Whiskey In a Teacup

Chapter 4

'Hey old man, how about that blonde over there?'

I followed Trey's gaze, to a woman sitting at the other end of the bar, circling the top of her glass with a finger. I could tell this was part of her routine even though i'd been out of the game for some time. She looked over at Trey, a coy smile on her lips.

'I think she's fallen for you, buddy.'

I slapped him on the back, as he took his cue and headed over to her, leaving me sitting on the bar stool like a spare part. I watched them for a while, trying not to look like some creep as Trey worked his magic. The boy knew what he was doing. He seduced her with finesse and even though I didn't keep time, I'm pretty sure it took him less than five minutes to have her wrapped around his finger. And his torso.

My eyes trailed the highly glossed bar and night club, the bass line thumping through the floor, reverberating through me. It would be impossible for anyone to hear anything without leaning in to whisper in the ear of their companion. Maybe that was the idea, in any other situation, getting so close so soon would send alarm bells off in the head of a woman. But accompanied by generic RnB music, it was acceptable. Bodies writhed against one another, almost like a mating dance, the women picking off the weaker men and upgrading to tall, tanned men who looked like they lived in a gym, standing around the dance floor ready to thrust against the pretty nightclubbers on the dance floor.

I felt old. Really old. Like any second the police would arrive and escort me off the presence for being some ancient pervert hanging around a club I had no business being at. While Trey went from woman to woman till they all seemed to be hanging off him, I drank my weight in beer. The prices were twice what I'd pay in O'Flanagan's but Trey had a tab. Of course he did. He had to come here at least twice a week. I went to take a piss, jostling past the heaving, dancing bodies and making my way to the rest room.

Standing in front of the mirror, washing my hands, I was thankful of a little silence. The bass line was still present, but the rest of the music was blissfully drowned out and finding myself alone I washed my face. It's something I did whenever I got nervous, whenever I felt like the proverbial fish out of water. I'd never done the whole clubbing scene. By the time I was old enough to drink in places like this I had two children and a job that I committed myself to. I didn't have time to miss doing all the things I should have been doing, because my life was so full on, so crazy, that I had no choice but to go with it.

The overwhelming urge to go visit the girls was halted only by my fear of face to face rejection. They were avoiding me. They felt betrayed by me. Maybe they thought I should have worked harder with their mother. Maybe they were right.

I heard the door open but I was too wrapped up in my own self created world to see who entered. I washed my face again, leaning over the sink, and trying to take in as much air as my lungs could accommodate. As you might imagine, air quality in here wasn't premium but it served to soothe my galloping heart.

'You've been in here a really long time guy.'

I turned my head, surprised to hear a female voice. Standing against the closed rest room door, stood a brunette wearing daisy dukes and a silver chainmail top. She couldn't be more than twenty one.

'Youre checking up on me?' I asked with humour, realising that Trey probably sent her in here.

'I work here.' She took a step forward, crossing her arms across her generous bust. 'Colin, my manager, he asked me to step in here. It's not usually a good sign when a guy holes up in the rest room for forty five minutes.'

Forty five minutes? How had so much time passed? Why hadn't Trey come looking for me?

Two words. Tits and ass.