[Fic] Esquilia, a Respectable Establishment (^_^)
Title: Esquilia, a Respectable Establishment
Fandom: Big Bang
Pairing: YOU x Lee Seunghyun, implied You x GD (yes, this is Het)
Rating: NC-17
Genre: Humor, Erotica
Summary: Work days are better when hot guys come and visit and talk about potent drinks. I guess you can thank me for giving you my shift. Again. :)
Warning: I was trying something new…This is supposed to be you (the reader) talking to…me? Or something like that. I wrote it a while ago and I was thinking about changing it to MxM, but I figure, hey, seriously, most of you readers are female, don’t you want in on the action? Anyways, I was going to do it 2nd person, but then the tone was changed too much…I didn’t want it to sound dark (2nd person made Seungri sound beyond creepy…which…is okay). Anyways. Let me know if this is just waaay too weird. That way I’ll know whether or not to try writing more stuff like this or not. :)
Suave!Seungri.
Mood/Tone:
Yelle - Les femmes (Siriusmo Remix)
http://www.mediafire.com/?ujeribny2dk
Far*East Movement - Girls ON THE Dance Floor
http://www.mediafire.com/?mcmjzmijt3n
(at Kwon’s-this is the song I imagine being played~)
--
I’m working your shift again.
It’s just for tonight, you say, not for the first time. I’m going out with that gardener in my new neighborhood, and, y’know, we’ll probably be late. Thanks so much for rubbing it in, my good friend. Now that you’ve easily switched from one hot guy (tall, charismatic underground rapper with a great office position) to another (buffed out gardener with his own business) and you’re out living the high life of hot sex and delicious foods, you have no to time to commiserate with your younger friend, the one you keep shoving your hours off on. Which, I guess I can’t complain in that respect, because…hey, money is money. So here I am, serving nasty beef and pork sandwiches on delicate plates made out of expensive China along with coffee and two bottled waters with straws. The Eringers. These stupid people come every single Friday night. And they order the same damn thing every time. I gag every time I pick up the plate, but, being a dignified waitress at an establishment such as this, I gotta keep my vomit in my mouth. Although the color would probably do the bland dish some good. And the stench couldn’t get any worse.
See, I decided a few days back to try the vegetarian route. And after a few days of it, I decided it wasn’t as hard as many people made it out to be. The only thing I really miss is the fish, but besides that, beef, pork, chicken? Good riddance. I don’t get on other people’s cases about eating animals: I’m not one of the PETA freaks, ‘cause I can’t get over the fact that they go TOO far pretty much all of the time. But, yeah, I can’t really keep beef down anymore, but the smell is sort of numb to me now. So I’m surviving.
Oh, Daesung is calling my name. I roll my eyes and continue to clean the table of the Gillifers, another regular Friday group. Slobs. You’d think at an elegant restaurant like this people would care a bit more about their appearance and eating etiquette. The people didn’t leave a tip, as usual.
“You’re needed at the front.” He’s singing my name now…that loser, who can’t seem to get it through his head that my name does not have extra letters in it. “I’ve got floor duty, so you go take care of reservations, okay?” I nod at him and give him a neutral smile. He’s a really sweet guy; he’s just so…ignorant. Well, that’s a bit too rough of a description. Innocent? No. Well, yes, but mainly he’s just oblivious. That’s the word. Oblivious. I’m afraid that one day someone will talk him out of his shoes, literally, and he’ll just stand there in his socks wondering why that man in the shady-looking clothing is running away in the middle of a conversation discussing his expensive BAPE kicks, after he’s handed them over.
I stand behind the podium-yes, it looks like a podium so that is what I will call it-and nod to the next person sitting in the waiting room.
“Sir, do you have a reservation?” My eyes are already scanning the book filled with name after name, my insides twisting at the number of coinciding times. We’re going to be crowded tonight.
“Nope, I don’t have a reservation.” My eyebrows furrow (I artistically plucked them this morning so I know that my pained face is not creating a unibrow), and I look up. I’m greeted with a smiling face. Scratch that, a smugly handsome face. If he wasn’t so good looking, I’d probably feel the need to smack him for wearing such a smirk.
“Sir,” I start, slowly, “Tuesdays, Fridays, and Saturdays are our busiest evenings. We only serve reservationists, so I deeply regret that I will have to ask you to make a reservation for another time.” I muster something of a smile at his bright grin, which has suddenly turned completely pure and, dare I say it, gorgeous.
“Am I allowed to continue to wait in that room and sit, just in case there is empty space in a little bit? Maybe someone will cancel.” I can only nod blankly. His face is so gorgeous. I know I’m not drooling, but it sure feels like I ought to oblige him by doing so. He definitely is worthy of drool. As he walks back to the sitting room, the next couple comes forward. They have a reservation. The Genes. Man, I could think of at least 23 jokes off that name…Ha, ha, ha…Am I the only one laughing?
After directing eight parties to their tables, I return to my podium-yes, while I am working up front, the podium is mine-to see the gorgeous man leaning against it. My podium. He is leaning against it. And, damn, what a nice lean he has. I resist the urge to whistle, catcall, or do any other sort of weird, manly things like “DAAAYUUUMM” in which I’d probably come off as some sort of butch girl tryin’ to holla at such a fine piece of man flesh…But, like I said, there he is, leaning against my podium, blocking the next customer from coming forward, and I know that couple has a reservation. The Pullers are another regular couple.
“Sir,” I begin, never dropping my cordial appearance, “may I assist you with something?” His eyes catch mine before they swoop down. I’m not standing behind my podium, so my short skirt is visible to his eyes. Meaning my legs are fully exposed to those gorgeous dark brown eyes-I noticed. Meaning he’s getting what I hope is a good look at some fineeee flesh which he won’t be able to touch. Actually, if he wants to touch it-
“-were some people in front of me, but they said, helllooo~~” His hand is in my face. I back up and step behind my podium. He’s been allowed too much viewing for the night. “Yo,” he says my name, “wake up girly.” My body jerks.
“How do you know my name?” He leans further over my podium towards me and stares at my face before dropping his gaze down to my non-existent chest. Immediately I laugh. Duh, nametag, go girl.
“That’s cute~ you talk to yourself.” Oh lord, what an adorable smile he has. What cute eyes, they nearly disappear…But, man, he must not get enough sleep, check out those dark circles…maybe he works crazy hours like I do.
“Are my dark circles still so noticeable? Aish…” Wait. Did I speak out loud?
“Yes, you’re speaking out loud.”
“I’m sorry, it’s been a really long day.”
“I’ll bet, since you’re working a split shift. Nice friends you’ve got.” I look up from my reservation book and stare at him.
“You were muttering about it when you first walked over here…I just have good ears.” I laugh, slightly unnerved by his attentiveness-but more so at my muttering out loud. He smiles at me again and before I can tell him, again, that he’ll have to wait until someone cancels, he returns to his seat in the waiting room. The Pullers step forward. These two…they’re definitely a couple that could definitely go without eating out a few nights a week. Even though Esquilia is a fine dining restaurant, it still has some fatty meals. Not to mention the meat. But, here they are, once again, same as last week and the week before that, and the week before that, just as they have been doing for almost three years now. I know. I’ve been working here that long. They moved here exactly four days after I did. In the apartment complex across from mine. Meaning they live in the expensive building and I live in the shitty one. Yeay for toilets that don’t work!
“Oh, dear, it’s so nice to see you this evening! You’re always working evenings, aren’t you? We never see you, even though we stop by some times.” They stop by to see me? I don’t really know them, but I guess that’s pretty sweet of them.
“I’ve actually added two more classes to my schedule, so I’ve been at the college campus more, as well. And I picked up another part-time job.” Their eyebrows fly to their hairline in perfect unison.
“Another job? Are you strapped for cash? We can assist.” Mr. Puller. He’s such a weird person. I know it wouldn’t be this way, but the manner in which he offered his money had me thinking they wanted me to do stuff for them. WOW, gross.
“No, I’m just saving up for life in general. Thanks for your offer though. I can show you to your seat.” And, thankfully, Daesung shows up to take them to their table, saving me from having to stand in front of them for about forty minutes talking about things like their grandson’s birthday coming up (July 17th, they’ve been mentioning it every Friday since January), or blah blah blah…
And when I return, there he is, again, leaning against my podium. Only this time, he’s behind the podium, looking at my reservation book, holding my phone!
“Excuse me, sir, can-“ he waves a hand at me to be silent. Completely thunderstruck, I do as he says, ignoring my better judgment to snatch the phone from him and see who he is talking to.
“So you say you would like to reserve…ah, yes ma’am. Two-thirty? Yes, we will be expecting you. Thank you, Mrs. Lennox. Yes, ma’am. Yes, I appreciate it. Good evening.” He shoots a look at me. What type of look is that?
“The phone was ringing for quite some time, where were you.”
“I, I was dealing with another customer,” I replied hotly. I smoothed out my apron and fixed my skirt before pushing him aside and smiling at-no one. There were no customers waiting? What?
“You work really slowly, you know that? These people know where to go, I’ve noticed, they’re all regulars. I know ‘cause I’ve been flipping through your week schedules. All of these people come every week. Man, the food here isn’t that good…”
I’m so in shock I don’t know what to say.
“Do I know you from somewhere?” His wide smile makes me melt. And then I feel really uncomfortable. But I can place the reason.
“Hey, some people are slow, but man you’ve just set a new record.”
“Where…?” He just smiles. God, what a sincere looking smile. And yet…I’m really creeped out. And he doesn’t answer either.
“Do you serve alcohol here?” He flips open a menu, eyes scanning the lines of overpriced meals before he snorts and spins the plastic coated cardboard around to study the lists of potent beverages. His eyes brighten as he lifts up the menu and his finger points to one line of black words.
“Tequila Sunrise.” The words come out of my mouth but no meaning sticks. “You want one?”
“For free?”
I blink.
“No, for $13.95.”
“Damn, it’s that expensive? At Kwon’s it’s only $5.98. How much are refills?”
“$13.95.” His eyes widen briefly before he returns to a grin.
“At Kwon’s it’s only $4.00 for a refill.”
“They must really like drunk people there.”
“It’s a club. The more alcohol, the more loose everyone is. Makes for more fun.”
“Well, here, we price the alcohol as such to deter people from drinking too much. It’s priced at just the right number so people usually stop at about 2, or 3 if they have a good amount of change in their wallet-“
“-or credit on their card.” His eyes drop back to the menu and he continues to smile fondly at the list of drinks. He pops his lips a few times before looking back at me as I start speaking again.
“Anyways. That’s awesome. Kwon’s-“ And as soon as the word touches my tongue, I’m there again. There at the bar, tapping my finger on the table, ordering a drink, Tequila Sunrise, please, and drinking it slowly, enjoying the smooth sensation that calms down all my fried nerves, did you work much today?, what a sweet bartender, so caring about the people who buy his poison, damn, and what a looker, too. He’s got black hair, spiked in the front with long fringes to the side. What a stylish look. And his uniform? Is that even a uniform? He wears it like everyday clothing, not the least bit stiff. You’re new. What brought you here? I smile at him, licking my lips. I was told the music was bangin’ and the drinks were the best to meet town. The bartender flashes white smile. Well, there’s the music. What you think of it? I turn around. My eyes immediately focus on the flashy deejay, his hat turned to the side, large sunglasses, bright clothing, definitely getting’ into the music. The deejay is hot, I tell the bartender, and he just laughs. That seems to be what all the ladies say. His music? I nod. It’s funky. I like his style. Not the standard club shit. He’s got flavor. Now about this drink…The bartender smiles. No good? I stare at the glass, which now stares back, pitifully empty. I would like another, please. He continues to smile as he places a new glass in front of me. He continues to smile as he places a new glass in front of me, not asking for my name, ID, or anything else. Just a glass of alcohol and a sweet smile.
“You drink a lot.” His musical voice snaps me out of my reminiscence.
“Uhm, yeah…”
“And, I gotta say, once you let loose, you let loose.”
What the fuck is that supposed to mean?
“I don’t think I’ve ever been so strongly persuaded to come out from behind the bar and dance. I think Jiyong would have fired me, had you not convinced him otherwise.”
What?
“You’re just a master of persuasion, I guess. Dang. I gotta say, you have a pretty decent repertoire of skills. I’ve never seen someone take Jiyong-hyung over the edge so quickly. You got a helluva mouth.”
What, what, what?!
His eyes directly catch mine. “Can I ask you a very, very serious question?” I’m so flustered at this point, I don’t even respond with my voice. I just look down at my book, on my podium, and hope he doesn’t ask me about today’s special, because I won’t remember all the specifics. I just know it has beef.
“Do you ever get horny at work?”
The words don’t even sink in until he starts speaking again.
“Like, you’re just cleaning tables or something, and suddenly, you just feel the need to bend over the table a little more than necessary because you know there’s a decently hot guy right behind you. And you imagine that he reaches out and feels up your ass. Has that ever happened?”
“…” My face has got to be bright red.
“Or maybe you’re cleaning dishes and you get a bunch of suds on your hands and shirt, and you feel the need to slip your hand between your own legs or up your shirt and touch yourself because the white foam just reminds you of cum, even though the texture is completely different. And you actually do it because no one is looking.”
Am I supposed to respond?
“Or better still, do you ever see a coworker or even your boss and just envision how awesome it would be if you sat up on one of those tables and spread your legs, wearing your short skirt, and he just got a hard on and came up and fucked you out of your mind. Right there, in front of some old couple who was eating spare ribs. And you get sauce all over your back and ass, and your boss or whoever pours some between your legs and just licks it all off. And he keeps going and going, and the old woman faints, but the old man is freaking out of his mind, enjoying himself, saying, ‘Wow, what a great anniversary gift, thank you Mary, you’re the best wife ever!’ And even though he’s making weird noises to the side, you’re just concentrating on clenching your legs, getting the best feeling.” He rests his chin in his palm and looks up at my bright red face. My eyes are wide but I can’t see anything. I’m so in shock.
“Or maybe you might surprise one of the cooks in the back-“
“Stop!” I’m about to explode from embarrassment! What a strange person!!!
“Hey, your skirt…” he steps back and eyes my legs. I hadn’t even noticed that he was standing next to me behind my podium until he stepped back. He crouches down, his eyes scanning my backside. I blush and turn away, my hands covering up…uselessly. His eyes still stare at my legs. Then he stands up, a satisfied smirk on his lips. He strides forward and pins me between the nook of the podium and the counter, out of view of any other workers or customers.
“I’ve always found it sexy when women come to work in skirts…without underwear.” My eyes widen and suddenly I am very conscious of the air that is flowing between my legs. How could he tell? Jeez, a girl can’t be comfortable without a guy gettin’ up in her grill! He’s placed one hand up on the wall next to my head, leaning in, while his other hand wastes no time in slipping beneath my skirt and brushing me lightly. My legs are clenched together, but his slender fingers easily slip between them. My back presses completely against the wall his two fingers slid against my clit, and soon my hips are pushing forward, urging him to actually press in. He leans his forearm against the wooden wall and he presses more close, catching my lips in an open mouth kiss. His fingers fully enter me, exit, enter, and soon my hips are actually bucking into his hand. His lips break off from mine and he has dropped to his knees, his hands pushing my skirt up just above my pubic hair. His warm hands spread my legs and it takes all of the wall’s sturdiness and his strength to keep me from collapsing on to him. His mouth is between my legs in that same moment and as I stare down at him, his eyes closed, completely enjoying the flavor, I would guess, his tongue is pressing into me just as his fingers were, and his lips pulling at my clit. My breath is heavy. I’m panting, moaning, and I know if any customers come in right now, they can just look around the counter and see me with my skirt up and a head down between my legs. What a sight. But right now, I’m seriously not caring, because he just fucking hummed into my vagina and he might as well have stuck a vibrator in me because I seriously almost just orgasmed right into his mouth right then. My head falls back against the wall and my hands weave through his hair, messing up his spike, pressing his mouth further in between my legs. And then…then he pulls away and blows a fucking raspberry, and my legs quiver. I don’t even stop to wonder if my weight on his head is hurting his neck - instead, I force myself to look down at him. And his eyes are staring up at me. He leans forward, his eyes still holding mine, and he opens is mouth, extends his tongue, and licks my clit, before licking his lips. And swallowing. And then his tongue is coming up my stomach, pushing my skirt up higher, and it’s at that point that I hear the bells of my better conscious ringing, better known as the bell to the front door, and I whimper into his touch before I finally get my hands to respond in order to push him off me. But as soon as his mouth leaves I’m immediately regretting my stupid decision, even though I known a customer is waiting for me right out in the waiting room, or even right by the podium. He doesn’t seem hurt at all, however. In fact, he looks even more smug. His two fingers are in his mouth and leans back against my podium, his tongue running slowly over his fingers and then between the V made by his forefinger and middle finger. My legs twitch.
“You might wanna go to the bathroom and clean up,” he suggests. “Your skirt is so short, I can see some shininess dripping down your thigh.” Neither of us move.
“Or, we could do this the easy way,” he looks at his hand, “and you could take your break now.”
I decided to leave work early.
“I have a pain in my lower abdomen,” I told Daesung. He can take that as he will. Probably thinks I have cramps.
But, really? I’m getting fucked out of my mind on my kitchen table, and my awesome bartender boyfriend is pouring Tequila Sunrises down my stomach and lapping it up before it hits the table. He’s got a pretty fast mouth. And, damn, does that go a long ways…
Fandom: Big Bang
Pairing: YOU x Lee Seunghyun, implied You x GD (yes, this is Het)
Rating: NC-17
Genre: Humor, Erotica
Summary: Work days are better when hot guys come and visit and talk about potent drinks. I guess you can thank me for giving you my shift. Again. :)
Warning: I was trying something new…This is supposed to be you (the reader) talking to…me? Or something like that. I wrote it a while ago and I was thinking about changing it to MxM, but I figure, hey, seriously, most of you readers are female, don’t you want in on the action? Anyways, I was going to do it 2nd person, but then the tone was changed too much…I didn’t want it to sound dark (2nd person made Seungri sound beyond creepy…which…is okay). Anyways. Let me know if this is just waaay too weird. That way I’ll know whether or not to try writing more stuff like this or not. :)
Suave!Seungri.
Mood/Tone:
Yelle - Les femmes (Siriusmo Remix)
http://www.mediafire.com/?ujeribny2dk
Far*East Movement - Girls ON THE Dance Floor
http://www.mediafire.com/?mcmjzmijt3n
(at Kwon’s-this is the song I imagine being played~)
--
I’m working your shift again.
It’s just for tonight, you say, not for the first time. I’m going out with that gardener in my new neighborhood, and, y’know, we’ll probably be late. Thanks so much for rubbing it in, my good friend. Now that you’ve easily switched from one hot guy (tall, charismatic underground rapper with a great office position) to another (buffed out gardener with his own business) and you’re out living the high life of hot sex and delicious foods, you have no to time to commiserate with your younger friend, the one you keep shoving your hours off on. Which, I guess I can’t complain in that respect, because…hey, money is money. So here I am, serving nasty beef and pork sandwiches on delicate plates made out of expensive China along with coffee and two bottled waters with straws. The Eringers. These stupid people come every single Friday night. And they order the same damn thing every time. I gag every time I pick up the plate, but, being a dignified waitress at an establishment such as this, I gotta keep my vomit in my mouth. Although the color would probably do the bland dish some good. And the stench couldn’t get any worse.
See, I decided a few days back to try the vegetarian route. And after a few days of it, I decided it wasn’t as hard as many people made it out to be. The only thing I really miss is the fish, but besides that, beef, pork, chicken? Good riddance. I don’t get on other people’s cases about eating animals: I’m not one of the PETA freaks, ‘cause I can’t get over the fact that they go TOO far pretty much all of the time. But, yeah, I can’t really keep beef down anymore, but the smell is sort of numb to me now. So I’m surviving.
Oh, Daesung is calling my name. I roll my eyes and continue to clean the table of the Gillifers, another regular Friday group. Slobs. You’d think at an elegant restaurant like this people would care a bit more about their appearance and eating etiquette. The people didn’t leave a tip, as usual.
“You’re needed at the front.” He’s singing my name now…that loser, who can’t seem to get it through his head that my name does not have extra letters in it. “I’ve got floor duty, so you go take care of reservations, okay?” I nod at him and give him a neutral smile. He’s a really sweet guy; he’s just so…ignorant. Well, that’s a bit too rough of a description. Innocent? No. Well, yes, but mainly he’s just oblivious. That’s the word. Oblivious. I’m afraid that one day someone will talk him out of his shoes, literally, and he’ll just stand there in his socks wondering why that man in the shady-looking clothing is running away in the middle of a conversation discussing his expensive BAPE kicks, after he’s handed them over.
I stand behind the podium-yes, it looks like a podium so that is what I will call it-and nod to the next person sitting in the waiting room.
“Sir, do you have a reservation?” My eyes are already scanning the book filled with name after name, my insides twisting at the number of coinciding times. We’re going to be crowded tonight.
“Nope, I don’t have a reservation.” My eyebrows furrow (I artistically plucked them this morning so I know that my pained face is not creating a unibrow), and I look up. I’m greeted with a smiling face. Scratch that, a smugly handsome face. If he wasn’t so good looking, I’d probably feel the need to smack him for wearing such a smirk.
“Sir,” I start, slowly, “Tuesdays, Fridays, and Saturdays are our busiest evenings. We only serve reservationists, so I deeply regret that I will have to ask you to make a reservation for another time.” I muster something of a smile at his bright grin, which has suddenly turned completely pure and, dare I say it, gorgeous.
“Am I allowed to continue to wait in that room and sit, just in case there is empty space in a little bit? Maybe someone will cancel.” I can only nod blankly. His face is so gorgeous. I know I’m not drooling, but it sure feels like I ought to oblige him by doing so. He definitely is worthy of drool. As he walks back to the sitting room, the next couple comes forward. They have a reservation. The Genes. Man, I could think of at least 23 jokes off that name…Ha, ha, ha…Am I the only one laughing?
After directing eight parties to their tables, I return to my podium-yes, while I am working up front, the podium is mine-to see the gorgeous man leaning against it. My podium. He is leaning against it. And, damn, what a nice lean he has. I resist the urge to whistle, catcall, or do any other sort of weird, manly things like “DAAAYUUUMM” in which I’d probably come off as some sort of butch girl tryin’ to holla at such a fine piece of man flesh…But, like I said, there he is, leaning against my podium, blocking the next customer from coming forward, and I know that couple has a reservation. The Pullers are another regular couple.
“Sir,” I begin, never dropping my cordial appearance, “may I assist you with something?” His eyes catch mine before they swoop down. I’m not standing behind my podium, so my short skirt is visible to his eyes. Meaning my legs are fully exposed to those gorgeous dark brown eyes-I noticed. Meaning he’s getting what I hope is a good look at some fineeee flesh which he won’t be able to touch. Actually, if he wants to touch it-
“-were some people in front of me, but they said, helllooo~~” His hand is in my face. I back up and step behind my podium. He’s been allowed too much viewing for the night. “Yo,” he says my name, “wake up girly.” My body jerks.
“How do you know my name?” He leans further over my podium towards me and stares at my face before dropping his gaze down to my non-existent chest. Immediately I laugh. Duh, nametag, go girl.
“That’s cute~ you talk to yourself.” Oh lord, what an adorable smile he has. What cute eyes, they nearly disappear…But, man, he must not get enough sleep, check out those dark circles…maybe he works crazy hours like I do.
“Are my dark circles still so noticeable? Aish…” Wait. Did I speak out loud?
“Yes, you’re speaking out loud.”
“I’m sorry, it’s been a really long day.”
“I’ll bet, since you’re working a split shift. Nice friends you’ve got.” I look up from my reservation book and stare at him.
“You were muttering about it when you first walked over here…I just have good ears.” I laugh, slightly unnerved by his attentiveness-but more so at my muttering out loud. He smiles at me again and before I can tell him, again, that he’ll have to wait until someone cancels, he returns to his seat in the waiting room. The Pullers step forward. These two…they’re definitely a couple that could definitely go without eating out a few nights a week. Even though Esquilia is a fine dining restaurant, it still has some fatty meals. Not to mention the meat. But, here they are, once again, same as last week and the week before that, and the week before that, just as they have been doing for almost three years now. I know. I’ve been working here that long. They moved here exactly four days after I did. In the apartment complex across from mine. Meaning they live in the expensive building and I live in the shitty one. Yeay for toilets that don’t work!
“Oh, dear, it’s so nice to see you this evening! You’re always working evenings, aren’t you? We never see you, even though we stop by some times.” They stop by to see me? I don’t really know them, but I guess that’s pretty sweet of them.
“I’ve actually added two more classes to my schedule, so I’ve been at the college campus more, as well. And I picked up another part-time job.” Their eyebrows fly to their hairline in perfect unison.
“Another job? Are you strapped for cash? We can assist.” Mr. Puller. He’s such a weird person. I know it wouldn’t be this way, but the manner in which he offered his money had me thinking they wanted me to do stuff for them. WOW, gross.
“No, I’m just saving up for life in general. Thanks for your offer though. I can show you to your seat.” And, thankfully, Daesung shows up to take them to their table, saving me from having to stand in front of them for about forty minutes talking about things like their grandson’s birthday coming up (July 17th, they’ve been mentioning it every Friday since January), or blah blah blah…
And when I return, there he is, again, leaning against my podium. Only this time, he’s behind the podium, looking at my reservation book, holding my phone!
“Excuse me, sir, can-“ he waves a hand at me to be silent. Completely thunderstruck, I do as he says, ignoring my better judgment to snatch the phone from him and see who he is talking to.
“So you say you would like to reserve…ah, yes ma’am. Two-thirty? Yes, we will be expecting you. Thank you, Mrs. Lennox. Yes, ma’am. Yes, I appreciate it. Good evening.” He shoots a look at me. What type of look is that?
“The phone was ringing for quite some time, where were you.”
“I, I was dealing with another customer,” I replied hotly. I smoothed out my apron and fixed my skirt before pushing him aside and smiling at-no one. There were no customers waiting? What?
“You work really slowly, you know that? These people know where to go, I’ve noticed, they’re all regulars. I know ‘cause I’ve been flipping through your week schedules. All of these people come every week. Man, the food here isn’t that good…”
I’m so in shock I don’t know what to say.
“Do I know you from somewhere?” His wide smile makes me melt. And then I feel really uncomfortable. But I can place the reason.
“Hey, some people are slow, but man you’ve just set a new record.”
“Where…?” He just smiles. God, what a sincere looking smile. And yet…I’m really creeped out. And he doesn’t answer either.
“Do you serve alcohol here?” He flips open a menu, eyes scanning the lines of overpriced meals before he snorts and spins the plastic coated cardboard around to study the lists of potent beverages. His eyes brighten as he lifts up the menu and his finger points to one line of black words.
“Tequila Sunrise.” The words come out of my mouth but no meaning sticks. “You want one?”
“For free?”
I blink.
“No, for $13.95.”
“Damn, it’s that expensive? At Kwon’s it’s only $5.98. How much are refills?”
“$13.95.” His eyes widen briefly before he returns to a grin.
“At Kwon’s it’s only $4.00 for a refill.”
“They must really like drunk people there.”
“It’s a club. The more alcohol, the more loose everyone is. Makes for more fun.”
“Well, here, we price the alcohol as such to deter people from drinking too much. It’s priced at just the right number so people usually stop at about 2, or 3 if they have a good amount of change in their wallet-“
“-or credit on their card.” His eyes drop back to the menu and he continues to smile fondly at the list of drinks. He pops his lips a few times before looking back at me as I start speaking again.
“Anyways. That’s awesome. Kwon’s-“ And as soon as the word touches my tongue, I’m there again. There at the bar, tapping my finger on the table, ordering a drink, Tequila Sunrise, please, and drinking it slowly, enjoying the smooth sensation that calms down all my fried nerves, did you work much today?, what a sweet bartender, so caring about the people who buy his poison, damn, and what a looker, too. He’s got black hair, spiked in the front with long fringes to the side. What a stylish look. And his uniform? Is that even a uniform? He wears it like everyday clothing, not the least bit stiff. You’re new. What brought you here? I smile at him, licking my lips. I was told the music was bangin’ and the drinks were the best to meet town. The bartender flashes white smile. Well, there’s the music. What you think of it? I turn around. My eyes immediately focus on the flashy deejay, his hat turned to the side, large sunglasses, bright clothing, definitely getting’ into the music. The deejay is hot, I tell the bartender, and he just laughs. That seems to be what all the ladies say. His music? I nod. It’s funky. I like his style. Not the standard club shit. He’s got flavor. Now about this drink…The bartender smiles. No good? I stare at the glass, which now stares back, pitifully empty. I would like another, please. He continues to smile as he places a new glass in front of me. He continues to smile as he places a new glass in front of me, not asking for my name, ID, or anything else. Just a glass of alcohol and a sweet smile.
“You drink a lot.” His musical voice snaps me out of my reminiscence.
“Uhm, yeah…”
“And, I gotta say, once you let loose, you let loose.”
What the fuck is that supposed to mean?
“I don’t think I’ve ever been so strongly persuaded to come out from behind the bar and dance. I think Jiyong would have fired me, had you not convinced him otherwise.”
What?
“You’re just a master of persuasion, I guess. Dang. I gotta say, you have a pretty decent repertoire of skills. I’ve never seen someone take Jiyong-hyung over the edge so quickly. You got a helluva mouth.”
What, what, what?!
His eyes directly catch mine. “Can I ask you a very, very serious question?” I’m so flustered at this point, I don’t even respond with my voice. I just look down at my book, on my podium, and hope he doesn’t ask me about today’s special, because I won’t remember all the specifics. I just know it has beef.
“Do you ever get horny at work?”
The words don’t even sink in until he starts speaking again.
“Like, you’re just cleaning tables or something, and suddenly, you just feel the need to bend over the table a little more than necessary because you know there’s a decently hot guy right behind you. And you imagine that he reaches out and feels up your ass. Has that ever happened?”
“…” My face has got to be bright red.
“Or maybe you’re cleaning dishes and you get a bunch of suds on your hands and shirt, and you feel the need to slip your hand between your own legs or up your shirt and touch yourself because the white foam just reminds you of cum, even though the texture is completely different. And you actually do it because no one is looking.”
Am I supposed to respond?
“Or better still, do you ever see a coworker or even your boss and just envision how awesome it would be if you sat up on one of those tables and spread your legs, wearing your short skirt, and he just got a hard on and came up and fucked you out of your mind. Right there, in front of some old couple who was eating spare ribs. And you get sauce all over your back and ass, and your boss or whoever pours some between your legs and just licks it all off. And he keeps going and going, and the old woman faints, but the old man is freaking out of his mind, enjoying himself, saying, ‘Wow, what a great anniversary gift, thank you Mary, you’re the best wife ever!’ And even though he’s making weird noises to the side, you’re just concentrating on clenching your legs, getting the best feeling.” He rests his chin in his palm and looks up at my bright red face. My eyes are wide but I can’t see anything. I’m so in shock.
“Or maybe you might surprise one of the cooks in the back-“
“Stop!” I’m about to explode from embarrassment! What a strange person!!!
“Hey, your skirt…” he steps back and eyes my legs. I hadn’t even noticed that he was standing next to me behind my podium until he stepped back. He crouches down, his eyes scanning my backside. I blush and turn away, my hands covering up…uselessly. His eyes still stare at my legs. Then he stands up, a satisfied smirk on his lips. He strides forward and pins me between the nook of the podium and the counter, out of view of any other workers or customers.
“I’ve always found it sexy when women come to work in skirts…without underwear.” My eyes widen and suddenly I am very conscious of the air that is flowing between my legs. How could he tell? Jeez, a girl can’t be comfortable without a guy gettin’ up in her grill! He’s placed one hand up on the wall next to my head, leaning in, while his other hand wastes no time in slipping beneath my skirt and brushing me lightly. My legs are clenched together, but his slender fingers easily slip between them. My back presses completely against the wall his two fingers slid against my clit, and soon my hips are pushing forward, urging him to actually press in. He leans his forearm against the wooden wall and he presses more close, catching my lips in an open mouth kiss. His fingers fully enter me, exit, enter, and soon my hips are actually bucking into his hand. His lips break off from mine and he has dropped to his knees, his hands pushing my skirt up just above my pubic hair. His warm hands spread my legs and it takes all of the wall’s sturdiness and his strength to keep me from collapsing on to him. His mouth is between my legs in that same moment and as I stare down at him, his eyes closed, completely enjoying the flavor, I would guess, his tongue is pressing into me just as his fingers were, and his lips pulling at my clit. My breath is heavy. I’m panting, moaning, and I know if any customers come in right now, they can just look around the counter and see me with my skirt up and a head down between my legs. What a sight. But right now, I’m seriously not caring, because he just fucking hummed into my vagina and he might as well have stuck a vibrator in me because I seriously almost just orgasmed right into his mouth right then. My head falls back against the wall and my hands weave through his hair, messing up his spike, pressing his mouth further in between my legs. And then…then he pulls away and blows a fucking raspberry, and my legs quiver. I don’t even stop to wonder if my weight on his head is hurting his neck - instead, I force myself to look down at him. And his eyes are staring up at me. He leans forward, his eyes still holding mine, and he opens is mouth, extends his tongue, and licks my clit, before licking his lips. And swallowing. And then his tongue is coming up my stomach, pushing my skirt up higher, and it’s at that point that I hear the bells of my better conscious ringing, better known as the bell to the front door, and I whimper into his touch before I finally get my hands to respond in order to push him off me. But as soon as his mouth leaves I’m immediately regretting my stupid decision, even though I known a customer is waiting for me right out in the waiting room, or even right by the podium. He doesn’t seem hurt at all, however. In fact, he looks even more smug. His two fingers are in his mouth and leans back against my podium, his tongue running slowly over his fingers and then between the V made by his forefinger and middle finger. My legs twitch.
“You might wanna go to the bathroom and clean up,” he suggests. “Your skirt is so short, I can see some shininess dripping down your thigh.” Neither of us move.
“Or, we could do this the easy way,” he looks at his hand, “and you could take your break now.”
I decided to leave work early.
“I have a pain in my lower abdomen,” I told Daesung. He can take that as he will. Probably thinks I have cramps.
But, really? I’m getting fucked out of my mind on my kitchen table, and my awesome bartender boyfriend is pouring Tequila Sunrises down my stomach and lapping it up before it hits the table. He’s got a pretty fast mouth. And, damn, does that go a long ways…