bar story #1  

EccentricCynic 39M
5 posts
1/23/2006 5:10 pm

Last Read:
3/5/2006 9:27 pm

bar story #1

She was a weathered little thing. Dressed in a black tank top and black jeans. Tattoos, reasonable work, tribal designs; a bit trite, but yet intruiguing. Jet black hair pulled back in a tail. Her smile was inviting, but her eyes knew better. She was all business.

From across the bar her lips moved. The cacophony of the bar drowned everything out. I make a signal for two. Her lips move again "... wa... ime?" I make the hell no face. She smiles again and begins mixing the drinks.

I look her over as she's working. Good looks, but her eyes really told the story. She's not the type that hangs out at the gym all day. She's not the type that goes shopping for expensive outfits. She's not the type to sucker some rich fool into providing for her. She's her own person. She does what she needs to in order to survive in the concrete jungle. She relies on no one.

The drinks appear. No stupid lime. Her lips move again. Experience tells me that the drinks were $5 each. I get out fifteen bucks. The rest is tip. I put the money on the counter and walk away.

Another night in a bar. Another night in a stupor. Another night I didn't try to make a little more of the situation. Another night I was on the outside, looking in.

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