Just Grease it Up Again
It's one of those nights when the bar's practically running on autopilot, everything smooth and under control. I'm keeping an eye on things but haven't had to step in. No one's in the weeds, not even Noreen, the new server. None of the regulars is fall-down drunk yet and the usual weeknight crowd of after-work white collars letting off steam are rowdy but not obnoxious. It's steady but reasonably slow enough that I don't even mind the scruffy uni students camping in the booths nursing their cheap shitty beers and surfing on the wi-fi signal from the coffee shop next door.
You can feel the energy in the place instantly spike and start humming at a more intense level when they walk in.
Cosima, I recognize right away. She's been in a few times with Felix and Sarah. She and Sarah look enough alike that I wasn't surprised to learn that they're sisters. And she's pretty distinctive in her own right. Gotta say I wasn't sure about the dreads at first. With most white girls it comes across as an affectation. Cultural appropriation ain't pretty, you know, and besides, the texture of the hair's usually wrong so most of them wind up looking pretty janky. But hers are nicely done, neat and tight and shiny, and I have to admit they suit the funky-eclectic vibe she's rocking. She's like catnip, that one. The smile, the laid-back California girl thing, the bod in those clingy little outfits... shit, I wouldn't be averse to a roll in the hay. Even when Dev isn't out of town with his band.
The blonde she's with is gorgeous. And it wouldn't take my degree in psychology to know that they're together together, not with the constant touching and kissing and eye-fucking. Not to mention the hickeys and what I'm pretty sure are teeth marks all over their necks. Even in just a plain black tanktop and faded jeans, she's almost painfully beautiful. And damn, that hair.
They're so obviously hot for each other, it's kind of hard to look away.
Finally they manage to shake off their hormonal haze and remember where they are and why they're here. Cosima gives me a wave, points toward a corner booth and makes a little writing gesture in the air. I nod and wave back, getting a huge smile and a thumbs-up in return. The blonde slings an arm around Cosima's shoulders, Cosima slips her arm around the blonde's waist; despite the difference in height, they fit together like puzzle pieces as they stroll over to the booth and scoot in. Sitting side by side, of course, holding hands under the table with their bodies in contact from the shoulder all the way down to where Cosima's ankle is hooked around the blonde's lower leg.
"Don't even think about it," I say to Noreen before she can slide out from behind the bar. Probably wants a better look, like everybody else in this place right now. She shoots me a disgruntled glare and then thinks better of it when I give her the eyebrow; she shrugs, going back to her sidework. Good girl. I try not to smirk at Eliot as I head over. "Perks of being the owner, kid," he stage-whispers to her, loud enough that I know he's making sure I can hear him. He's a smartass, but he's a damned good barback so he knows I won't rag him too hard.
Cosima's free hand is flying around, making shapes and drawing designs in the air as she talks. Like every time I've seen her before, I appreciate how well toned and defined her arms are. There's no way she doesn't know how good she looks in her sleeveless dress.
And then I get a real good load of the woman she's with. Jesus fuck. Seeing her across the room, I'd thought the blonde was beautiful, but that doesn't even begin to describe the stunning effect she has up close. Face nearly bare, with maybe a touch of eyeshadow and a slick of lipstick, skin flushed with that glow that says they've probably been fucking for hours. The way she's looking at Cosima makes me suddenly envious and massively turned on at the same time.
"Nice to see you again, Cosima. What can I get for you ladies tonight?"
Cosima smiles at the blonde, who smiles back at her and makes a "go ahead" gesture. "Do you still have that flowering herbal tea, the really pretty jasmine-y one?"
"Yep. And for you, miss...?"
"Delphine Cormier." She turns those huge eyes on me, giving me her full attention like I'm the most fascinating person she's ever met. The double-barreled impact of those eyes and that voice is something else and I have to stop myself from gawping like a landed fish. The accent doesn't hurt, either. Or that face. Or that body. Or holy shit that hair. Automatically I reach for the hand she's holding out and shake it, reminding myself just in time to let go before she thinks I'm some kind of a creepy, stalkery idiot. Long slender fingers, stronger grip than I would have guessed to look at her. Not as soft, either. "You're going to think I'm pretentious and annoying."
It's really fucking hard not to get lost in those eyes. "Try me."
"I'd like a Sazerac, please."
Okay, I wasn't expecting that. Not that I'd ever let on to a customer that she's surprised me. "You got it."
She tilts her head. "Real absinthe, I hope?"
For a second I'm distracted by the shift in the light playing over her hair. Cool your jets, Fontana. "Just cracked a new bottle of Duplais Verte last week. None of that crappy radioactive-green stuff that even the college kids will only drink on a dare."
"She orders the same thing every time we go to a new bar," Cosima explains. "So far she's been disappointed — either they have shitty ingredients or they don't know what the hell they're doing when they make it. I told her that you would be different."
"Damn straight." I know a challenge when I hear one. "Tell you what. If you don't think mine's as good or better than you can get in New Orleans, it's on the house. Your tea, too," I add, nodding at Cosima.
"Dude, deal."
Knowing that they're watching me, I don't mind putting on a bit of a show, adding a little extra english to my moves, a few unnecessary spins and bumps to my bottles and tools.
I heat some filtered water and pour it over the tea bud in a preheated glass pot. While it's steeping, I grab two chilled Old Fashioned glasses out of the reach-in. I roll a splash of absinthe all around the inside of one of them, then pour the remaining drops out into the other glass and muddle them with a sugar cube. A few chunks of ice, 3oz of Knob Creek, two dashes of Peychaud's and a dash of Angostura, stir it all together, then quickly strain it back into the first glass. By the time I've draped a twist of lemon zest over the edge, Cosima's tea has steeped for just about exactly the right time and the blossom is fully opened.
Taking their drinks over on a tray, I set them down on the table along with bowls of roasted nuts and rosemary popcorn. "There you go, ladies." I double check to make sure everything is perfect, then turn on my heel and head back toward the bar.
"Aren't you going to hang around to see if she likes it?" Cosima calls after me.
"Don't need to," I say over my shoulder with a wink.
It's getting busy now, so I've got my hands full showing Noreen a more efficient way to build some of the more complicated drinks she's been learning, helping Eliot with inventory and keeping an eye on the level of the bottles on the speed rail, schmoozing the big spenders, not so subtly urging the campers to move on. By the time I get another break and check back in with Cosima and Delphine, their bodies are interwoven into a symmetrical shape, like one of those knots where you can't tell where one thread ends and the other begins.
I clear my throat. They pull away from their kiss with identical, almost sleepy expressions and blink up at me. "Same again?"
"Yeah, that'd be cool."
"I take it you approve of my version?" I say to Delphine, who blushes. Which doesn't make her more appealing at all, oh, no.
"Very much. I do have to confess that I've never actually been to New Orleans," she says, giving it the French pronunciation. "There's a bar in Paris that specializes in artisanal absinthe. A man I was dating at the time introduced me to Sazeracs there and I've been hooked ever since."
"Love affair with the drink lasted longer than the dude, huh?"
She smiles again at Cosima. "I seem to have found someone else much more to my tastes."
Lucky, lucky Cosima. "Right back with your order. Or anything else you guys can think of," I say with as much innuendo as I can get away with this side of creepy-stalkery.
There's that really cute thing she does with her tongue. "We're not, like, unicorn hunting or anything, but if we ever get there you'll be the first one we'll call."
Delphine looks a little lost. Cosima smirks and whispers, "Tell you later, babe."
I won't lie, I'm a tiny bit bummed that she's only kidding.
Business is picking up, so after I take them another round I stay busy making sure everyone's happy and being taken care of. We're cranking out orders, getting into a good rhythm, and Noreen and Eliot are finally meshing together like a seasoned team.
And then they start dancing.
The bar's a little too small and narrow to have a proper dance floor, but that's never stopped Cosima before from getting her groove on if the mood strikes her when a song she likes is playing. I like watching her dance, the free-flowing expressiveness of her hands and arms, the way her body spins and sways and undulates to the music. But the only way to describe the way she's dancing with Delphine right now is "fucking with your clothes on."
Not that they're dry-humping or doing anything lewd. Every movement is just synced in that way that says they're in a really, really good place with each other physically.
I can feel the energy in the entire place ramping up as they dance. Cass the DJ catches on quickly. Though she'd have to be brain-dead not to, the way everyone is watching the two of them get lost in their own world. She keeps up the pace for a couple more songs, then drops the tempo way down. But not the temperature: I recognize the opening riff to "Drill Daddy Drill."
More people are dancing now and couples are necking all over the place, even some of the ones who just met. Whatever pheromones these two are putting out must be some kind of cosmic-level magnetic force. I can tell it's going to be a good night after all. Shit, maybe I should have them come in and make out whenever it's slow.
It gets busy enough that I almost don't notice for a while that they've slipped away from their booth. I've got Cosima's credit card on file so I'm not worried about her tab, but they've been gone long enough for me to finally realize where they are. And what they're probably up to.
Trying not to be too obvious about it, I drift over to hallway outside the restroom door and listen just long enough to hear "Oh, god, babe, yes, yes, right there! Fuuuuuck!" I grab the "Out of Order" standing sign and set it up, figuring I'll give them another ten minutes or so before I bust in on them. Hey, I'm all about going with the flow, giving in to the heat of the moment and all that, but I have a business to run and a bunch of thirsty customers who are going to be lining up to piss soon.
Thank goodness Cass is keeping the volume cranked. I can still hear the occasional hoarse scream or a random thump. Eliot and I deliberately avoid looking at each other because otherwise we're going to lose our shit laughing. La la la, nothing to see here, folks, move along.
Just then something crashes, a sound as loud and unexpected as a bomb and with about the same effect. Even the music hits a lull, like it's holding its breath. Conversations come to a sputtering halt. It's quiet enough that I can hear a muttered "Shit!" in the aftermath.
Eliot bows ironically and makes an exaggerated sweeping gesture with his hand. I roll my eyes at him, wipe my hands on a clean towel and head toward the restroom. Not bothering to knock, I pitch my voice loud enough for them to hear me but hopefully not carry across the bar. "You guys okay?"
"Yeah." I recognize Cosima's voice. "But, um... the stalls might have, um, kinda collapsed. Um. Sorry."
"Ainnhh, been meaning to replace those. Put the repair bill on your credit card?"
"Yes, please."
I start to go back to the bar, then think of something. "Hey, Cosima?"
Someone yips. I can hear panting. "Yeah?"
"That sink isn't fastened to the wall real securely. Don't knock it over, okay?"
"Oh. Uh. Thanks for the heads up."
"Yep. Another round?"
"Sure. Give us a minute?"
"You got it."
Just a little lighthearted and (I hope) fun update — honestly can't tell because I'm pretty damned loopy from jetlag right now. Actual smut will resume soon, rest assured.