She keeps reminding herself of how much money she’s going to make tonight because she knows that’s the only way she’ll get through it without setting someone on fire. They’re down one bartender so they pulled their DJ and people are being assholes that they have to put money in the jukebox and there’s no karaoke tonight. She’s thanking God for the latter and couldn’t care less about the former, but she really fucking hates the constant complaining.
“The fuck even is this music?” some random college ass whines.
She squints into the air at the invisible sound waves, as if they’ll answer for her so she can speak to this moron as little as possible. “AC/DC?” she replies with a small sigh and a large dose of eye roll suppression. “Can I get you something to drink?”
“Two vodka Red Bulls,” his friend says, scanning her up and down. “And your phone number.” He leers and she wishes for a flamethrower.
She smiles sickly sweet. “Real original,” she deadpans. “Two douche drinks, comin’ up.” She walks away from their misogynist protestations and rounds the games area.
Usually, the people who hang out back there get their own drinks, but she runs through every once in a while to collect empties and trash. Plus, there’re two guys back there tonight who are hot as fuck, hustling frat boys out of their trust fund folding money, and tipping her like a couple of daddies.
I heard it’s Thirsty Thursday, so here’s my contribution.
This includes but is not limited to: eye fucking, Forehead Kisses, Dean Playing Big Brother Until He Isn’t, a bathroom Blow Job, Shower Sex that isn’t complicated, Ass Play, and lots tongue-y things
IncogNinja 