#strminyoung

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strminyoung

The rattling sound of keys echoed down the empty halls. With a small sigh, Jongin twisted the doorknob open and entered his safe haven–his home. Why was he so tired today? He thought about the possible causes of this fatigue he was suffering. The time he went to bed: eleven pm, as usual. His breakfast: a cup of coffee, an egg, sunny side up, and a buttered toast. Nothing unusual. He yawned softly as he plopped down onto his couch and looked around. As expected, there was nothing but this familiar silence and his soft breaths. Soon, the ticking of the wall clock caught his attention and he averted his gaze to it. It was six in the afternoon, three hours before his night shift at the local pub. He thought about how he should manipulate those three hours and all he could think of was a novel and a nap. With quiet footsteps, he walked over to his bedroom, grabbed his favorite novel at the moment, and settled in his bed.

It was 8:34 PM, the summer skies were darkening and the neighborhood was coming alive. Jongin woke up, his novel face down next to him on the page he was reading. He reached over for his phone and checked the time. Breathing a small breath of relief, he got up and rubbed his eyes. He took a shower, got dressed in his usual monochromatic clothing, and checked the time. 8:48 PM. He walked out of his comfort zone to the night streets for his night shift, mentally preparing to converse with customers, who were practically strangers. Talking was not his forte, but the stories his customers ranted about were quite interesting and all he had to do was listen, nod, and smile. It was entertaining, actually. 

+ strminyoung

She was here again.  Cheri swore under her breath, venomous words so gracefully rolled between stained-red lips as her eyes gauged the thickness of milky thighs moving along the wooden floor of the pub with such intent that the current cocktail had gone to waste, shaken one too many times and leaving a sticky mess along her hands. “Fuck,” and this one wasn’t so pretty, coming from a man directly in front of the female bartender, gruff voice snapping her straight from a daydream of pretty legs on her bar counter and a quiet mewl of Cheri, please. “That better be on the damn house, waste’a my time.” And no way in hell would a grey goose martini ever be on the house, she thought as she salvaged what was left in the shaker and tipped the spout of the bottle for just a hint more of liquor - if the man was deceived into believing he had more alcohol, then he’d surely forego the mistake she had made.

But then came that voice, one Cheri memorized as the owner of those deliciously plump thighs and delightfully full hips. When had anyone flustered the well-known bartender into messing up an order? When she was younger, perhaps, and less experienced, sure. But not now, not when her career and lifestyle depended on the poised nature of her mixing and the sultry flirting she had thrown in free of charge, or so the customer was made to believe; after all, her tips surely spiked with a sly smile or a pretty lil’ wink sent towards her favored male customers. Finishing up with a small garnish on the side of the martini glass, Cheri settled the drink on the sleek counter and allowed time for the man to fish out the appropriate amount of money, followed shortly by a, “Keep the change,” before he disappeared further into the lounge.

Finally. This granted Cheri enough time to recollect herself over the sink as she rinsed the shaker carefully, fully aware of the sudden change in atmosphere as the lead girl of her daydream lent an elbow over the counter, small talk amongst friends of which cocktail they’d try tonight and if they’d rather have a cold beer from the cooler.

“Evening folks,” Cheri cocked her attention towards the less appealing friends that she was hoping to serve first and usher away from the bar, checking the I.D.s and then appropriately taking care of them. Simple enough, as they had decided on a few IPA’s they had recently invested in to showcase on their many available taps. Attention now on their drinks, the strawberry-blonde formulated her sentences quickly and pressed herself closer to the counter, square in front of the younger-looking female. A smile danced over her lipstick-dressed lips as Cheri purposely allowed her eyes to graze the female’s body up and down, of what could be seen from their position.