Salty

Five | Dirty Martinis

⚠️ Sexual Content

Five | Sloan

Mulligan's remained packed with people. The patrons surrounding us had become a blur, merely background noise to a conversation that had me laughing so hard my sides ached. My grocery store stranger and I had taken up people watching. Both of us leaned back in our seats, discreetly assuming what these people enjoyed in the bedroom. I didn't even know how we had landed on this conversation, but was thrilled to be here.

"She's a Beverly." I sipped from the tiny straw of my drink and nodded towards a petite woman, dark mom-bobbed hair, and somewhere around her mid-forties.

"You think so?" He rubbed at the scruff of his chin, eying the woman carefully.

"Mmhmm." I was so certain I sat up straighter, ready for another one of our little debates. "She schedules sex with her husband, Richard, monthly. It's his favorite day of the month and her least. They only do missionary, and she washes the sheets and Lysols the bedroom afterwards."

"Ouch." He clutches his chest. "Shots fired at the husband."

"You don't agree?" My brows lifted, wondering how he couldn't see it. I felt pretty good about this one.

He took his time, watching the woman on the dance floor closely as he pushed up the sleeves of his black oxford further. His muscle would not allow much give. I enjoyed the way he would cock his head to eye the person with complete focus, as if he didn't want to make a mistake. I quickly got the impression he enjoyed being right.

"No, I agree, but would like to add to it if I may?"

"Yes, by all means..."

"She owned a sex toy once. She felt obligated to buy it during one of those kinky bachelorette parties for a niece who is much more fun than herself. She used it, liked it, had no clue what to do with the disgusting thing after, and threw it in the trash. She never spoke of it again, and it haunts her. Best orgasm she ever had."

My laughter filled the bar as I tossed my head back and let loose. This wasn't the first time my eyes dampened with these giggles tonight, but this one was so good they were spilling down my cheeks. My new friend hunched over, laughing just as loud.

"Her poor husband!" I smacked my bare knee, continuing to snicker. "Richard must be terrible in the sack."

"We can't all be winners, Richard."

My head shook, my smile unwilling to remove itself from my face. I patrolled the room from my seat, looking for our next victim. When I heard the clink of fresh glasses behind us, it gave me an idea.

"What about him?" I motioned over my shoulder to the bartender. "What do you feel his story is?"

I was banking on gut intuition that even though this guy lived upstairs and has a regular drink at this bar, that he was not friends with the man working it. At no point had the two of them even spoken. It was a series of hand motions and deflected glares.

Shifting uneasily in his seat, he didn't bother to look behind us. His smile was now forced as he took the fresh drink and tipped it back until its contents had diminished. There was a sting in his expression and it didn't seem to be from the drink.

"He is a prick. A wannabe musician who plays bar out of spite. Has issues with everyone around him, including friends and family, because he's jealous that they've made it. And he enjoys women that aren't his to enjoy. Blondes mostly."

Wow.

Oddly specific. He definitely knows him. Before I could ask follow-up questions, he motioned to a couple who were making out in the center of the dance floor. Their tongues could not be shoved any further down each other's throats, and the entire sight made me nauseous. Gross.