Addicted Ch. 01

Disclaimer:

This story is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to real life is purely coincidental.

***

The muffled hum of voices echoed through the tiny bar, blending with the cozy jazz music playing in the background. It was rush hour. The room, packed to the brim, made the air thick and hard to breathe. Every now and then, a breeze slipped in through the door like a savior, giving me just enough air for a deep breath.

I closed my eyes, took one, held my long face, and kept dancing my fingers around the jiggers and bottles. Smiles? No. Tips? Don't care. Thank God for the hygiene mask--perfect for covering the twitch that always crept into the corner of my mouth whenever customers tossed another sexual comment my way, asking for their drink with an "extra splash from my big jugs" or "juicy melons." I always kept everything covered under my loose suit. Still, those comments somehow translated into decent tips. I hated this job--especially because my family owned the bar. It was like turning your prison into your home. And yet, I genuinely loved bartending.

"Manhattan? Nah, we don't serve that--this is Brooklyn. Kidding. Coming right up," I grinned at one of my regulars and turned back to work.

"The fucking rush! Fucking people! I fucking quit!" a voice bellowed beside me, barely audible over the chaos. Kevin--my assistant--was shouting, fumbling around his section like always. He was 22, a college student with fair skin, brunette hair in a high-fade playboy cut, and a perpetual bad-boy smirk. Beard neatly trimmed, arms smooth, tall and lean. He played basketball for his college team and was practically worshipped by a small squad of fan girls. He loved bragging about his hookup record to me and the customers whenever it wasn't busy.

Apparently, he'd slept with plenty of "hot chicks" before settling with his girlfriend. And no, we never slept together--not because he was too young (I'm 26), but because he was way too straight to stir anything in me. All those bro handshakes, random howls, jumping into invisible slam dunks out of nowhere... plus, y'know, workplace ethics. Still, he was my bro. And no, he wasn't quitting.

"Why the fuck is there a rush on a Tuesday night?" Kevin groaned, eyes never leaving his station. "Is there some holiday I'm missing?"

"I ask myself the same thing every time it happens," I replied with a calm tone. "But hey, it is what it is. Let's survive it together."

"Sure, but I gotta leave on time--my girlfriend will freak if I'm late again. So, cleaning's all on you tonight!"

"I got you. Not like it's the first time. And you know, as a bartender, sleeping around is kinda implied, right?... No, sir," I added quickly, raising a finger at a customer trying to strike up a chat. "Busy hour. No time for that."

"Yeah, well," Kevin shrugged, "she doesn't care if I sleep with chicks. Or dudes. As long as I don't bring home STDs and still make it back in time to give her the good stuff before bed."

"Fair, fair."

Rush hour always came fast and left just as quickly. Before we even noticed, the place had started to empty. The noise settled. A few customers lingered in corners, wrapping up their conversations. Then there was one man, sitting quietly at the bar, drinking alone with a heavy look in his eyes.

"Aight, I'm out. See you next time, Misty." Kevin gave me a peace sign, backpack slung over one shoulder, flipping the sign to "CLOSED" as he leapt out the door, finishing with an air basketball shot.

"See ya." I waved back, polishing a glass in one hand and sighed deep in my chest.

Alright. Time to clean up.

Wiping here, sweeping there, refilling bottles--just another night. I chatted with Richard, our bouncer, while he sipped a non-alcoholic cocktail I'd made him before he drove home.

Richard was 46, tall and bulky, with sun-browned skin, brown hair, a shaved beard, and hairy arms. A veteran and an amateur boxer and wrestler. Married. Dad of two. And yeah, we slept together. Still do. His wife doesn't know, and he's not planning to tell her anytime soon. Wasn't the first married man I'd been with.

According to him, their marriage had devolved into a sexless roommate situation, just chores and child-rearing and going through the motions. So he took out his sexual frustration on me--and I let him. Truth be told, I liked it.

He was a good dad and a gentleman by day. But don't be fooled--he had a thick seven-inch cock and could be both tender and feral in bed. The way he'd grab my long black hair with one hand, his other gliding down my smooth, pale back, cupping and teasing my breast, playing with my nipples while kissing my shoulder and whispering in my ear--calling me his good Asian girl as he stretched my pussy from behind. Yeah. That memory alone made my knees weak.

After closing duties were done, only one customer remained--the brooding man at the bar.

"Hey. Sorry, sir, we're closed now." I approached him, trying to keep my tone firm but friendly.

He didn't respond. Just kept slowly nodding his head to some imaginary rhythm, sipping from his glass.

"Hello? Can you hear me?" I stepped closer and got a better look at his profile. Mid-thirties, white male with slightly tanned skin, messy curls, and a neatly trimmed beard. A fresh bruise darkened the corner of his mouth, and his left eye was swollen--he'd clearly been in a fight. His gaze stayed fixed on the glass in his hand, slowly swirling its contents. His face was flushed, and the sharp scent of alcohol clung to his breath.

Strange. We only served light cocktails--nothing strong enough to get someone like this. The bar's name, after all, was "Oopsie Tipsy."

Maybe he'd been kicked out of another bar and wandered in here. Great. This night just got harder. Thankfully, Richard was still around.

The man still hadn't moved.

Then finally, he spoke.

"... Leave me alone." His voice was low and quiet, but a deep growl simmered beneath it--like a beast about to snap.

"As much as I'd love to," I replied carefully, "this is my bar, and I can't lock up until everyone's out."

"I said--LEAVE ME ALONE!" he roared suddenly, slamming his glass to the floor. It shattered with a sharp crack, and his bloodshot eyes locked onto mine, burning with rage, grief, and desperation.

I flinched, staring at the shards scattered across the floor. Richard immediately stood, cracking his neck and stretching his arms. He stepped forward, ready to take the guy down if needed.

"No, Richard. Let me." I held an arm out to stop him.

I don't know why, but something inside me sparked--some strange, quiet bravery. I wasn't afraid of this man. There was something in his eyes that echoed through my empty heart. I just... wanted to hug him.

"Listen," I said, lowering my gaze before meeting his eyes again. "Life doesn't come easy. I know yours might be hard already. But please... don't make other people's harder too."

His eyes widened. His breathing quickened. Tears threatened to spill.

"Fuck..." he muttered. "Shit, I'm sorry."

He shook his head, ran a hand down his face, then stood. His eyes stayed on me as he backed toward the door.

"I'm sorry..."

The words echoed behind him as he vanished into the night.

***

"Well, that was tense," Richard said, holding me close with one arm as his rough hand slid across my shoulder. "Let's clean up this mess, and I'll drive you home."

"Yes, we should..." I leaned into his chest, listening to his steady heartbeat, soaking in the warmth radiating from him.

"... But what exactly are you doing with your hand right now?" he asked, glancing down at me with a wicked grin.

"... Just rubbing your big, growing bulge, daddy," I murmured, cheeks flushing as I lowered my head--but I didn't stop. "All that tension tonight--and your manly, heroic moment earlier--got me so worked up. I need to feel your big, warm, girthy cock inside me. And judging by how hard you're getting, I'd say you're thinking the same thing, aren't you?"

I looked up at him with a smile.

"Mmm, I guess there's only one way to find out." He leaned in and kissed me--long, deep, and hungry. His breath was hot against my cheek, lips savoring mine, hands strong and comforting as they traced down my back.

"Fuck, you're always so goddamn sexy," he growled. "Let's head to the employee room. I can't wait to be inside you."

He grabbed my shoulders, spun me toward the hallway, then gave my ass a hard slap. "You go ahead. I'll lock up and finish my drink."

To be continued...