You have just ONE drink...
The shots just keep on coming. Who knows how many have flown from barkeep's hand, across table, into your hand, and down the hatch. Too many times to count, and way passed the point of caring. All you do know is that life just reeks. You always hear these stories that the dog runs away, or someone getting into a car crash without insurance. Bad luck and horrible fortune. As far as you remember, when you would hear this, you'd say "sucks" and go back about your day. But now? Now... You need another shot.
Some people would say "it's not so bad", but there's only so much someone can take in the end. You spend ten long years in the Royal Lunar Academy, training to be a member of the Night Guard. But what happens? Flat out of luck, caught on some old ticket issued by the Royal Guard when you were younger. So, no protecting the princesses for you. No. Ten years of Royal duty amounts to a warning and the bottom of a shot glass. Sucks to be you, sucks to be them, life just sucks...
There's tipped shot glasses and half filled ones sprawled out against the table in front of you; the bar tab's going to be steep and your wallet felt bone dry an hour ago. But what does it matter? Your head, heart, and body already feel like crap. Why not send your gut and other organs right down with them? The barkeep slides you another lofty shot of whatever burden or beer or something he's been sending you all night. Your wobbling fingers grip as finely as they can, given the fact your vision is telling you there's about six shots your reaching for. You tip it back, looking the glass over before waving a sloshed salute to the disappointed barkeep.
It goes down smooth. Or, at least you thought it did until you noticed the liqueur dribble down your chin and making a nice wet splotch against your shirt. Maybe if you weren't already so far both ways, you'd give a little bit about it. But, what did it matter? First your shot hand falls against the table, then your head. Disheveled hair drapes over your eyes and only serves to make the blurred bar lights that much more distorted and splotchy. What does it all matter? You resign to just laying on that bar counter. The barkeep will either throw you out and take your wallet, or call the cops and get some sort of lawsuit on you for skipping a bill. Either way, you couldn't pay off this many shots with your burnt pocket.
Seems all kind of sad. You came to drown out all your sorrows with a few quick drinks and some choice words to a barkeep that'd listen. That's how they always did it in the movies. But, what they didn't tell you in the movies is that once you get that first drink in, depression hits you like a hard wall and before you know it, you're swigging down shots knowing full well you can't pay for a single one. In fact, you can already hear the barkeep stomping on over to you from behind the counter. Any minute now, you'll be thrown out or carried out. Not like this night could get any worse...
...And yet, you do feel the barkeep lay a hand on you. But it's brief, nothing more then a simple tap on your shoulder. "Hey--uh--kid?" You manage a look up at him, confused at the genuine tone he had, "If you're done drinking, mind stepping away from my counter?"
"But... I di'n' pah..." God. You didn't realize just how sloshed you were until you spoke. Your throat felt dry, even after slamming down so many wet ones.
The barkeep just tossed a thumb over his shoulder, pointing out a woman around the bend of the bar. "Lady paid you off. So, you going?"
You long since stopped caring about the burly barkeep and just looked at this patriot maiden of paying off bar tabs. Even from afar, you could distinguish her with a silky complexion as she pursed her fingers delicately under her chin. Her sharp, aqua eyes were staring you down from muddled hair to splotchy shirt. You may have been drunk, but that stare was a sobering experience. The woman drew back in her stool at the other end of the bar and you staggered to make yourself... presentable. Scraggy chin, unkempt hair, sullen shirt, and shot glasses decorating the spot in front of you? You looked like a regular Romeo.
Fixing up what little there was about your current state, you kept an eye on the mystery woman. Dark nylon stockings tightly gripped against her long, slender legs; a black business skirt up against her shapely hips that swayed this way and that with an almost practiced grace about them; and to top it off, a sleeveless white blouse showing just enough of her ample cleavage, enough to show you the heart shaped necklace dangling precariously between her hills. When she finally stood before you, dark lavender hair framing around her stunningly beautiful face, you struck a smile and tried to speak.
"Th'nks..." So close to a real word.
She eyed you over one final time and ran a few fingers through her hair. "Since I paid your tab, you can imagine that I both have no expectations of you driving home, nor of you being able to pay for transportation," one of her hands was offered to you, delicate fingers outstretched as she made for a small, sweet smile, "And I very well cannot leave such a lush to wonder the streets while in the haze of intoxication. No offence, but that usually leads to someone getting hurt. Come, I will escort you somewhere much more suitable for you to collect yourself."
Now, being drunk you accepted her proposal at that. But, thinking about it if you weren't drunk... You'd probably still take that woman's hand. Her hand feels as soft as your shaky hand takes hold of it. She helps you to your feet and holsters your arm over her shoulder, helping you walk along with her towards the exit. Through your haze and drunken state, you manage to piece out a flaw with her idea, voicing it as it came to you. "W-Wait... Escor' meh where?"
The door of the bar opened as she pushed her free hand against it and turned a look at you. Her kind, sweet smile had evolved into a sly, plotting smirk. "Why, to my home, darling. After all, alone you might hurt someone on the street... And darling, I want all of that 'hurt' for me..." her voice purred and chilled against your spine while simultaneously burning your ears.
The events after that moment fall a bit blurry to you, admittedly. But, you can still remember making out the sign of the building this mystery-bar-tab-paying-woman dragged you into. "Carousal Boutique".
The clothes just keep on falling. At the foot of the front door leading into this strange woman's house was now decorated with a soaked shirt and a white blouse while every foot leading across the room and up the stairs of the house had been adorned with careless discards of shoes, socks, pants, a skirt, stockings, and everything beneath. You have no idea what would happen if you were just a little bit more sober, but for what it was worth, this moment here was just fine. Within this woman's bedroom, you laid out against her bed, legs hanging off the side and letting her sit on your chest, hands pinning the ground on either side of your spinning head. Her cleavage, hugged tightly by a not-at-all modest bra hung just into your sight, along with her clenched teeth holding a unused condom.
"Saddle up, cowboy," even through clenched teeth, her sultry voice sounds all the more primal, aided strongly by her lustful eyes gazing into you through your eyes. Your mind is too swirled to muster an answer, but your body is filled with enough liquid courage to make its own mind up. The woman shivers against you, fingers curling into balled fists as she feels your coming erection slide against her pantie line and her moist regions. "Oh my..." she muttered, lips and teeth parting just enough to let the condom drop against your naked chest, "It has been awhile since I rode bareback..."
The way her sophisticated tone mingles with what was going on sent your erection to cradle against her silk undergarments even more. She bit firmly into her bottom lip and fluttered her eyes shut, purely reveling in the latent tension between a hungry cock and a guarded pussy. She brought a hand away from the side of your head to peel to the side her soaked panties. Though first dabbing the tip of your dick with her soaked panties and setting in a wet, hot sensation to it. "Now then... Whenever you--OOOooO!" her words fell into a garble of sudden pained pleasure as your hips lanced upward and stabbed into her wanting sex.
Her snatch tightened around your shaft, wringing out against it and throbbing with hot juices slicking down your manhood. Her body tenses up, but her expression only becomes more lewd as she gasps and suddenly claws her nails against your chest. "WAH-HAH! Don't--please--Don't keep it still. Ravish me! Ravish me and ravage me at once!" Her demands do not fall on deaf ears.
Your hands grip around her hips and force her down into meeting your hips, squelching your dick as deep as her womanhood would allow and then-some. Your tip rolls against her most private and secretive passage, electing mewls of desire from the woman flexing above you from toe to fingers. Her shoulders rise and fall, rolling against her body as she breathes hotly. "More...Please, keep going..." Words you thought you'd never hear from a woman who picked you up at a bar, surprisingly.
Your hips feed more and more into her, bouncing her body upward before letting it fall back onto your shaft again and again, escalating her moans and your grunts with each clapping impact of naked hips together. You feel her nails scratch and work harshly against your chest, but the pleasure pulsating deep within this woman is more then enough to null that out. Each thrust you manage sends your mind into a new haze; a haze of desire for this mysterious woman you're now fucking so freely. Her hair cascades around her, making her out to be as elegant and beautiful as sexual and primal.
Beside yourself with pleasure, you feed a final thrust into her pussy, letting a harsh torrent of seed fill her up and spill out just around the base of your shaft. The woman, impaled by your manhood looked down at you, her fingers now stroking slow, gentle patterns against your slightly blood-clawed chest. Her lips pursed slightly and her hips wagged from side to side, still holding your tired shaft firmly within her sex. "My-my... I hope you are even more entertaining sober..." She growled lightly, snapping playfully at you with bared teeth before rolling to your side and reluctantly giving up your manhood.
Now, laying out on a strange woman's bed after having her pay for a night of drinks for you and practically offering a round two some other day... Maybe... Just maybe... Life isn't so bad. I mean... If it was so bad, would you ever get the chance to have sex with a such a fine woman like this one? Your hand curls out and you unconsciously stroke the side of your mysterious lover for the night. A warm smile tenderly forms against her lips and she worms her way closer to you, resting her chin against your shoulder and caressing your arm close to her near naked cleavage. "We absolutely must exchange information some time. It would be an absolute shame to lose such a nice man like you after this night. It's so rare to find a man that will just... Fuck you--excuse my language--out of the blue with no strings attached."
Yeah... Life really isn't that bad when you think about it and look at it. And, for right now... Life has a really nice 'look' about her.
