It was the blondes. It was always the goddamn blondes.
They always had that something when they walked in that made it clear that they were unique. It wasn't every blonde, but it was more than a few. First, and most prominently, it was that kid. She had nearly tore down his club and put most of his staff in the hospital. She came back once, still didn't get that drink he apparently owes her.
He made a lot of mistakes that day, he promised himself that he would never make those mistakes again. He would never let a pretty blonde lady charm him, no matter how innocent their intentions may seem, or how enthralling they appeared.
That promise went straight out the window about two and a half hours ago.
It was at that moment that one particular blonde entered the club.
It was apparent from the moment the doors opened that she wasn't the typical party-going young slut that was a common sight at clubs like his. Her hair was too well-done, her attire was too high-class, her posture was too practiced. A tit-window was present though, that was almost comforting. But perhaps the most foreign trait was how she handled the scumbags. While uncommon, there would be some women who held themselves higher than all other patrons, and they would deal with any approaching suitors with intelligent words and a superior expression. The difference between the normal ladies and this one was the method, or lack thereof. She didn't do anything; she didn't have to. As though they acknowledged their inferiority, the many patrons on the dancefloor, both respectable and deplorable alike, simply removed themselves from her path. Those who did gave her a glance, either in fear or awe of her.
Junior, despite being behind the bar, which was decidedly not on the dancefloor, had been put under the same spell. His feet had not budged since the doors first opened to reveal this force of nature in woman form. He managed to close his mouth before this woman reached the bar and took the seat directly in front of him.
"Aromatized wine," were the first words out of her mouth. It was not so much a request as it was an order. "Keep the bottle open," she added, her brow furrowed with misplaced anger.
"Yes ma'am." Was his curt reply.
Hei "Junior" Xiong was a large man with a deep voice, and he found some pride in his masculine form and intimidating tone. On any other occasion, he would be internally berating himself for making such a spineless affirmation of a customer's order. However, this instance made such a weak response fitting. Similarly fitting was the sweat forming beneath his gloves as he reached for the glass and wine.
He could feel a pair of moss-colored eyes drilling into his back, almost commanding him to move faster. As he turned back around to begin pouring the wine, his eyes became burnt coals beneath the stare of emerald fire he had met.
Who the hell is this woman? Junior thought to himself as he poured the wine. He stopped when the glass had been filled halfway, as was normal for him after years at this job.
"Oh for fuck's sake," spat the woman under her breath ",Fill it up!"
Junior nearly fumbled with the bottle as he hastily filled the rest of the glass with wine. The instant he finished pouring, the woman had begun chugging down the glass with the single-minded ambition that could only come from experience. She continued chugging, never allowing her lips to part from the glass. She finished the wine with a frustrated exhale.
"Fill it up again." She said in no uncertain terms. The fear was becoming legitimate in Junior as he refilled the glass.
Thus began a vicious fifteen minute cycle. The refill of the glass with strong wine, immediately followed by the woman chugging it as though she were knocking back shots of water chilled Junior to the spine for various reasons. An elegant businesswoman coming in and getting blasted was not uncommon, but this was different. She was different.
He was about to fill the glass for the… sixth time? Even counting had become difficult. Whatever number time he was refilling the glass, he didn't get the chance. Suddenly, the bottle of wine had found itself in the woman's hand. She hadn't taken it, she hadn't moved a damn muscle, the bottle had simply removed itself from his grasp and found its way to her hand. A huntress, he thought. It was the most logical explanation. More than a few of her type had come in looking for some good times, through alcohol or other means.
Though she had taken the bottle from him and was pouring the wine herself, her gaze had locked itself onto Junior. With the unreasonable voracity that she was consuming the wine, he assumed that she wanted him to get more bottles ready. He quickly retrieved two more bottles, uncorked them, and set them next to the woman. Her gaze continued to drill into him through her cycle of pouring and chugging, though if she was demanding more bottles, this was a point where Junior would hold his ground. She was confident that she could hold her liquor, that much was obvious to him, but he knew from years of experience that every body has its limits, and he estimated that three bottles of strong wine was where her upper limit resided. The woman's eyes did not leave Junior's form. Whether she was displeased with his judgement, or was simply keep her eyes away from the alcohol she was consuming, the amount of which was approaching the moniker of "ungodly," was unclear.
The next two hours were ones of intrigue. Junior, while willingly holding his ground on the amount of alcohol to serve this woman, was rather unwilling, or unable to do anything but physically stand his ground. The woman's green gaze was powerful, and Junior had not yet worked up the courage to move himself while he was within it. Over the first forty-five minutes, a sort of unruly staring contest took place. Junior was rooted in place, somewhat awkwardly staring at the woman's eyes as she stared right back into his. Her gaze did not remain on his eyes for too long however, as he could see her eyes shift around his eyes and perhaps slightly further down his form. What the hell is she looking at? He asked himself. He could not formulate an answer, as every time he believed he was approaching one, he found himself lost in the color of her eyes. His thoughts were stuck in a looping stupor, constantly shifting between the consideration of why her gaze was shifting and being astonished by the glittering green hues of her eyes.
Two hours had passed and the intensity of their gazes had died down, though the woman was still drinking and Junior was still unable to move his legs. Finally, Junior managed to speak, though with much less confidence than he would've liked.
"Uh, ma'am?" Junior inquired while rubbing the back of his neck ", Don't you think you've had enough?"
The woman paused and tilted her head down to peer over the rim of her glasses to gaze at him with slightly lowered eyelids. She let out a prolonged hum before replying "Do you think I've had enough, kind sir?"
Kind sir?
"Uh, well," he sputtered out "I mean, you've been very slowly pouring your own drink for about fifteen minutes now."
Her expression perked up slightly in surprise. "Fifteen minutes only?" she gazed down at her mostly empty glass "I was sure I'd been here for so much longer."
He was surprised, she was a good way through the third bottle, and though her expression had softened, her words were still coherent. She was no munchkin, but he had seen countless people her size out cold after the amount of alcohol she'd consumed.
He scratched the back of his neck before replying "Oh, you have. You took the bottle from me about an hour ago."
"Mhmmmmm….." she dragged out the sound "That sounds about right." Her gaze began to slowly move across Junior's musculature, much less subtly than it had before. "Hey," she said, suddenly "ever played a drinking game with a customer?"
Holy Shit.
His eyes widened. How had he missed it? Those damn eyes. Why else would she…
He knew his chances were slim, he was classy, but she was on a whole 'nother level. He knew he shouldn't, he was on the clock after all. He knew that he should heed his own advice and avoid the blonde like the plague. But for fuck's sake, an angel doesn't just appear in front of you every day.
Junior looked to his left "Hey Rich!" he said to one of the other bartenders "Take over for me, will you?" He then leaned forward onto the counter, confidence suddenly surging back to him with the acknowledgement of this mutual attraction, and asked with a coy, hushed tone "Are you suggesting something, ma'am?"
She raised an eyebrow as a magical smirk graced her lips.
Noon, the next day
*click*
Junior's eyes opened slowly as he heard the telltale click of his bedroom door closing. He saw the edge of his mattress and his arm hanging over its side. He turned his head and recognized the wall with the dresser just off to the right. He brought his arm up to push himself up just enough to turn to see the door to his bedroom. That's when he saw her. He turned himself onto his back to get a better look at her.
She had her back to him, and was frozen in the process of dressing herself. Her knee-high boots and leggings had already been replaced, but her pencil skirt was only lightly hugging her abdomen as she was frozen with her arms wore her pleated top above her head, waiting to go over her head and bra. His view of her brastrap was slightly blocked by her hair that had yet to be done up. He nearly forgot about how her hair shined nearly platinum-gold. Somehow able to pry his eyes away from her, he looked over to the nightstand on her side of the bed where her glasses rested, as well as her cape, which was draped over the lamp.
He did it. No, that's not what happened. Normally, there were many different ways he could describe what happened to him the previous night; scored, smashed, got laid, got lucky, as well as a few others from days gone by. But none of them did this instance justice. Last night, he was honored. This woman saw fit to give him her, albeit drunken, affection that he was not worthy of. Yet he got it. She gave it to him. WOW had she given it to him! He was never one to brag, but he had… manhood that was… impressive, and he had, more often than not, been the one doing more of the pleasing in his previous sexual escapades. But last night, he was just along for the ride.
She had just awoken from her stupor and put her top back over her head when Junior decided to speak.
"Glynda?" That was her name. Before they went to his bedroom, they had quite the drinking game where they talked for… who knows how long? And in that time, he learned who she was. Glynda Goodwitch, an administrator at the nearby Beacon Academy. She had told him about the stress she was under and how she decided to go somewhere new to blow off steam. That "somewhere new" was his nightclub, and he was the one lucky enough to catch her eye.
But that was when they were both wasted. They were sober now, and she had been dressing herself before he had woken up. That fact sent dread reaching down his spine.
Glynda frozen again at the sound of her name. She buttoned up her skirt and cleared her throat before turning to meet Junior's gaze with a professional expression. "Mr. Xiong?"
"Legit?" Junior sighed "You're being all formal right now? Right now? You know what happened, right?"
"Indeed I do," she said as she turned away to look into the mirror on the nearby dresser to fix her hair "and it happened last night. Emphasis on 'last night.' That was then, this is now."
"So," Junior tried to sound firm with questionable success "what we talked about last night? The laughs that we had? The way you…" Junior rubbed his neck as a memory returned to him "pulled me by my tie before we came here?" Junior lifted his right hand to reveal Glynda's riding crop. "What we did when we got here? We're just forgetting about that, are we?"
"Yes," she said, matter-of-factly "we are. We are professionals, and we have many responsibilities. I certainly don't have time to waste on such a distraction. I doubt you do either." Glynda's gaze briefly turned to Junior as she finished her statement. He managed to ignore the growing… protrusion forming under the bedsheet.
"Color me unimpressed." he impressed himself by saying.
"What?" Glynda turned in surprise.
"If you're so busy, how exactly did you find time to come to a nightclub and get wasted enough to sleep with someone you just met?"
"Hmph, last night was a rare occasion for me to do something on my own time," she began "I see now that it was a mistake to allow myself to become so intoxicated. I have no intention on making it a habit. Furthermo-" Glynda trailed off as her face reddened as she fixed her gaze on Junior's "protrusion."
Junior followed her gaze and looked back at her with a smirk. "You don't seem to be regretting your 'mistake.'"
Glynda turned even redder, but her expression showed anger. She reached to her hip, but couldn't find anything.
"Looking for this?" Junior teased as he lifted up her riding crop with a smirk and raised eyebrow.
Glynda began to reach for her crop before stopping, hardening her expression, and turning her back to Junior to put her cape on. "Childish man." she spat.
There was a pause before Glynda spoke again "I will admit that last night was… enjoyable." Junior's heart lept into his throat. "However," she proceeded "I doubt it will be beneficial for either of us if we make this… 'thing' a regular occurrence."
"Listen, Glynda," Junior began, staring into the back of Glynda's head "I don't know where all this reluctance is coming from, but I don't see how having a way to relieve stress and talk about your issues can't benefit the both of us, you especially!"
Glynda paused while reaching for her glasses.
"So, look, I enjoyed myself last night," Junior continued "I'm pretty sure you did too. Plus, you don't seem to be groggy in the least. So please, tell me how 'this' is a bad idea!"
The pause that followed his outburst was deafening. He was usually so composed, but there was something with this woman that tore through his usual patience. But now, he was scared. Was that too much? Did he just overstep his bounds? Did he just ruin this?
Suddenly, Glynda whipped around and stared through Junior with fury in her eyes. As she swiftly strided around the bed to Junior, he could sense impending wrath emanating from her form. As she stopped right next to him, she swiped her riding crop from his hand and whipped its end into Junior's chest, sending him crashing into the mattress with a small purple shockwave. Then, she placed her open palm on Junior's "protrusion" and quickly forced the covered form into the mattress between his legs, forcing him to raise his torso up.
His upper body shot up to try to ease the pain, and in doing so, forced Junior's lips to meet Glynda's. His eyes shot open, filled with all sorts of emotions, he couldn't quite believe what was happening. Glynda then pressed her head into the kiss, forcing Junior to lean back and maintain the pain on his crotch. Junior mashed his forearms onto the mattress to help support his weight. Glynda held the hard, simple kiss for what seemed like an eternity, suspending Junior in a limbo that separated pain and pleasure. It was not an unfamiliar situation, as he had felt the odd balance between her tender kiss and aggressive actions mere hours beforehand.
Satisfied with herself, Glynda broke the kiss and lifted her hand from the sheet, allowing Junior's back to fall into the mattress as he took in heavy breaths. Glynda stood straight up over him with an unimpressed expression. The two stayed there, staring into each other's eyes for what felt like days.
"We will talk more later." said Glynda, finally breaking the silence. She winked down at him before strutting out of the room and firmly shutting the door behind her.
Junior watched her as she left, letting his head fall back into his pillow as he huffed breaths in and out.
He closed his eyes and sighed "What a woman."
