by Naomi Niles
I went home only so I could change and head over to Finley’s. I turned in my white, high-collared blouse and navy blue skirt for jeans and a black tank top. I ran a brush through my hair purely out of habit and stared at myself in the mirror. I looked so different even to myself that it was scary. When had I stopped recognizing the girl in the mirror? She looked tired and bored and it didn’t do her any favors.
I turned away from my reflection and drove down to the bar. Joni was already there waiting tables, and Zach was standing behind the bar. “Hi,” I said as I slipped behind the bar next to him.
He looked at me with raised eyebrows. “What are you doing here?” he asked.
“I work here,” I reminded him.
“Not for another couple of hours,” Zach replied. “You’re working the night shift remember?”
“I know that,” I said and left it at that.
I could feel his eyes on me. “What?” I demanded turning around and trying to sound casual.
“This is the fourth time in so many weeks that you’ve come early to work,” Zach told me. “You’re making the rest of us look bad kid.”
I smiled. Zach and I had become friends when I first started working at Finley’s a year ago. It had been just after my divorce and I had been in need of some new people and some new experiences. He was funny and honest and that made it easier for me to get my mind off things.
“Sorry,” I shrugged. “But I figured I’d just come down here and help out.”
Zach fixed his dark eyes on me. “You thought you’d come here and help out?” he repeated. “Again?”
“Well … yeah.”
He came a little closer and leaned in. “This is a little piece of advice from me to you: never, never help out when you’re not being paid to help out.”
I rolled my eyes. “What do you need help with?” I asked.
“Seriously, Elizabeth,” Zach said with some frustration. “You realize this is not a hospital or a homeless shelter right? Our boss is a greedy, heartless bastard with a fat ass and an ugly moustache; why help him out?”
I raised my eyebrows playfully. “What does his ugly moustache have to do with anything?"
“It’s hideous,” Zach replies. “And that offends me.”
I laughed, shaking my head. “In any case, I don’t see it as helping him out. I see it as helping my friends out.”
Zach snorted. “Friends?”
“Joni and Heather are my … well, ok, I’m friendly with them at least.”
“And that makes all the difference,” Zach said sarcastically.
“Why are gay men so sarcastic?” I huffed.
“It’s a natural talent,” Zach replied with a wink.
“Whatever,” I said, and sighed internally. “I think I’m getting too old for words like that.”
“That’s your problem,” Zach said handing me a stack of glasses to wipe down. “You set all these time limits for yourself and all it does it create unnecessary pressure. So what if you’re twenty-nine and stuck in the town you were born in? So what if you’re twenty-nine and single? So what if you’re twenty-nine and still using ‘whatever?’”
“First of all, I’m twenty-eight,” I corrected. “And second of all, those things do matter.”
“Why?”
“Because … because I was meant to do something with my life. I was meant to be someone.”
“You’re someone regardless,” Zach said firmly. “Forget about all those goals you set for yourself when you were fourteen and you thought you could conquer the world. Those goals were probably unrealistic anyhow. You just need to live your life."
“That’s what I tried to do,” I insisted. “It didn’t work out so well for me.”
“Ok, so you had a bad experience,” Zach acknowledged. “You picked the wrong guy; all you need to do is try again.”
“I’m not sure I even want to get married again,” I said.
“That’s beside the point,” Zach went on. “In order to figure that out, you need to get out there and start dating.”
I sighed. “It’s only been a year.”
Zach gave me a reproachful look. “You’re not a widow, Elizabeth. You divorced your asshole of a husband, and when that happens, there’s no mourning period. You get out there and get back in the game.”
“I needed some recovery time,” I pointed out. “I needed to learn to trust again.”
“Fair enough,” Zach nodded. “I think one year is plenty.”
I turned from him. “Easier said than done.”
“You realize that every other guy that comes into this bar gives you the once over, right?” Zach said. “I’m gay and even I know that you’re hot as hell. With that red hair and those blue eyes, you’re like a Disney princess, except with curves.”
I laughed. “Thanks; at least that’s one childhood goal I’ve achieved.”
Zach looked at her curiously. “I can’t tell: sincerity or sarcasm?”
“Sarcasm,” I replied. “I was a tomboy as a child.”
“You know I’m right,” Zach said with confidence.
“I know,” I agreed. “The thing is, there’s only so much I can do in this town. Maybe you’re right and the guys who come in here check me out, but the thing is, I’ve known them all in some capacity my whole life. Sometimes I feel like this town is so small, there’s no room in it for big dreams.”
“Then you need to think about whether this town is right for you.”
“I do,” I admitted. “Every day. It’s just that sometimes you get stuck.”
“Sometimes you get stuck?” Zach asked. “Or sometimes you get scared?”
I had no answer for him.
Chapter Three
Dylan
“Yeah!” Vic practically yelled as he downed another mug of beer.
“Take it easy buddy,” I laughed. “If you’re not careful, you’re gonna end up hitting on another man.”
“That happened one time,” Vic defended himself as the rest of the boys descended into raucous laughter. “And you have to admit, he was pretty.”
I laughed. “You stupid shit, you know you can’t handle your liquor.”
“Why would I want to?” Vic asked reasonably. “It’s Friday night, baby!”
Again the boys raised their glasses in celebration of the fact. The smell of beer and smoke filled the room and I breathed it in. It had become a comforting scent at this point; anything that didn’t smell of blood and sweat pretty much did the trick. A few girls walked past us and I couldn’t help but turn my head to take them in.
The one that caught my eye was tall and skinny. She had dirty-blonde hair and dark eyes that were rimmed with eyeliner and mascara. She was wearing a sequined halter and low-rise jeans that displayed the tattoo on the small of her back.
“That was the second time those girls walked past us,” Antony said leaning in. “I think that was an invitation.”
I smirked. “The night is young,” I said, raising my glass. “There’ll be enough time later for a fuck.”
“Speak for yourself,” Antony said smacking me on the back. “It’s never too early for a fuck.”
I saluted him as he moved in the direction of the girls. I wondered if I should tell him to leave the skinny, blonde for me, but then I stopped myself. There were plenty of women to go around.
“Hi, handsome; want a refill?”
The waitress who addressed me was short and curvy and I felt my blood rise just looking at her. She had big, brown eyes that some people might describe as “come hither” and a way of moving that invited me to look her up and down.
“I wouldn’t mind,” I replied as I wrapped my arm around her waist and pulled her towards me. “But I’d rather you share a drink with me.”
“I don’t drink on the job,” she smiled flirtatiously, and I knew I was being encouraged to keep hitting on her. I didn’t know if she was really interested in me and I didn’t care. It was just nice to have the kind of mindless back and forth that held no ex
pectations and no promises.
“Well maybe you should,” I said to her. “That would make your job so much more fun.”
“I don’t know about that,” she replied. “It’s already plenty fun.”
As she spoke, she pressed her body up against me and I could feel her breasts against my chest. “The moment I saw you I had you pegged for a tease.”
She batted her eyes. “Why thank you,” she replied. Then she leaned in a little closer and whispered in my ear. “My shift ends at twelve; meet me by the bar and I’ll show you just how much of a tease I can be.”
I smiled. “You’ve got yourself a deal.”
She winked and walked away, and I turned back to the boys, some of whom had watched the exchange.
“Man, do you have a way with women,” Vic said with admiration. “I wish that every woman who looked at me wanted to fuck me just as easily. Malcolm, watch and learn; you’re looking at the master here.”
“There’s nothing to learn,” I said cockily. “Either you’ve got it or you haven’t. I have it, Vic does not.”
“You fucker,” Vic snorted as he grabbed me in a light chokehold. I laughed and fought him off as the boys cheered us on. That was why we came to places like this in the first place. They made us feel normal; they allowed us to feel irresponsible and carefree. For a few moments, we could forget the jobs that defined out lives and be normal guys hitting on hot girls in crowded bars.
“You know who’s top dog around here, don’t you, Bull Frog?” Vic said to me, his tone slick with teasing.
“Oh I think everyone knows who that is, and it sure as hell isn’t you,” I replied.
“That sounds like a challenge to me,” Vic said, raising his hands in the air. “I think we should settle this once and for all.”
“You’re on buddy,” I said. “What do you suggest?"
“An arm wrestling match.”
I laughed. “Let’s go.”
Instantly the boys got their glasses off the little round table in front of us and Vic and I got into position. We had these little top dog challenges probably once a month when Vic got hammered and decided he could take me on. A couple of minutes later, I claimed my inevitable victory as the boys cheered me on and patted Vic on the back.
“Damn it,” he growled. “Next time I’m gonna take you down.”
I winked at him. “Keep trying buddy, keep trying.”
I bought Vic another pint of beer to balm his fourth consecutive loss and moved towards the bathroom. I was headed back to my table when I caught sight of her. She was staring at me with blatant desire and that was something I just couldn’t ignore. The alcohol had worked its way through my body and the buzz it had given me had also sparked other desires. I changed course and walked straight for her.
“Hi,” I said. “Can I buy you a drink?”
She smiled. “You can.”
She had a sexy body on her, made more obvious by the skin-tight dress that she wore. Her dark hair fell to her shoulders and her eyes were heavily made up. I bought her a drink and sat down beside her. She angled her body towards me and made direct eye contact as she sipped her drink. I knew she was trying to be seductive, but it was coming off a little comical. It didn’t matter; she didn’t have to be my friend. She just had to be willing.
“My name is Elise,” she introduced.
“I’m Dylan,” I replied.
“You’re a big guy, Dylan,” she said after it was clear I wasn’t going to force the conversation.
“I guess so,” I replied.
“I saw you over there with your buddies,” she continued. “You guys look like Marines.”
“Navy,” I told her.
“No way,” she as he coal rimmed eyes went wide with excitement. “No wonder you’re so buff.” As she spoke, she reached out and cupped my bicep. “Are you even flexing?” she asked.
“No,” I replied shortly, trying to keep the boredom from my voice.
“Wow,” she said. “That is so amazing. You are so hot.”
“Thanks,” I replied, hoping that my tone would encourage her to change the topic. She seemed completely oblivious, however, and I sensed that this wasn’t her first drink of the night. “I was here with a bunch of my girlfriends.”
“Where are they now?” I asked.
“Around,” she answered vaguely. “I wanted to stay here and talk to you.”
I wanted to put an end to the conversation as fast as possible so I moved in a little closer. “Why talk when there are more fun things we could do?”
She stared at me for a second and then she giggled as a blush crept up her cheeks. “I’ve always wondered what it would be like to be in a Navy base.”
“Let’s go to your place,” I said abruptly.
“Oh,” she said looking a little taken back. Then she smiled in excitement. “Ok, let’s go to mine.”
“Come on,” I said as I pulled her from her seat. She followed me until we got outside, then slowly, she slipped her hand around my arm. There was nothing romantic about the gesture. She just wanted people to see that she was with a big, strong Navy guy.
I shook her off gently as I flagged down a cab and then I helped her inside. I wasn’t sure if she was shaky because of the alcohol or because she just wanted an excuse to knock into me.
“It must be so, so exciting to be a SEAL,” she went on once we were on the road. “You must have such interesting stories.”
“A few,” I said evasively.
“Like what?”
“They’re classified missions,” I replied. “I can’t really share them with you.”
“Oh, of course,” she said as her eyes went wide and I could almost imagine how she would describe me to her friends the next day. “You must be so brave.”
I shrugged.
“You must have been all over the world,” she went on.
“More than most,” I nodded.
“Wow; I’ve always wanted to travel.”
“It’s not really travelling for me,” I said patiently. “It’s work.”
“Of course it is,” she nodded. “You must go through so much training.”
She didn’t seem comfortable with silence and I certainly wasn’t interested in the conversation, so I leaned in and kissed her. That succeeded in distracting her and she practically jumped on top of me, her hands grasping at the back of my neck. I heard the cab driver clear his throat, but I ignored it. This was what I needed: a warm, willing body on top of mine.
I could feel the stirrings of my hard on just as the driver pulled to a stop in front of a block of large apartment buildings. “Come on,” she said exiting the cab in a hurry. I paid the driver and followed her into the building. The moment we were inside her apartment she jumped on me, kissing my neck and sucking on my ears.
“You’re so fucking hot,” she said breathing heavily. “I’ve never been with a guy as hot as you.”
I found her couch and threw her down on to it, hoping the impact would shut her up. She laughed when she landed and reached out for me. I pulled my shirt off and got on top of her; her eyes were bright with expectation. She unzipped my jeans and pushed them down, and then she stuck her hand down my boxers. “Your dick is so big,” she said, and I wished I could tell her to just stop talking.
I pushed my jeans to the floor and my phone fell out of the back pocket. I ignored it and concentrated on removing her bra. Her breasts were large and rounded and I bent my head and took a nipple into my mouth as she moaned loudly. I could feel her hands on my back; she was digging her nails into my skin, but I didn’t mind. This was what I was after: the mindless, chaotic pleasure of sex. She was warm, willing, and vocal. I pushed myself inside her, anchoring myself against the couch so that we wouldn’t fall.
The flashing of a bright light turned my attention to my phone on the floor. I couldn’t see who had called, and at that particular moment, I really didn’t care. I reached down with my right hand and flipped the phone over so that the light was exti
nguished. I turned my attention back to the woman lying under me and lost myself in the only rehabilitation that had ever helped.
Chapter Four
Elizabeth
The bar had filled up by the time ten o’clock came around and I was busy mixing drinks behind the counter just like Zach had taught me. Zach had finished his shift an hour ago, which left me in the company of a bunch of half-drunk men who reeked of smoke and desperation.
“Hi, Bob,” I greeted to the large man that took a seat at the bar. “What can I get you today?”
“Whisky,” he grunted.
“Hard day at work?” I asked.
“Construction always is.”
I nodded with sympathy and passed him his drink before I walked down the counter refilling empty glasses and making sure everyone had been served. At the end of the bar was a new guy that I didn’t recognize. He had soft brown eyes and dark hair and he was smiling at me as though he knew me.
“Can I get you something?” I asked.
“Gin and tonic,” he replied.
“You’re new here,” I observed.
“What makes you think that?”
“It’s a small town,” I replied.
He smiled. “I’m passing through,” he said. “I’m on my way to Dallas.”
“Sounds exciting,” I said and immediately felt stupid. Dallas wasn’t even out of Texas. He would think I was some ignorant, small-town hick who had never been out of my little bubble.
“I suppose,” he replied without much enthusiasm and I realized that he had been to places that were probably far more exciting than Dallas.
“You live in Dallas?” I asked to cover up my previous statement.
“No, I live in New York actually,” he replied.
“Whoa,” I breathed. “What brings you to this part of the country?”
“I’m writing a book on the South,” he replied. “So I guess you could say this is research.”
“That sounds interesting,” I said as my curiosity piqued. “What kind of books do you write?”
“Books that map out the geography and history of certain places,” he answered. “They’re not really the kind of books that make best seller lists.”