now everything was quiet and perfect and it was like ripping out his stomach to leave her. Should he wake her and tell her he was leaving? Or just leave? After hesitating a moment, one last look at her soft, pouting lips… no lipstick now, just soft and pink…but he knew he could never wake her from her sleep. He dressed quietly and left her in the light of the sunrise.
Do they meet again? What’s Daisy’s reaction upon being left alone? Give me your feedback and maybe we can hear Jaxon’s story…
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