Anton could not control his gaze in the moments she un-crossed and re-crossed her legs. He was bewitched watching her legs move in that like-a-second-skin-tight skirt. Once she was settled again, the spell released him and he was able to return her gaze. When she complimented his looks he merely gave her appreciative smile. "I think I'll wait to hear your judgment on my personality when your blood alcohol level is higher."
He let the conversation hang in a lull for a few moments. He observed her quietly to a sound track of the other patrons' voices and a Sublime song. Over the low din the lyrics could be made out: "But life is one big question when you're staring at the clock/ And the answer always waiting at the liquor store, 40 oz to Freedom/ So I'll take that walk." When she offered her nickname he didn't respond. He wondered whether it was a nickname she always used in favor of her legal name. Or whether it was reserved for special people.
He prepared the drink in silence, mentally noting how her flat, borderline rude, request for the first drink had transformed into a pleasant trill with a 'please' by the second. Anton couldn't say he was used to beautiful, executive women in tight skirts from downtown requesting his service with pleases, but he certainly liked it. He wondered what else he could get her to say 'please' for. Although truthfully, Anton was more likely of the two to say please. After garnishing the drink in the same manner as the first, he set it in front of Isabella.
Being in the service industry, Anton had trained himself to notice and preemptively respond to subtle indications of others' needs. Particularly on slow nights. On busy nights, his patrons were expected to advocate for their own needs. "It seems I've been giving you all of my attention, Bella," he said at last, testing the name. He liked it but preferred Isabella, somehow the full name felt more intimate. Without feeling he needed further explanation he turned from her to attend to a man with a near empty beer. He asked the man how he liked the beer and whether he would have the same or to try another. They brainstormed on the man's tastes and preferences, and a few samples later, Anton placed a glass brimming with a viscous dark beer like motor oil in front of him. He closed out another's tab. All of Anton's behavior with the clients could be described as genial, familiar, easy.
And then there was Hank, who ordered some sort of liquor to nurse. He was apologizing to Anton and blubbering about feeling emasculated after his wife left him. Although Anton's posture and nodding appeared empathetic, he was clearly bored and had heard the whole story before. He took the opportunity to reply to a couple emails from his extra-curricular female correspondences. When Hank was thoroughly comforted, Anton returned to Isabella. He was mumbling under his breath something like, 'I swear to fucking God that drunk fuck needs to get his shit together.'
He set his glowing iPhone down on the bar in front of her and leaned down on his forearms, closer to her face this time. "So basically, one drink deep and I already know your profession, your lifestyle, your romantic availability, and I've earned nickname privileges." He observed, "Tell me, what will drink number two bring me?"
He let the conversation hang in a lull for a few moments. He observed her quietly to a sound track of the other patrons' voices and a Sublime song. Over the low din the lyrics could be made out: "But life is one big question when you're staring at the clock/ And the answer always waiting at the liquor store, 40 oz to Freedom/ So I'll take that walk." When she offered her nickname he didn't respond. He wondered whether it was a nickname she always used in favor of her legal name. Or whether it was reserved for special people.
He prepared the drink in silence, mentally noting how her flat, borderline rude, request for the first drink had transformed into a pleasant trill with a 'please' by the second. Anton couldn't say he was used to beautiful, executive women in tight skirts from downtown requesting his service with pleases, but he certainly liked it. He wondered what else he could get her to say 'please' for. Although truthfully, Anton was more likely of the two to say please. After garnishing the drink in the same manner as the first, he set it in front of Isabella.
Being in the service industry, Anton had trained himself to notice and preemptively respond to subtle indications of others' needs. Particularly on slow nights. On busy nights, his patrons were expected to advocate for their own needs. "It seems I've been giving you all of my attention, Bella," he said at last, testing the name. He liked it but preferred Isabella, somehow the full name felt more intimate. Without feeling he needed further explanation he turned from her to attend to a man with a near empty beer. He asked the man how he liked the beer and whether he would have the same or to try another. They brainstormed on the man's tastes and preferences, and a few samples later, Anton placed a glass brimming with a viscous dark beer like motor oil in front of him. He closed out another's tab. All of Anton's behavior with the clients could be described as genial, familiar, easy.
And then there was Hank, who ordered some sort of liquor to nurse. He was apologizing to Anton and blubbering about feeling emasculated after his wife left him. Although Anton's posture and nodding appeared empathetic, he was clearly bored and had heard the whole story before. He took the opportunity to reply to a couple emails from his extra-curricular female correspondences. When Hank was thoroughly comforted, Anton returned to Isabella. He was mumbling under his breath something like, 'I swear to fucking God that drunk fuck needs to get his shit together.'
He set his glowing iPhone down on the bar in front of her and leaned down on his forearms, closer to her face this time. "So basically, one drink deep and I already know your profession, your lifestyle, your romantic availability, and I've earned nickname privileges." He observed, "Tell me, what will drink number two bring me?"
Bitch, I'm limited edition.
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