1 Chapter 1

I want to tell you a story. No, it's not a fairy tale. Although at times, it sure felt like one. There's no happy ending to this tale. No prince. No living happily ever after. Anyway, here goes nothing.

Years back, I was at a turning point. Scraping to make ends meet, I needed money. Looking at my options, there wasn't much. Barely made it outta high school, no college degree. Not yet at least. I was smart in books, just dumb in life. So, that fifty grand a year wasn't happening. Not anytime soon. Looking at myself in the mirror, tits awkwardly portioned, slight gut bulging, and chicken legs with barely any hips made me realize that Hollywood actress or porn star was off the table as well. Hooker? Nope, not happening. I was promiscuous, but by choice. For pleasure purposes. As my mind scanned mentally for employment, one solution arised. Bartender.

Two months later, I'd found a job at a local hole in the wall joint. The owner had a room for rent right behind the bar, so it even came with a spot for me to rest my head. He was a scumbag. Little did I know at the time, the true meaning of scumbag was days away from entering my world. After 60 days of slanging bottles of bud and coors, during the week at least, he asked me to work a Friday night. For those of you who don't know, in the world of beers and shots, Friday and Saturday nights are the gold mine. Especially Friday. I remember that night vividly. No matter how bad I wish I could forget.

80s hair bands mixed with hip hop echoed over the speakers. One guy and another chicked made their way around the bar serving shots, beers and mixed drinks, while I struggled to keep up. Hair up in a messy bun, a tank top, and ragged flannel, I was not the epitome of the sexy bartender from the movies. I scanned the crowd searching for a customer or two in need of alcoholic relief. That's when my eyes came across him.

Finally, my curiosity got the best of me. I called Damien. Tara was right. What did I have to lose? Not much.

While at my mom's house doing laundry, I dialed his number. The phone rang a few times, then someone picked up.

"Hello?", a deep voice on the other end of the line mumbled.

" Hi..can I speak to Damien?" I replied.

" Who's this?"

" Jane.." I said followed by a pause.

Silence.

Shit. He didn't remember me. Why would he? Oh my god! This was a mistake. Awkwardness sinking in, I has to say..something.

"Jane, the chick from the bar? Flannel??", I said in my best attempt to refresh his memory.

"Ohh, plain Jane" he chuckled.

He remembered! Excitement surged through my veins.

"Well, what's up?" Damien continued.

After talking for just a little while, I knew I had to have him, if even for one night. Again, what did I have to lose?

Getting ready to wrap up the conversation, I got the balls to ask.

" Listen, what are you doing..tonight!?" I asked, hoping he didn't sense the nervousness in my voice.

"Tonight?" He repeated back to me.

" Nothing, why? What's up?"

Time to lay the offer on the table.

"I was thinking..maybe.. we could hang out?", hoping he'd get the hint.

Silence, yet again. Those few moments felt like an eternity. Jesus Christ! I thought. Just answer the fucking question!

Then he said it.

" Sure. What time?"

Score! Yes!!! I was gonna get a taste of tough guy. I thought. Losing concentration, I silently jerked my fist in that yes motion. Then I realized, shit. I didn't give him a time.

Coming back to reality, the clock in my head scrolled.

" Uhh, 9:30?"

" Okay, see you then."

I gave him my address and we hung up.

I remember doing a victory dance around my room. You know? Like the football players do when they score a touchdown. Not big into sports, I knew that much.

As I ran the shower, gearing up for my big night, and the excitement easing down, all i could think was, "God, I hope he doesn't suck in bed."

Later that night, I sat waiting, dressed in sweats and an oversized tee. No sense is overdressing, I was trying to get laid, nothing more.

At 9:30 on the dot, I heard a knock at the door.

Guess he got the hunt, I thought to myself as I made my way to the door.

We sat on the couch, drank a few glasses of wine, and that's when it happened. No, not that. He spilled wine on my clothes. Drenched in white zinfandel, I went to take a shower. And THAT was when that happened.

I came out in nothing but a towel wrapped around my awkward body. Hair still dry, in a ponytail.

He unwrapped the towel from me, gazed in my eyes, and kissed me. Pulling away, he gazed into my eyes, then kissed my neck, and slowly worked his way down. After reaching my holy grail, he began working his tongue. First slow, then fast. I would've sworn this man was possessed with the way he worked his tongue. Slurping up every last drop, he kept going. Pleasing me in every way orally.

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