My Blank Slate

Chapter Three.

Notes- Again slight TW for harassment/SA (again nothing graphic). Cheeky Mialotte mention for you guys don't say I don't treat you.

The next few weeks were nothing new. Sara would come in, do her shift, an attractive woman would take her fancy and she would feel obligated to flirt. The woman, of course, would turn her down and tell her ever so politely that she was in a relationship, which Sara respected completely. Keith would talk to her, find any reason to be close to her, snake the odd hand round her waist as he's 'grabbing a glass'. There's nothing she could do really, if she ever brought up how uncomfortable it would make her feel he would simply put it down to being 'friendly.'

This particular night, a couple Sara recognised came into the bar. She leaned against the bar slightly, watching in awe as the redhead's eyes immediately melted upon looking at the brunette she was next to, like she was her very reason for living. Sara felt guilty, as she had only recognised them from flirting with the redhead that one time a while back, but as she watched the two women look at each other like it was only the two of them in the world, Sara was glad she was rejected. One day, she hoped to find someone that looked at her like that.

''What can I get for you ladies'' Sara said, walking up to them, after finally stepping out of her admiring trance to go and serve them. The brunette couldn't help but glare slightly at the waitress, an air of jealousy still in the back of her mind from their last encounter. Mia noticed this and a smirk flashed across her face, but just for a moment, she must admit she felt honoured that someone would get so jealous over the idea of another person flirting. ''An expresso martini for me, thanks. Char?'' Mia looked over expectantly. At this, Charlotte became aware of the almost possessive demeanour she was giving off and shook her head slightly before plastering on a smile and replying ''Just a cosmopolitan for me, thank you.''

As Sara walked back into the bar area to prepare the drinks, she was met with leering eyes over her shoulder. Her whole demeanour tensed slightly as she watched Keith feign reading the notepad, while standing over her from behind. ''You're making it wrong.'' Keith critiqued, but there was no annoyance in his voice, there was almost a hint of desire. ''Here, let me show you.''

Sara didn't know what to do as Keith leaned over from behind her and began 'helping' making the cocktail. His arms were firmly placed either side of her as he poured the drink from the shaker into the glass. Sara tensed up more slightly, the feeling of his hands so close, his body almost pressed up against her as he grabbed the orange decoration peel and placed it delicately onto the glass. He's just helping me make a drink. Why am I so scared? Am I being irrational?

After the drink was made, Keith moved himself out of her personal space, a little too slowly for Sara's comfort, and gave her a quick 'you're welcome' before walking back into his office. Sara's thoughts were racing, she knew she hated every second of that. She knew she could still feel his presence looming over her, his breath slightly touching her neck as he spoke about the cocktail. She knew she felt uncomfortable and unsafe but what was she meant to do realistically? Oh, my manager helped me make a cocktail and it scared me. She was completely alone in this. And that's the way it will always be.

Sara quickly made her way to the happy couple's table, quickly putting down their drinks with a slight nod before making her way into the back part of the bar. The two women were taking aback by her suddenness, yet she didn't have time to care. When she finally made it to the bathroom, and locked the stall, the weight of everything hit her. His hands close to her, his almost predatory words, the fear she felt being near him. As Sara slowly slid down the wall with her head in her hands, all she could do was cry. The tears flowed freely and she felt like she was trapped in her own thoughts, like nothing in the real world existed. She stayed like that on the floor for some time, letting her emotions flow for the first time in a while. She didn't know what to do. She didn't know if she could ever talk about this with anyone. She didn't know if this was in fact all in her head and she was letting her overreactions cloud her judgement of her manager. All that she knew was she hated it.

It made her feel sick.