Post by kayla on Jan 9, 2013 11:42:53 GMT -8
“Good Golly Miss Molly” Kayla muttered under her breath. When she walked into the bar, it was immediately evident that a good bit of the customers were under age. She looked up to the stage, almost feeling some remorse for quitting. Hey it’d only been for a couple of years, completely unbeknownst to her parents and family, or the union even. Flashbacks of the different wigs came into her mind, managing to avoid recognition even when the guys, some bosses came into the clubs. It had gotten way too risky though when she had been recognized by a high school friend, someone she’d worried would go and blab about her ‘secret’. No need to worry now, they were hundreds of miles away, who cared what they thought? She did. Her parents had found out at the beginning, but thankfully they’d gotten over it and… well best to shut that thought off, move on to better ones.
Looking down briefly, a million thoughts went through her head, most of them insecurities of sorts. At least she’d been able to dye her hair back to bleach blonde, the reddish brown natural color looking extremely dark on the untouched under layer. She preferred it that way though, better than the opposite near black-brown that most girls liked to use to stand out from the almost white blonde. She was still in great shape, at 5’7 and 135 pounds, muscle rippled beneath her smooth skin with every move she made. The tight blue jeans and low cut wife beater accentuated her form, or at least that’s what she’d always thought. Last night, after getting home she’d pierced her ears again, the pink blinged out gauges sitting just a bit below brand new pink diamond earrings. Okay, so she had definitely splurged lately but they’d been reduced on the Zale’s website and she couldn’t resist. Almost 6’2 now in her cowgirl heel stilettos, she felt that she was definitely dressed to impress, c’mon the hot bartenders always get the best tips.
As the million and one thoughts came to an end she quickly made her way through the crowd to stow her purse away and come back to the bar, instantly settling into the familiar routine of making drinks and dealing with drunk idiots. “At least it’s not Tuesday” she mumbled to herself as she poured a round of shots for a rowdy group of college kids. Freshmen, she guessed by their looks, not that she was allowed to I.D. them anyways. The young man waiting to take them back to the table had been checking her out the whole time, nearly drooling over her as she worked. At her statement he shot back a retort, the whiskey smell evident on his breath, “Why not? That’s the best night to be here?!”. Anger dripped from his words, sparking her own flame as she finished pouring and handed the tray to him. “Nah, you can bring ‘em to us babe” he told her with a satisfied grin as he sauntered to the table.
Kayla swore under her breath, upset the owner hadn’t mentioned that bartending included waitressing during her interview. She plastered on a fake smile as she sauntered to the table, trying to not let the idiots get under her skin. As she bent down to place the tray on the table one of them had the audacity to goose her, almost causing her to drop the platter then and there. She quickly swatted his hand away and turned to him, an evil smile on her face. In her sexiest voice she whispered to him “Honey, if you do that again, you’re not going to have a hand to touch yourself.” before turning from his astounded look and the now howling kids to return to the bar. A glance to the tip jar relieved her anger a bit, there was a crisp twenty sitting in there that hadn’t been before, at least he’d tipped well, or he’s just that drunk.
Looking down briefly, a million thoughts went through her head, most of them insecurities of sorts. At least she’d been able to dye her hair back to bleach blonde, the reddish brown natural color looking extremely dark on the untouched under layer. She preferred it that way though, better than the opposite near black-brown that most girls liked to use to stand out from the almost white blonde. She was still in great shape, at 5’7 and 135 pounds, muscle rippled beneath her smooth skin with every move she made. The tight blue jeans and low cut wife beater accentuated her form, or at least that’s what she’d always thought. Last night, after getting home she’d pierced her ears again, the pink blinged out gauges sitting just a bit below brand new pink diamond earrings. Okay, so she had definitely splurged lately but they’d been reduced on the Zale’s website and she couldn’t resist. Almost 6’2 now in her cowgirl heel stilettos, she felt that she was definitely dressed to impress, c’mon the hot bartenders always get the best tips.
As the million and one thoughts came to an end she quickly made her way through the crowd to stow her purse away and come back to the bar, instantly settling into the familiar routine of making drinks and dealing with drunk idiots. “At least it’s not Tuesday” she mumbled to herself as she poured a round of shots for a rowdy group of college kids. Freshmen, she guessed by their looks, not that she was allowed to I.D. them anyways. The young man waiting to take them back to the table had been checking her out the whole time, nearly drooling over her as she worked. At her statement he shot back a retort, the whiskey smell evident on his breath, “Why not? That’s the best night to be here?!”. Anger dripped from his words, sparking her own flame as she finished pouring and handed the tray to him. “Nah, you can bring ‘em to us babe” he told her with a satisfied grin as he sauntered to the table.
Kayla swore under her breath, upset the owner hadn’t mentioned that bartending included waitressing during her interview. She plastered on a fake smile as she sauntered to the table, trying to not let the idiots get under her skin. As she bent down to place the tray on the table one of them had the audacity to goose her, almost causing her to drop the platter then and there. She quickly swatted his hand away and turned to him, an evil smile on her face. In her sexiest voice she whispered to him “Honey, if you do that again, you’re not going to have a hand to touch yourself.” before turning from his astounded look and the now howling kids to return to the bar. A glance to the tip jar relieved her anger a bit, there was a crisp twenty sitting in there that hadn’t been before, at least he’d tipped well, or he’s just that drunk.