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It was getting pathetic. A terribly obvious truth that stared at you across the bar, in the fogged glass mirror - you were down bad for the pretty bartender of the grungy dive bar. Week after week, you’d come to chat her up. The smell of her cheap perfume, mixed with the stale booze pooling in the well beneath the bar, creating a heady miasma that made you want her even more. All the while, you’d ordered stale beer, after stale beer, making idle chatter as the hours ticked by. Every so often you’d catch your gaze in the mirror, as you did now, and lament on your hopelessness; all you saw in the mirror was a poser, crushing hard on a girl far out of her league.
So, unable to look your rotten truth in the eye any longer, you let your gaze fall to the bartender. Her black hair was in a messy bun, and choppy bangs fell into her face. Behind the ebon curtain of bangs were bright eyes that sat encircled in shadowy, thick eyeliner. A metal stud affixed one nostril, just below a long, jagged scar. She was raw in her beauty, an uncut gem that made you yearn to cut yourself on her sharp edges. Her thin, pale frame was clad in a loose fitting flannel, clearly a man’s - you hoped it hadn’t belonged to a boyfriend - denim jeans, torn and barely clinging to her hips with a ragged gait belt. She had tied an obscure band t-shirt behind her, exposing the flesh of her midsection.
The same endless cacophony of rhythmic hard rock droned on behind you - you couldn’t name a one - while you watched for a stolen moment while the bartender skillfully worked her craft. She was master of her craft, serving up guidance in a frothy (if slightly filthy) mug, to those in need of spiritual healing that only booze could provide. You, yourself, had come here for the first time months ago, desperate for a reprieve from the stress of the big city. You’d stumbled in mind anywhere but the dingy bar that offered sweet oblivion from your troubles in the form of alcohol.
There, you’d found men and women, faces slack as they stared into the fogged mirror behind the bar, forgetting whatever trouble had landed them in those shitty vinyl clad stools. The Nightsinger dive had such an effect on people - it wasn’t a dive for the partying sort. It was a place for letting go of your troubles and drowning in the assurance that nothing truly mattered. This sentiment had resonated within you for all of five minutes; you hadn’t even finished your first drink when you really saw her for the first time. In the dark, broody dive bar, she was a flower, coming to bloom in the harshest condition.
You saw it in the smiles she donned when she thought no one was watching, in the hope that sparkled in her eyes when you opened the door, and slipped through its creaking depths, and in the fascination that filled her expression when you told her of your life outside of the concrete walls of the dive.
She never spoke about her own life beyond her frequent shifts behind the worn wooden bar, in front of the foggy depths of that damned mirror. For all you knew, she lived in the dreary place. Though it was a ridiculous notion. Still, she always seemed to be about. You’d never come across another tending the aged bar. An enigma, you spent many office hours pondering her, while filling out worthless report after worthless report.
Eventually you’d always find yourself back in this same, offputtingly sticky stool. You’d switch between staring ahead at your ugly truth, and the pretty bartender, as you were now.
“Tav?” You heard her ask when you’d drifted off into your thoughts. Your name on her cigarette stained lips felt like the hot dripping of lit ash onto your heart.
With a sudden jerk, your gaze was on her. Your lips drew into a gentle smile, while your eyebrows raised expectantly.
“Yes, Shadowheart?” You asked, quite liking the way her name tasted on your lips.
Shadowheart seemed to like it too, as you watched her pale cheeks fill with a light blush, as she looked down for a moment, smiling to herself again before pulling your gaze into her own again.
“I hate to be a bother, but I’m out of candied cherries.” Shadowheart said with a weary sigh. “They’re on the top shelf in the back stockroom. I just can’t reach. Do you think you could stay around until after close, and get them down for me? My boss hates when I leave the bar unstocked.” She asked, sweet as those same cherries.
You looked at your watch and saw that closing time was three hours away. You’d never stuck around until close - you didn’t want to be that much of a sad sack. But Shadowheart had asked you to. Surely you could entertain yourself for a few hours.
Looking around the bar, you saw that the small dive was clearing out. Only a few of the die-hard followers of the Nightsinger lingered, nursing their liquid oblivion. The music had turned to crooning, slow grunge, weepy and unappealing to you. It was like a lullaby at the slackening faces of the regulars you had come to know so well, to your chagrin.
“Sure.” You said, trying to hide your eagerness. Closing time is still far away, though. Why don’t I fetch us dinner, and we wait out closing time together with a good pizza?” You offered.
A look of shock on her face flashed briefly before she looked around the bar carefully. “I don’t think a soul here would notice, or care if I slacked off for the rest of the night. So long as I refill their mugs, that is.” She said with a smug laugh, “Besides, I’d kill for something other than stale peanuts for dinner.” She finished, glancing at the crusty peanuts that peppered the bar.
“Toppings?” You asked, reaching into your pocket to pull out your wallet, and close out your tab.
“Surprise me.” Shadowheart replied with a wink that did unmentionable things to your heart, and other parts of you.
An hour later, you returned, pizza in hand, and an even thinner collection of drunks within the bar. You laid the pizza out of the bar, sobering up quickly amid the greasy and cheesy ambrosia that was big city, late night pizza. The hours ticked by, chased with probing question after probing question from Shadowheart. She seemed intoxicated by the many stories you had of life in the city. It was a curious notion to you; wasn’t she from the city as well? It was strange to be with someone so enamored by what life could be like outside of the shitty bar you sat in.
Yet, no matter how many times you tried to rephrase your questions, the other woman dismissed you until the bar emptied around you. You checked your watch, fifteen minutes to closing.
“I think that’s close enough to closing time.” Shadowheart said with a sigh, sliding from behind the bar, key in hand, to the thick metal door to the underground bar. You watched her intently, gaze locked on that pale patch of skin, just above her ass, that was exposed when she reached above the door to unplug the open sign.
“Now to get those cherries.” You said cheerfully, rising from your stool, cracking your fingers.
“What?” she asked, incredulously, with a light laugh, positioning herself beside you at the bar.
“You said you needed me to get cherries down for you.” You insisted, gesturing to the stockroom door behind the bar.
“Tav, sweetie, have you ever seen a cherry in a drink here?” She said in a gentle mock, moving closer to you. “You certainly spend enough time here, watching. No doubt, you could make the drinks as well as I.”
You blushed, looking to the stained cement floor, where your business loafers were mere inches from her worn converse.
“I suppose not.” You replied, mouth drying out around the words. She was so close now, closer than ever before, her perfume permeating your senses, threatening to overtake your senses in primal desire.
“I see the way you look at me,” Shadowheart declared, swaying closer, so her denim clad thighs pressed against your frame. “No one has looked at me like that before.” She added, vulnerability clear in her voice.
“Like what?”
“Like you see me. Not a pretty face, but me.” She admitted, leaning one elbow on the bar, eyes holding a hint of a challenge, a hint of invitation.
“It certainly doesn’t hurt that you have a very pretty face.” You added, daring to reach forward and rest your hand on hers atop the bar.
“You’re not bad, yourself.” She said with a coy smile.
“I’d like to see more of you. Out of here, maybe?” You dared, brows furrowing as you feared rejection.
“Maybe.” She replied, in a cool tone, leaning closer to you, until her breath could be felt on the raised flesh of your neck. “Keep being such a good girl, and we’ll see.”
Swallowing heavily, you felt warmth flush through you. Speechless, you stared when she pulled away. She laughed, actually laughed, at your stupefied expression.
“You’re so cute when you’re turned on.” She said, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear, making you blush even deeper. “I want you back here tomorrow. Same time.”
You nodded, concern about eagerness forgotten in the depth of her green eyes.
“Good girl.” She affirmed, bringing forth a level of arousal you didn’t think possible to your hardening clit. It was like she could read you like a book. When you brought your thighs together to dissipate the swelling desire within you, she looked down with a smug expression. When she looked up, catching your gaze on hers, she wasted no time in pressing her lips into yours.
She tasted like cigarettes, pizza, and cherry lip balm. You could get lost in it forever.
When she pulled away, you felt the arousal in you threatening to boil over into outright moaning with desire; but you composed yourself.
“Tomorrow.” You repeated when you removed your hand from atop hers.
Shadowheart nodded, turning her back to lean against the bar, arms crossed, a self-satisfied smirk on her lips as you left her to finish closing the bar. If you had it down bad before, you were hopeless now.
When you were back in your clean bed, in your sterile apartment, you still felt the desire burning between your legs. It beckoned for Shadowheart’s attention, begged to be twisted and tied like the stem of a cherry under her sharp tongue. You couldn’t stop from bringing your fingers beneath your cotton panties, and finding that bundle of nerves that screamed for her.
“Good girl.” You heard her say in your mind, while you pictured her skillful hands exploring you rather than your own. A moan escaped your lips as you rubbed slow circles into the center of your clit. In your mind, Shadowheart pinned you to the hard surface of the bar, taking her fingers, one by one, until you were full of her loving touch and cooing words of affirmation. You would be a good girl for her, you would be hers, drinking in everything she had on offer, until you were wasted on her personal vintage.
In mere minutes, you were climaxing around your fingers, mind firmly coiled around Shadowheart. She could have anything of you, and you’d be happy about it. Sleep was hard to come by as you grew aroused again, quickly thinking of what was to come the next day.
You had been a good girl; you were right where she asked you to be, when she had instructed you to be here.
Thighs stuck to the vinyl topped stool, bringing a sear of pain through you every time you shifted your weight. You’d stripped from your office garb the moment you were off the clock, changing into a jean skirt and a tight white tank top. A choker adorned your neck, along with a new perfume you’d been hesitant to use.
The extra effort into your appearance paid off in the dark looks Shadowheart passed your way every chance could. You couldn’t look any more different, as you sat there sipping your cola through cherry red lips, looking every bit the preppy city girl. She looked different today too; foregoing the usual flannel and band tee combo that made you crazy, she wore only a tight vest that showed her ample cleavage nicely. Her hair was in a neat braid, rather than the messy bun she normally wore while tending the bar, and her lips were adorned with a saccharine black that made your mouth water.
It frustrated you how much more male attention she seemed to get dressed the way she was. It made you feel even more disheartened when men would attempt to make a pass at you, right in front of her, and not earn so much as a glare from the woman, who seemed to possess such looks in spades normally.
As the hours ticked by, and chatter remained sparse between the two of you, you excused yourself to go to the bathroom, contemplating crawling through one of the small windows, and leaving your foolish notions of holding a woman like that down, behind in the Nightsinger along with the many other memories surrendered there.
Washing your face with the cold water of the tap, you hadn’t heard the door open to the ladies’ room. You gasped when warm hands snaked under your shirt, settling on your hip bones, while another set of hips pressed against your ass, holding you in place.
“Does my good girl need a bit of attention?” Shadowheart asked, gaze catching yours in the mirror's reflection.
You blushed, looking into the shiny metal drain of the sink, breath coming shallow.
“You’ve made yourself so pretty for me.” She continued, leaning closer to rest her chin on your shoulder. Her body felt so good against yours, even when you were cross with her.
When you looked at her in the reflection, your mind fell to the night before, to your warm bed and the conjured images of her. Suddenly, you were blushing heavily, a deep breath rattling from your lips.
“‘What is it, sweet girl?” Innocently spoken, the words came while she ignored the hot breath on her neck.
“I…I can’t say.” You replied, embarrassed, eyes narrowing as you tried to push those thoughts away.
“You can tell me anything.” She said flirtatiously, “No one holds a secret better than a barkeep.”
You sighed, and shimmied away from her grasp, turning to face her, blushing impossibly hard when her hands shifted to lie on your ass.
“I touched myself last night thinking of you.” You replied in a shaky voice, to which she smirked.
“I know.”
Your eyes widened, before she pressed a gentle kiss to your red lips, then another, and then another, until you had properly ruined each other’s lipstick.
“I did too.” She said when she pulled away, “In truth, I have many times since you started coming here.”
You smiled, satisfied, knowing that your crush was mutual. It didn’t matter how many men made a pass at you. She knew you had eyes for her, and that was what mattered. Pulling her back into a hungry kiss, you felt her hands squeeze against your ass while she hummed in pleasure against your lips. When she pulled away, you offered big, sad eyes and a genuine pout.
“I can’t spend all night in this bathroom with you. There are drinks to pour, long-winded stories to tune out.” She said with a teasing smile, releasing you from her domineering grip.
You nodded, staying behind a moment to cool down when she returned to the bar. A hand through your long, unrestrained hair, and another splash of cold water to the face later, and you were back at the bar. Your thighs clung to the vinyl of the stool, almost as much as your gaze clung to Shadowheart’s breasts.
The hours slogged on, much as they had the night before, with the crowd thinning out as closing time lurched forward. Then, much like the night before, you were alone in the bar, and Shadowheart was locking the front door. Though, this time, she stopped for a moment at the jukebox, depositing a nickel, and joining you back at the bar.
Moments later, a slow, indie rock song, so unlike the dark, grungy rock that normally swelled in the somber bar, came on. You stood from the stool, meeting Shadowheart across the bar, a swell of anticipation filling you to near bursting.
“Are you going to ask me to dance?” You asked, holding a hand out to her.
“Something like that.” She replied, pulling you close to her. To the rhythm of the slow jam, your bodies pressed together, rocking against each other. Your stomach felt taut with desire, while your head swam in the burning luster of her eyes.
“When you touched yourself thinking of me, what were we doing?” Shadowheart asked, brushing your hair from your face in a practiced motion that told you she’d done this before; perhaps many times.
“Well, I…You know. The usual.” You mumbled, pressing your face into the soft flesh of her neck.
“I guess I’ll be using my imagination, then.” Shadowheart retorted.
You blushed, smiling against her skin. You fit perfectly against her. Breathing her in was the easiest thing you’d ever done.
“Though, maybe we can manage a bit more than imagination.”
With that, you felt yourself pulled toward the old pool table at the edge of the barroom. You’d never seen anyone actually even play with the damned table. A moment later, assured hands were on your hips, lifting you onto the felt surface, before Shadowheart climbed atop you.
“Was it anything like this?” she teased, leaning down to press a flurry of kisses along your sensitive neck. Following that was a careful hand, tracing up the inside of your thigh, to squeeze at the sensitive flesh there.
“Somewhat.” You managed as arousal boiled within your gut.
“Courteous of you to wear a skirt.” Shadowheart said with a smirk, while fingers slid between your legs, to trace at your lips from the other side of your damp panties. “What a good girl, making things easy on me.” She continued. Meanwhile, you were star-struck at the sight of her breasts, so close, and so tempting. They pillowed out of her tight top, teasing you while she prodded at your most tender parts.
You gasped when she rubbed your clitoris from the other side of the tight cotton panties, arching your back atop the felt pool table.
“Such pretty noises.” She affirmed, pressing her lips to yours as you reached forward to fumble with the buttons of her vest, obscuring her breasts from view. When you managed to open a few, she pulled away from your lips, looking down to where her braless breasts now swayed freely as she loomed over you.
“Naughty thing, you.” Shadowheart whispered against your lips when your hands found her breasts and massaged them. When you tweaked her nipples in between your fingers, she moaned into your mouth.
Fingers begged at the seam of your panties, slipping under the band, sliding them down your thighs, to hook around your trembling knees.
You continued to paw at her breasts, while her hands next came to your jean skirt, bunching it around your hips, leaving your cunt exposed to the still air of the bar. You shivered as Shadowheart guided her hand back to your wet pussy. It throbbed for her attention. Smirking to herself, Shadowheart seemed all too aware of this. You were whining for her, eyebrows furrowed and face contorted in desperate need. You wanted to feel her inside of you.
“Keep making those noises for me, sweet girl.” Shadowheart said, against the tender flesh of your neck as she dipped down to suckle at the tender flesh of your neck. Meanwhile, you continued your pleasured whines, while rolling her nipples between your thumb and pointer finger. Fingers danced along the edge of your pussy, teasing you incessantly as your face burned red with raw arousal.
“Please…Please…Please…” you begged, while her fingers traced your labia, teasing your sex and reducing you to a panting mess beneath her.
“Well, since you asked so prettily.” Shadowheart spoke with a smug expression before gently sliding two fingers into your dripping cunt. You gasped, reaching one arm forward to wrap around her form, balancing you beneath her. Your other hand still worked her breast, earning a pair of reddened cheeks from Shadowheart along with the occasion gasp of pleasure.
Soon enough, the pair of you were in a rhythm, as she pumped two fingers into your sex, while you let out a series of whines and gasps as she edged you closer to release. You couldn’t stop your legs from coiling around her waist, as your body tried to pull her impossibly close.
Both hands pressed into the smooth skin of her back, gently pressing against her softness while your body teetered closer and closer to coming undone beneath her.
“Are you ready for another one, Tav?” Shadowheart asked, looking at you with a challenge in her eyes.
Biting your lips, you nodded vigorously as she pushed a third finger into your pussy. You were tight; you’d never had much beyond a brief, inexperienced tryst. This was like nothing you’d ever experienced - and you wanted more.
Bucking your hips in motion with her thrusts, you felt her penetrate you in ways you hadn’t imagined in your most detailed dreams. Her gaze was heady as she watched your every reaction, measuring your whines, your submissive cries, and finding them satisfactory.
“You’re taking it so well, Tav.” Shadowheart praised, letting her thumb graze your clit as her fingers cast a spell within you. Suddenly, her lips her on yours again. You could taste the faint flavor of cigarettes and her cheap lipstick; it was your new favorite flavor. You felt the arousal swelling within you, unable to be contained further. Your body grew taut under the pressure of an impending orgasm. Shadowheart sensed it, pulling away from your lips, leaning in close to your ear.
“Be a good girl and come for me.” She ordered, gently.
You needed no further instruction, letting it all loose around her fingers. With a clenching sensation around her, you came in a tidal wave of ecstasy. Tears pooled in your eyes and fell, falling down your reddened cheeks as the pleasure completely overtook you. Quiet sobs fell from your form as you rode the height of the climax Shadowheart had given you.
When you settled down, breathing growing even, Shadowheart removed her fingers from your sex, guiding them to your lips. You eagerly sucked them clean, making unshakable eye contact with her all the while.
“I could look upon you forever,” Shadowheart praised, from atop you, fingers running through your hair.
“I hear the view is better from up top.” You offered.
“Is that so? I’ll have to see for myself.” Shadowheart teased, coming to a sitting position on your hips. She wasted no time in removing her pants, followed by a pair of lace panties. Soon, she was climbing your prone form, a flirtatious smile on her blush lips. You reached forward, greedily guiding her sex toward your waiting mouth.
With her sex upon your face, you couldn’t help but admire the dark curls that adorned her sex, and tickled your face as you pressed it deep into her. Your tongue found her clit, swirling lightly over the sensitive bud. Lightly, you suckled against it, while your hands found her hips. You smiled to yourself as your thumb grazed that mole you spent countless days drifting your gaze at.
“You’re doing so well.” She said in a breathy voice, clearly enjoying herself. From the swollen state of her clitoris.
You swooned with joy beneath her, pleased to perform well for her. Reverent strokes of your tongue against her flower conjured her hands, burying themselves deep into your hair. Her fingernails dug into your scalp, making you dig even deeper, putting everything you had into pleasuring her.
It felt as though you were melting under the radiance of a goddess fallen from the night’s sky, evaporating under her divine light, and the hymns of her quickening breath. Like a prayer offered, you flicked your tongue in tune with her breathing until she stilled atop you, and let out a cry so beautiful, you were almost brought to tears again.
Shadowheart collapsed beside you on the felt top of the pool table, shoving the triangle of billiard balls away to clatter about the table. She laid in their place, reaching into her discarded pants, to pull out a cheap plastic case and a lighter. You’d expected another cigarette, yet you were surprised when it was a neatly rolled joint that found itself in her pale fingers.
“Care to join me?” She asked, lighting the pungent joint and taking a drag.
You curled closer to her, resting against her slightly sweaty frame. Your leg found a home, resting between her thighs, while your gaze fell from her lit joint to her inviting lips, smeared with a blend of black and red lipstick.
Smirking to herself, Shadowheart took a long drag of the joint, though instead of releasing the smoke, she leaned down to your pursed lips, pushing the smoke through. With smoke shotgunned into your virgin lungs, you fought to resist a cough, and with the soothing strokes left upon your back, you did.
Several minutes passed like this, your fingers carelessly wandering along her perfect form all the way, the air growing thick with smoke, and the smell of sex. Having reduced the joint to a useless nub, she returned it to the cheap plastic case and looked at you.
“Ready to go again?” Shadowheart asked, already trailing kisses along your jaw.
You smiled to yourself - you were down so bad for this woman.