Love 'Em & Leave 'Em (Lauren Jauregui)

Brownie

The battle is only beginning. The mysterious brunette's lips mambo against mine, and with every slight movement the temperature seems to raise higher. She pulls our hips together before pushing me onto the bed, landing gracefully over my body, straddling my waist. My hands trickle underneath her shirt and dance up her bare torso, only stopping when they feel the sides of her bra. Her body shivers as she lets out a grunt; I smile into the kiss. One hand sidetracks down my body until she reaches the waist of my pants. Her fingernails tickle my tummy, yet I internally beg her to go on... 

I gasp. Only four hours after I fell asleep, my alarm pounds me awake instantly. I shake off whatever just happened. Another alarm, another day. I don't even dread workdays anymore. I do what I have to do in order to just live. It's hard, but I have no other choice. 

In a quick minute I'm up and at 'em, auto-mode initiating. I peek out my window. It's a cloudy one. Usually I can see the moon right beside the tall trees, but tonight all is bare. 

I jump into the shower, turning the water to more than half-way hot. It nearly scalds my skin, but it's better than what any coffee could do. I do what I normally do: dry off, change, dry my hair, do my hair, do my makeup, grab my already-made lunch and go. Today I'm earlier than usual: the clock in my 2008 Honda Accord strikes 9:28 PM. On average, getting to the bar takes 8 minutes. 12 on weekends. 6 on Mondays. My bar rules because there's a separate, small lot for staff. Thank God I don't have to deal with finding parking like the rest of the bar-goers. 

I pull into my usual space at 9:37 and head for the elevator. Since it's a staff lot, the elevator leads to the back of the bar, behind where anyone besides us are allowed. I enter through the back as usual and clock in at 9:50 after storing away my goods and pinning my name tag on. I make a mental note to have it replaced. Not that anyone except the perverts care about a bartenders name, but I still like to look classy. 

The first two hours start as they normally do: the drunks aren't quite in, though you can spot the early birds; mostly it's just dudes yelling at TVs or playing pool with their buddies, always overpowering what lowly abundant females are present. But after those two hours, the original partying men are drunk. Not drunk off their minds, but drunk. Even the women are tipsy enough, though they leave much earlier than the men, for the most part. Coffee is a must over my first 10 minute break, and, as usual, the span between that and my lunch break drags on as slowly as a bulldog in 110 degree weather. The good thing about lunch break, aside from the not talking to weirdos or actually doing my job, is that my shift is nearly over. I like to take my lunch so that my last break is just before my shift ends. 

Anyway, lunch ends much too quickly and the clock strikes 4 AM, which is the last call for drinks, AKA when the drunkest of the drunk are out. It's a sickening sight to see. It's a blessing to work here to see what I choose not to do to myself. It's my inspiration to not drink as I heavily did in high school. I can't believe I ever did that... 

Behind me comes a whistle to which my attention is instantly drawn. I put on a fake smile as I groan inside at the coming interaction. But what I actually see surprises me, and lures me in. 

"Hey, Mama," A dark brunette female husks to me. If she were male, I would roll my eyes and spit out some garbage in order to get more tips. "I better get a last one in," She smiles. "Johnny Drum, on the rocks." 

I get back into my usual persona. "You got it, sis," I whip up her request and slide it on down to her when I'm near her enough. She winks and takes a deep gulp. For some reason I feel warmer than usual. "So, uh—" I stutter as I try to make conversation with this female who I find so stimulating on my eyes. "For it being this ungodly hour, your drunken stupor isn't quite a drunken stupor."