"I don't understand why you're getting so upset about this!" John arrogantly protested as I angrily stood from my chair and tossed my napkin on the table. "Why is it a big deal if we wrap up dinner so I can head to the game with the guys? I mean, come on, it's the middle of the pennant race!" My eyes looked from our entrees -- freshly arrived at the table -- to the restaurant bar where three of John's friends beckoned him to join them, tapping their watches impatiently.
The temperature of our argument had risen quickly as John doubled down and dug in that he'd done nothing wrong in abruptly bailing on our date to leave for a baseball game. The fact we were out to dinner to celebrate my promotion -- and raise! -- seemed irrelevant to him in waging his defense. That I'd been forced to wait for and reschedule tonight's date three times because of John's unpredictable work commitments also failed to register with him as a factor in my frustration at his allowing his friends to intrude on our time together.
Without leaving his seat, John reached across the table and grabbed my wrist. "Like I said, I'd ask them if you can come, but I'm sorry, they don't have an extra ticket. Jeez, calm down..." Surely, at some level, John must have realized his mistake before those two lethal words passed his lips, but by the time his eyes slowly blinked in agonized recognition, I had twisted my hand free of his grasp and snatched my handbag from the chair.
Bending over the table toward John, letting the plunging V-neck of my dress wilt downward to flaunt my ripe, bra-less tits -- a mesmerizing reminder of what he would not be partaking in tonight because of his choices -- I delivered my cutting goodnight to my boyfriend. "I'm gonna go 'calm down' somewhere else. Enjoy your night out with your douchebag friends." I whirled toward the exit, glanced over my shoulder to deliver my parting shot, "Call me when -- if! -- you grow up!" then fiercely stalked through the dining room out to the street.
Outside, I breathed deeply, letting the fall night air cool my flushed cheeks and chest. I strode purposefully away down the sidewalk, unsure of where I was headed but unwilling to appear so in case John was watching through the restaurant's glass front doors -- like he should be! "God! He can be such an idiot!" I hissed aloud to the surprise and amusement of other pedestrians.
My bright blue pumps clicked crisply on the sidewalk, the steps striking quickly as I hurried to the intersection. I paused at the crossing, reading the street signs, and pondering my next move. Clear of the cover of buildings, the wind gusted down the open street. I hunched my shoulders and rubbed my bare arms against the autumn chill; the body-hugging yellow polyester of my sleeveless dress did nothing to block the cold, and, in my huff, I'd forgotten my jacket at the restaurant. Fighting to stop my teeth from chattering, I cursed John's rudeness for causing my own mental lapse.
I tried and failed to hail five cabs in a row. "What's the good in foregoing a bra if I can't even get a cabbie to stop?!" I wondered, flummoxed at the failure of my dress's short hemline and deep cleavage to attract a driver's attention when I needed it. I racked my brain for options. I certainly couldn't walk the three miles uptown to my apartment in these heels. After another glance at the cross-streets, an idea kindled in my cold brain and my stiffening fingers typed out a text. My friend Lucy worked a couple nights a week as a bartender at a fancy hotel a few blocks away; hopefully she was working tonight, otherwise I remained at the mercy of the oblivious cabbies.
"Tell me you're working tonight! Can I come hang out?" I prayed that she had picked up a Friday shift, and that she wasn't too busy to check her phone. I was relieved to see the 'responding' bubble pop-up immediately.
"Hey hottie! You're always welcome, and tonight is dead AF so please come entertain me!" I looked to the sky in thanks and tucked my wavy red hair out of my face behind my ear. Confirming I'd see her in a few minutes, I silenced my phone and put it away in my purse, then hurried through the intersection and down the six blocks to the hotel.
Ten minutes later, the smiling doorman tipped his cap as I passed through the front doors. "Brisk out there tonight, eh, Miss?" he greeted me, his eyes following the jiggling march of my rack beneath the clingy yellow dress. I politely returned his smile, scoffing in my head "Sure, 'now' they're drawing attention!", then crossed the large lobby toward the bar. Near the bank of elevators, people were arranging folding tables in a 'U' in front of a stack of boxes. I hurried past; I had urgent griping to do with Lucy.
As I approached the bar doors, confusion mounted in my mind. Lucy had clearly said it was a quiet night; in fact, she'd basically begged me to come because it was 'dead AF'. But from outside the doorway, the crowded bar rumbled with rowdy voices. I entered and saw the booths and pub tables packed with bodies. Every cluster of patrons seemed to simultaneously interact with each of the surrounding groups, until the din of the room hung in the air like smog. I noticed that everyone in the boisterous crowd was dressed head-to-toe in blue and gold, which could explain the friendliness between parties.
Grappling my way through the mob to the bar, I wedged myself into an open stool between pulsing knots of bodies. Behind the bar, Lucy scurried between customers. The wall of arms waved over the rail like a forest of sea anemones, every person frantically trying to draw Lucy's attention, brandishing a card or a fistful of cash. She somehow spotted me in the crowd and conveyed "I'll talk to you in a minute" with her frenetic eyes. With my arms crossed on the counter to defend my position, I nodded in reply, wearing an expression of astonishment at the bar's crowded condition.
Lucy approached my spot, handing out beer bottles as she went. Grinning mischievously as I held her eye-contact, I propped my D-cups invitingly on top of my crossed forearms. The plump globes swelled out of the open V of my dress, the exposed flesh screaming for attention above the racket. "Who do I have to fuck to get a drink around here?!" I jokingly demanded, shouting to make my voice heard.
"Damn, baby!" she laughed while holding up one 'just a second' finger to twenty customers at once. "You know most nights I'd bend you over the bar, myself..." she started fixing a vodka soda without my asking, "But tonight got fucking crazy!"
"Yeah, when did this happen? Fifteen minutes ago, you said it was dead!" I took my drink and sipped through the doubled cocktail straw as she answered.
"It was! Then..." Lucy threw out her arms in bewilderment. "They're all State fans -- I guess there's a game in town tomorrow -- hence the matching color scheme. This is the official team hotel or whatever. I gotta get back to work... But hey! At least you fit in! Well, your outfit at least..." She pushed a backup drink into my hand, then kissed her fingers and touched them to my cheek before rushing back up the gauntlet of customers.
I sipped my drink, a little bummed that my friend was too busy to listen to me grouse about my dud of a boyfriend. At least Lucy would take home plenty of tips tonight. I watched her slender figure move as she gracefully whirled behind the counter, serving each customer in turn. A pretty girl in a bar full of thirsty football fans stood to make a killing with a crowd like this. "But what did she mean 'my outfit' fits in?" I pondered. "Why would I not otherwise..."
A woman bumped my hip as she fought for space at the bar, interrupting my train of thought. I glanced over and saw her glittery gold pants paired with a blue jersey tied off above her waist; my heels and dress definitely matched the clothes of the partisan crowd. The woman excitedly embraced someone on her other side, her butt jarred my leg every time she moved. By the time I finished my first cocktail, I had talked myself into blaming John for my choked surroundings in this noisy bar, rather than the quiet bistro where my canard a l'orange was going uneaten. The only small consolation was that I'd stuck him with the check. "Idiot..." I muttered under my breath, not realizing how much my voice carried despite the noise of the room.
