Editor's note: this submission contains scenes of non-consensual, dubiously consensual or reluctant sexual situations.
*
The grating thump of the bass already exacerbates my rapidly developing migraine as I approach the bar, but I don't give a damn. The steadily lowering crimson sun is intent on glaring directly into my fucking retinas, stinging them. Today can in a few words be described as, "A Raging Shit Storm without an Umbrella," or, "The Effectiveness of American Politics." It's not a good day. My tennis shoes drag along the ground and my shoulders hunch beneath their wrinkled t-shirt until I grasp the door handle and pull. Why am I even doing this to myself?
Inside is a relatively soothing darkness, despite slivers of the afternoon glare peeking in through boarded up windows. At the bar is Claus, the douchebag living fossil with a heart of gold, or that's what I call him. His shining bald head lifts up and he peers under bushy white eyebrows at me. He nods, then goes back to his reading. He won't serve me until he's good and ready, and I don't have the energy to fight it today. I sit down at the stool farthest from the entrance, place my phone on the bar, and stare at it. Hopefully that's a good enough signal not to talk to me.
I dare to take a peek at the people around me. It's a pretty normal crowd, nothing really to write home about. A few faces I recognize, but make sure my body language firmly says, "leave me alone." Eventually, Claus stirs from his nook and shuffles his way over to me, stopping to refill two other patron's drinks on his way. He looks tired, as usual.
"You look like shit, twink," he says, dry as ever. I wonder if he even knows my name at all. He at the very least knows my drink order as he begins pouring, and let's be honest, liquor is the true way to my heart.
"Thanks Claus. That makes me feel loads better," I return. "Got fired today. Again. Well, third time actually, but this time was especially bullshit."
"I didn't ask." He pauses, eyes still rooted on his pale hands. "But I'm sorry to hear that, twinkle." As I go for my wallet, he leans in closer. "Now, don't worry about that. Mister Rolex and Calvin Klein over there already bought it."
I look to my left, but like, try to not seem like I'm looking to my left. There, two seats down, sits a man in his late 20's or early 30's. He looks clean and neat, with a form-fitting white button down and brown slacks. He's a bit pretentiously dressed for this dump heap of a bar, if I'm being honest. There's just a light dusting of stubble on his otherwise immaculate and well-tanned face. I can tell he's watching me in his peripheral vision as he stares ahead with picture perfect posture. He's hot, and intrigues me to the point I nearly forget that I'm having a horrible day. I look back at Claus.
"What do you think? Murderer? Cat burglar? Maybe just a date rapist?" I muse on the old bear.
"Like you would mind, you skinny slut." He chuckles and walks away to resume his book once more. As I take a sip of my drink I see the man look in my direction. I try not to stiffen my body too much and act natural but I'm certainly unnerved. Who buys people drinks anymore? Go on Grindr or something if you wanna talk to people. Can't someone just sit and be fucking miserable once in a while? I look back down at my phone and nurse my drink. There's a couple messages, mostly from nameless numbers of guys I've likely met here, and even one from my previous employer calling me an "Unsophisticated perverted freak!" What a fucking cun-
"Hi," says a voice directly behind me, startling me. I manage to not spill my drink, a small victory. Turning my head slowly, I face him and can't help but grin sheepishly; he's very good looking up close, damn. He smells lovely and masculine, stands about six foot tall, I reckon. "Do you mind if I take a seat?" he asks, then sits down beside me without waiting for an answer. What a prick.
"Hi?" I say, still very unsure about this. Though I'm trying to sound annoyed at my invasion of privacy, the guy is just too damn charming for me to be outright rude. He certainly doesn't notice my efforts as he smiles down at me. Dimples. Fucking dimples, really? I can feel my cheeks beginning to blush and try to hide it with a long suck of my drink.
"I'm new to town. This is one of my first places I've checked out." He leans in a little closer to me, "And honestly, before you came in I was feeling pretty down about my decision to come here." The flattery makes me feel butterflies, I can't help it. Damn it, stay mad Jazz! This is a bad day! Try to frown. Nope, can't at the moment. Almost involuntarily, I hold out my hand to the stranger and look into his eyes.
