Whisky Sour [Closed] - Printable Version

Whisky Sour [Closed] - Printable Version

+- alonimi (https://alonimi.net)
+-- Forum: Contemporary (https://alonimi.net/forumdisplay.php?fid=71)
+--- Forum: Miscellaneous (https://alonimi.net/forumdisplay.php?fid=87)
+--- Thread: Whisky Sour [Closed] (/showthread.php?tid=699)

Pages: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8

RE: Whisky Sour [Closed] - saronym - 06-17-2017

Renton had his fill of donuts after one. In truth, he had brought them mostly for Julianna anyways, so it felt good to watch her enjoying the treats. He settled on his stool and took to nursing his coffee steadily.

When Julianna finally acquiesced to his use of the space for the birthday party, Renton did a little seated jump and clapped his hands together once in delight. “You won’t regret it. And make it expensive. His friends are paying and they will pay whatever price I tell them to.” He seemed proud of his level of power in planning the party with almost unlimited spending possibilities.

Renton scoffed at the question. “I’m his assistant. Meddling in his personal life is half my job. He doesn’t get to complain to me about his love life and then not expect me to do something about it. Besides, when he’s having a bad time so am I. When his personal life is non-existent so is mine. I can't remember the last time I had time for a date.” He sighed.

He drummed his fingers on the bartop, “I’m assuming you have a party planner you can recommend me?”

RE: Whisky Sour [Closed] - megs - 06-19-2017

Two and three-quarter donuts later and Julianna’s stomach was beginning to protest. She chewed slowly, forcing herself through the remains of the pastry as she listened to Renton speak. There was the slightest of winces at the corners of her eyes at the sharp pang that was the start of a sugar-induced stomachache. The expression was simultaneous with the assistant insisting she wouldn’t regret it, if he noticed at all maybe he would think she was just silently disagree with him. Finally, she swallowed and washed it down with a long drink of her cooling coffee. It was possibly less the donut, and the thinking about Owen that left her feeling this way.

She suppressed an eye roll when Renton claimed to have meddling liberties. “Fine,” she said, even though she didn’t have to. She had already agreed to the party. Basically agreed to forcing herself to face Owen again, even though she wasn’t sure if she really wanted too. Julianna had been left with the impression that that ship had long sailed, and she had not been allowed on board. She closed the box of donuts and worked on centering perfectly with the edge of the bar counter, just so she would have something to focus on that wasn’t the chipper assistant-slash-almost-friend seated across from her.

Eventually, Renton was on his way with a ridiculously expensive quote for renting the bar and the business card for Julianna’s best friend and go to event planner: Maeve Reed.

Jules couldn’t help but hope that Owen would catch wind of Renton’s plan and cancel the whole thing before she’d have to face him. In the two weeks that passed she checked her phone obsessively for that one message that would call the whole thing off.

No such luck.

Which is why Julianna was currently, stuck behind the bar, serving whisky sours and dark and stormys to Owen and thirty-five or so of his friends and colleagues. She wore her usual black skinny jeans, but instead of the usual Hopscotch t-shirt she wore a deep blue button up. She also wore black suspenders and a cute matching bowtie; her hair loose around her shoulders. It was just a thing that they did at the bar when they had parties. A cute little old-timey thing that had been fun when it wasn’t a party for Owen.

Though few would notice, what really brought the whole outfit together, in Julianna’s opinion, was the expensive and familiar blue tie that was wrapped around her hips and fashioned as a sort of belt.

Julianna had planned to avoid Owen for most of the night, but it seemed she didn’t even have to try. Surrounded by guests that all wanted his attention, he’d never even had to come to the bar for his own drink. As far as she knew, he’d not even looked at her. Good. She didn’t really want to see him let alone talk to him. She remained pleasant to her customers and vehemently wished for the night to just be over.

RE: Whisky Sour [Closed] - saronym - 06-22-2017

She was so wrong.

He had been looking at her, surreptitiously, all night. Glances when he could be sure that she wasn’t looking at him while he made small talk with his friends and accepted drinks from them. Owen wasn’t necessarily unpleased to be celebrating his birthday at Hopscotch.

What he wasn’t pleased about was celebrating another birthday. Not that the alternative sounded good to him. He was just anxious about getting older and feeling as if his life was still a mess. He had sorted of expected to feel settled and have so much more figured out.

But he had nothing figured out.

Which is exactly why he pushed through the crowd to find Julianna at the bar. Over the course of the evening, he had lost his jacket and was once again down to his usual vest and slacks. This look had almost become his patron of Hopscotch uniform. The button up shirt was rolled up to his forearms which showed off an extravagant watch on his wrist. He leaned into the bar on his forearms and watched her move about silently.

Owen had drank quite a bit by this point but his high tolerance sort of balanced out to place him solidly in an intoxicated but not at all sloppy state. His favorite place to be. When he wanted to be, he was an artist at maintaining that place without going too far over the edge or meandering back towards sobriety. It was probably his blood alcohol content that melted away his inhibitions in confronting her.

His mind kept flashing back to that night. He had already imagined a hundred more compromising ways he wanted to have her. Those little suspenders she was wearing were not helping. The image of her topless with suspenders and those tight jeans - hair swept back, collar bones on display, tie around her throat like she was packaged up just for him - flickered in his mind like a reproach to his decision to ghost and dump her. What had he been thinking then? How could he be so stupid? He distractedly wondered how she would react if he pulled and snapped those suspenders on her bare nipples.

He was in hell.

And that tie she brazenly wore around her hips wasn’t helping keep him away either. Once he noticed it, he couldn’t let it go. It was, to him, an obvious jab, a taunt, an invitation all rolled into one. No, it was that tie, his tie, that made him approach her. How dare she.

“Julianna.” Her name to get her attention. It felt good to have her name in his mouth again. “Highball for the birthday boy?” He asked without mentioning any specific ingredient. A throwback to their ‘surprise me’ relationship in which he unquestioningly accepted whatever she chose to serve him. It was his first step towards asking forgiveness.

RE: Whisky Sour [Closed] - megs - 06-22-2017

Julianna’s luck had run out.

Her avoidance of Owen had been going pretty smoothly most of the night, because she (wrongfully) thought he had been content to ignore her, but eventually she noticed him cutting through the crowd and sauntering up to her. She was mostly trapped behind the bar, already tending to another patron, she couldn’t leave without blatant rudeness.

He looked good. Too good. He always did. She watched him approach as she loaded bourbon and other components into a shaker. She didn’t need to look at what she was doing, so she was free to focus on the intricately patterned tie knotted at his throat. She wanted to add it to her collection. Her gaze flickered to his face, and there was something in his expression that made her entire body feel warm.

Julianna turned away from him as he leaned on the counter, and served the expertly poured Old Fashioned to one of his friends and/or colleagues sitting at the bar. He said her name and she wanted to melt. All at once she wanted to let go of her cold indignation and anger and forgive him. To fall into their easy rapport. She was in her own special hell and that was without knowing what he was thinking.

“Happy birthday, Mr. Hart,” she greeted with faux pleasantry and a forced smile. Keeping her hostessing appearances for the people milling around them. She turned to select a whisky from the shelves she could reach, her hips shifted as if in thought, but it was really to draw continued attention to that fucking tie. Julianna chose something dark in an expensive looking bottle. She retrieved a highball glass and filled it with ice before adding the whisky. “Enjoying your party?” She rarely used measurements, able to make almost anything by eye. She disappeared beneath the bar to retrieve the fancy craft ginger ale that they used for such beverages, but found the mini fridge empty of them. She popped back up with a huff. “Sorry, I have to grab more ginger ale.” She smiled that tight fucking smile at him again, before signaling to Sairus that she had to run to the back and pushed her way out from behind the bar.

RE: Whisky Sour [Closed] - saronym - 06-22-2017

“Why thank you, darling.” He had no right to call her that but he did it anyway. The iciness beneath her words and demeanor were more than obvious to him but it was met with whatever presumed intimacy was implied by ‘darling.’

When she turned around his eyes were right where she wanted them to be, on the tie she continued to goad him with. They flicked cooly back to her face and he blinked slowly. “I am.” He responded to her question that he knew she didn’t really care to receive the answer for.

He waved his hand as if it were no problem that she needed to retrieve another ingredient. He had always been a lenient customer, easily forgiving any shortcomings though there rarely ever were. But he wasn’t feeling as forgiving about the tie, so he shoved away from the bar and followed right after her into the back. Though a large man, he moved intentionally quietly. Stalking behind her while she located the product.

“What are you doing next Friday?” He asked finally from where he loomed behind her, though he really had no right to know.

RE: Whisky Sour [Closed] - megs - 06-22-2017

She was very aware of Owen following her, but she chose to ignore him. She could have at any point turned and informed him that he couldn’t be there. She could snap about the backroom being for employees only, but she didn’t, because she kind of wanted him to be following her. He hadn’t been discouraged by the angry flickering of her gaze when he’d graced her with an affectionate pet name. She was supposed to have the upper hand, but she was quickly losing it wanting him more than she was willing to admit out loud.

Locating what she needed, she pulled a case down from the shelf. They were alone in a secluded stock room, surrounded by various bottles and ingredients. When she turned he was standing almost directly behind her, if she hadn’t known she was there she would have bumped into his chest.

She sighed sharply through her nose, and stared at his tie, instead of looking up at him. A case of Ginger Ale held between them. “Why should I tell you,” she complained, still focused hard on his perfect Windsor knot. “Why would you even want to know?”

RE: Whisky Sour [Closed] - saronym - 06-23-2017

“Because.” His voice took on that smoky coy quality as he looked down at her so determined to not meet his gaze. That was fine. Stubbornness looked cute on her anyways. His finger looped underneath her suspender strap at her shoulder. He pulled it out testing the elasticity and drew his finger down underneath the strap. He let the strap go when his finger was around the peak of her breast. It made a gentle snap against the side of her bra. His eyebrow arched pleased with the sound it made.

Owen stuck both index fingers inside the suspender straps just under the line of her bra and gave a strong tug pulling her forward until the case of ginger beer rested against his navel. “I want to take you out on a date.”

He cocked his head bending somewhat down towards her to try and catch that stubborn gaze. If she didn’t look at him he could always make her. So one hand went to her neck closing around it so that his thumb rested on her throat. The thumb pressed up beneath her chin forcing it in an upward tilt until green and grey eyes met. “Unless you have something else better to do.” His thumb dropped down to stroke in a vertical motion along her throat. "But we both know you don't."

RE: Whisky Sour [Closed] - megs - 06-23-2017

How dare he take that tone with her. That deep, sexy tone that resonated in his chest and immediately reminded her of their night together. Bend over he’d said in that tone. Good girl he’d said in that tone. Her brow furrowed, but still, she refused to look at him because she knew he was doing it on purpose. Julianna’s chin dropped towards her chest to watch his fingers toy with her suspenders. She behaved as if that little snap had no effect on her, but she knew they were both thinking the same thing.

She didn’t resist that tug that pulled her towards him, she took the necessary step and was grateful for the case of soda that kept her from crashing into him, because if she was being honest that’s all she really wanted to do. Give up, give in and let him have his way with her. Instead, she rolled her eyes and scoffed at his admittance to a date.

The hard line of her eyes that zeroed in on the floor, made her look almost petulant as he towered over her. An involuntary shiver coursed down her spine as he hand closed around her neck. Another touch that was bold and too familiar. Finally, she looked up at him. There was more desire in her eyes than anger. Finally, he was touching her the way she had wanted him too when she’d gone to his office. “You only like me when you’re drunk,” she accused, but she didn’t pull away. “Sober you is going to change his mind in the morning.”

RE: Whisky Sour [Closed] - saronym - 06-28-2017

His hand fell away from her neck and released the suspender all at once denying her continued contact while she confronted him. There was almost enough truth in her claim to bite at him beneath the surface of his drunken cool.

“I like you all the time, Julianna.” He admitted in that same bedroom voice and it was true. “I just don’t know what to do about the way I feel when I’m sober sometimes.” More truth.

Owen took the case of ginger beer from her and set it down on the floor next to him. He could think of a better use for her hands. Even in this little argument, he still acutely felt the heat of attraction for her. It was almost exacerbated by her resistance. Owen’s hands moved to loosen his tie and pushed up his sleeves further as if he were about to engage in something physical.

“I made a mistake. Are you going to hold that against me when I’m coming to you for forgiveness?” His hands returned to her now that she was free of the case that would separate them when he tugged at her belt loops to pull her body against him. “That’s your perogative of course. Far be it from me...” He trailed off with making oral arguments instead made his points with his hands as they moved behind her to cup her ass and force her harder against him. What better argument could he make?

“Why don’t you let me make it up to you? Go on a date with me.”

RE: Whisky Sour [Closed] - megs - 07-11-2017

Owen’s hands left her person, and Julianna sort of felt like he’d taken the air from her lungs with him. She inhaled slowly, willing her senses to return, even as he claimed to like her all the time. Doing her best to continue frowning at him, she adjusted the case she still held in arms that were growing sore. The low timbre of his voice continued to draw goosebumps across her skin as if he hadn’t actually stopped touching her.

Though she was almost content to hold the heavy soda between their bodies like some sort of petulant barrier, she relinquished it easily when he took it from her. With nothing in them her hands dropped loosely back to her sides. She was more interested than she cared to show in the rearranging of his clothing.

“You were unnecessarily cruel,” she complained, even as she gave into that tug that pulled her closer to him again. Pulling her close, and then pulling away from her, and pulling her back again. What fitting imagery for the current nature of their interactions. He was touching more than he was talking and she was left believing that most of his apology was in the contact. She sucked air through her teeth as a handful of of flesh clad in black denim was the purchase he used to eliminate any figment of space between their bodies. Her hands went to his chest, smoothing over the soft material of his shirt. She didn’t know what else to do with them, but that was only the excuse she would use to touch him.

“A date,” she repeated in a monotone, gazing up at him. A brow was cocked upwards in disbelief. “You do not have the time or energy to engage in prolonged entanglements. Romantic or otherwise,” she quoted, spitefully. A rude reminder of the last time they had spoken. “You said you weren’t interested.”

RE: Whisky Sour [Closed] - saronym - 07-18-2017

Owen frowned disapprovingly down at her for that recitation of his words. Why she decided to throw them back at her when his hands were on her was beyond comprehension. He brought one hand from behind her and cupped her neck. His thumb rested against the the bow tie at middle of her throat.

“Forgive me.”

He made more a command than a request as his thumb skirted down until it was just below her bow tie and resting over where he estimated to be the hollow between her collar bones.

He pursed his lips and frowned again. “Why are you still wearing this?” He issued a complaint as his finger slid between the top two buttons of her shirt. He popped the button out. “And where is my drink?”

He arched his eyebrow and left it up to her as to how she would interpret his instructions posed as questions and whether she cared to obey or not.

RE: Whisky Sour [Closed] - megs - 07-20-2017

The more he touched her, the more her ironclad resolve faded into something soft. Soft like the silk of the tie she wore like a trophy around her waist. He placed his hand against her neck again. There was something about it. Something about the way that hold on her was always followed by a command. A command she usually had a hard time saying no to when he spoke to her like that.

Her chin dropped towards her chest and she watched the way he toyed with the topmost button on her shirt. “You’re making a lot of demands, Mr. Hart,” she replied, lifting her chin again to look up at him. “You don’t even know if I’ve forgiven you, yet.”

She had. They both knew it. Just because she hadn’t said the words didn’t mean anything. He was touching her the way he was which was sign enough that’d he’d been mostly absolved of enough wrong doing to handle her the way he was.

“Well, I can’t do both, right now,” she mused, sighing as if she was somehow put out by his string of demands. “You can have a drink. Or you can have me.”

RE: Whisky Sour [Closed] - saronym - 08-07-2017

Owen’s face remained stern but neutral towards her resistance. He was in less of a position to make demands than he would have liked. She was putting limits on him. Making ultimatums. A drink or her.

“Fine.” He said gruffly before his hands gripped her shirt and pulled down the middle as if tearing. It was rough enough to free each button in succession but not harsh enough to actually tear buttons from the shirt. See how forgiving he could be? He pushed the suspenders from her shoulders and shoved the shirt off of her arms. Hardly paying any mind to her bra, with an expert's touch the clasps were freed and he pulled the bra from the front of her and let it fall at their feet.

“I’ll have you then.” He said as if it wasn’t plainly obvious what his choice of options were. Not that he was pleased to have been limited by her in terms of such a simple request. No. Not at all.

Owen cocked his head as he looked at her. Bare on top, suspenders hanging down by her thighs, and that damn tie. Not only did it look outrageous as a belt. For godsake didn’t she have a proper belt? It went without saying that his expensive accessory didn’t belong around her hips that way.

His disapproving stare was pointed at that belt while he lifted the suspender straps back onto her shoulders. He liked the way the straps framed her breasts. He fiddled with them a little bit, drawing the breasts closer together with the elastic and cocking his head to appreciate the elegant line of cleavage it created.

Owen moved close to her, resting his hand at her waist and dragging it across her below her breasts as he moved behind her. With a firm grip that cupped her breast, Owen pulled Julianna back against him. Her bare back against his clothed chest. He pressed the his hard length against her ass just so she'd know what she'd bargained for. The vantage his height gave him offered a nice view of the cleavage he’d arranged, the hollows of her collar bones, and the outward flaring curve of her hips where her pants clung. What he liked best about this was the potential for discovery. How compromising that would be for her. He didn't even need a discovery, just the possibility was enough.

“What is that in your belt loops, Julianna?” He asked while his fingers curled underneath the suspender strap on one side. He held it out - a guaranteed threat - waiting for her answer. He had been curious how she would react and now determined to know. His fingers released the strap. The first time he did it was experimental. Not too much of a sting and the sound of it was just a little slapping against the skin. Just enough to gauge her reaction.

“Is that my tie?” He asked drawing the same strap farther this time before releasing it again on her. He liked the sound it made and he certainly enjoyed the view but he could think of something he might have liked better.

RE: Whisky Sour [Closed] - megs - 08-08-2017

Julianna’s only reaction to his clipped response was a lift of her eyebrows. The arched towards her hairline, before he gaze dropped to the hands that reached for her shirt. Her mouth formed a silent ‘oh’ of surprise as the buttons came undone in quick succession. She stood, resolute and passive as Owen continued to undress her to his preference. There was something almost obedient in the way she stood before him, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t over the moon at the choice he’d made.

It appeared on her mouth in a small, but sassy smirk that curled one corner of her mouth.

She had no shame in her revealed torso, allowing him to look her over. She watched as his gaze settled on the tie around her hips, and it took too much of her willpower to keep that smirk from growing.

The bartender remained silent as he toyed with her suspenders and her breasts. She made no show of appreciating what he was doing until he placed a hand on her waist and dragged fingers across her skin. The gentle touch coursed a shiver down her spine, chasing the electric tingles that started at his fingers and ended in her toes. All at once he was rougher, not too much, but a reminder of their night together and a promise of things to come. She sucked a breath through her teeth, body curving against him. She pushed her breast into his hand and her ass against his lap. So quickly she had gone from passive, to needy.

Julianna didn’t immediately answer his question. She settled her body against his, eyes tracking the suspender he held taught. When no response came from her, he released it. It snapped against her skin and she flinched involuntarily, but didn’t protest.
“It could be, Mr. Hart,” she replied vaguely. This time she didn’t watch the elastic as he pulled and released it once more. A small gasp escaped her at the contact.

RE: Whisky Sour [Closed] - saronym - 08-30-2017

Could be.

He was not pleased with this way of sassing him, either.

“It better be.” A vague threat as he snapped the elastic one more time. All of a sudden the contact she seemed to want from him so badly was gone. He moved away from her body which she had pressed firmly against his to signal her desire for more.

He walked slowly down the line of shelves with his hands crossed behind his back. His eyes scanned the labels of bottles stored there until he found something quite expensive and rare. Owen gazed back at her while he snatched it from the shelf. He opened it for himself and discarded the signature wax seal on the floor of her storeroom before he tilted his head back and drank straight from the bottle to show her he could have whatever he wanted whenever he wanted.

He returned to standing in front of her. He kicked aside the shirt and bra he had discarded on the floor as if they were no more than debris. Owen stuck his index finger down into the opening of the bottle as if to plug it up and then turned it upside down to wet the finger inside. He righted the bottle and pulled his finger out dripping with liquor. Owen traced the shape of Julianna’s lips with the liquor anointed digit before pushing it between her lips.

“Is that my tie Julianna?” He asked again. His voice was more pleasant as if this was the first time he was asking her. He seemed to expect her to answer despite the finger he had pushed into her mouth.

“Did you steal it from me?"