Ivy

Empty

"Hey, would you mind staying till closing? I need to check on my son to make sure he hasn't done something stupid," Tanya sighed as she sorted out the tips.

"That bad?" I glanced over my left shoulder as I pushed a beer toward the man in front of me.

"He's at that stage where he doesn't care to listen," she exhaled with frustration, "I can't be there to make sure he handles his school, let alone even stay in school once I drop him off in the morning."

"You remember being fourteen. It's not going to be easy," I responded before turning my attention back to the man in front of me, "That'll be $5." He fumbled in his wallet before placing seven dollars on the bar top and walking away. Tanya snagged it while blowing me a kiss.

"If his father would help and show him how to be a man instead of an angry teenage boy, then maybe I could understand-" she hesitated and shook her head, "You know what, no. I can't understand even if I tried."

I looked into her eyes. The dark brown, almost black iris nearly blended in with her pupil, and the dark circles beneath showed their presence. Her curly blonde hair fell to her shoulders, accentuating her big breasts crammed into a tight-fitted brown vest. You wouldn't guess she was a mother, let alone old enough to have a teenage son. Her flat stomach showed no signs of tiger stripes from pregnancy.

Glancing down, unable to find an excuse, I exaggerated a groan, "Fine; I'll do it."

Her eyes darted over towards me as they narrowed before she let out a smile, "Thanks, girl," she pecked me on the cheek, and we gave a brief hug before she departed from the bar.

Two hours passed in a breeze, and the last few remaining customers started to leave. Gathering up the remaining dirty glasses and throwing away the empty bottles meant only a few more minutes, and I was free. Even though I work because I want to not because I need to, there are some nights when customers can rub every last nerve within me.

"Is there enough time for another?" a deep voice rumbled behind me.

I looked over at him while tossing the bottles into the garbage. Let's hope this one doesn't push me to the breaking point. I'd feel bad for the next man that hits on me. With a sigh I glanced over at him once more, taking in his appearance. He was handsome; his thunder-grey eyes were deep and sharp. His dark brown tousled hair fell around his well-chiseled face. He knew he was attractive. The tight-fitted black shirt accompanied by a black leather jacket was so predictable. Not bad.

I walked over to him while glancing at the imaginary watch on my wrist, "Sorry, last call was 28 minutes ago. Plus, we close in two minutes."

He smirked, giving a slight nod before downing the last of the beer. I could hear his swallow before he looked at me with heavy-lidded eyes, "How about you then?"

I gave him one more look and contemplated. His voice was rough like sandpaper oozing with charisma. He was a tall man, I could tell from how he leaned over the bar while still sitting, but I felt nothing. Any woman would gladly take him up on his offer. I know Tanya would receive this proposition, but how come I didn't feel anything? Not even an urge to see if it would be a good kiss to me? Let him touch me? Let him have me? My head tilted to the side as he began rising to his feet gaining in height. His eyes are beaming down onto mine, hungry with desire, and still, I feel nothing. As he leaned down over the bar towards me, I couldn't help but wonder if I would like it and feel something. Every time I've tried to do anything remotely physical with anyone I never feel anything. What was the reason? The thought of having s*x with someone doesn't excite me, it almost bores me.

Closer and closer, he leaned down to me, shortening the gap between us at an even pace. His mouth was inches from mine and then centimeters before pausing as if waiting for me to respond. He pressed his lips onto mine as I felt a large hand slide around my neck, pulling me towards him. His warm lips grazed me as he slid his tongue into my mouth. Nothing. No rush of heat, no intensity, no weakness in my knees, just nothing. I leaned into the kiss as his grasp around my neck slid to my back. Did I lock my door when I left tonight? Wait- my train of thought broke as my eyes flew open. My body reacted where my words fell short.

Backing away from his embrace, his hand released me, "Sorry," that's all I could say before shaking my head from side to side. He threw up his hands and took a few steps back in defeat.

He turned away from me and made his way to the front door. Before exiting he turned back towards me, "Was it the kiss?"

"No, it's me," I responded.

A slight tilt at the corner of his mouth was his final reply. He left the bar, and I was utterly alone. My hand seized the rag upon the bartop and continued to wipe down the surface of sticky circles left behind from glasses. Why didn't I want to take him home? Why did I not care for the kiss? Did I not find him attractive enough? How come when he kissed me I felt nothing at all? Thinking about my loft and if I locked the door?

"Maybe I'm wired wrong," I chuckled to myself raising my head, "Now I'm talking to myself like a crazy person."