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[Digger_Bones]

The atmosphere was pungent and smoky and the softly turned jazz from the jukebox mingled like an aural incense.

 

[Maid of Marvels]

The woman perched on the barstool, an antiquated goddess on a red Naugahyde and chrome pedestal, and crossed her legs.

 

[AmbrosiaCaress]

She asked for a drink, one would think perhaps a glass of wine, or an exotic mixed beverage, but that was not the case... a shot of JD and a beer to chase it down. It had been one of those days.....

 

[Digger_Bones]

The room around her seemed a world in which she would live forever. She had no idea of the time and didn’t care. All around her were strangers, all those couples lounging and lying in the big room, hardly speaking, fondling a little, talking quietly.

 

[AmbrosiaCaress]

And there she sat... all alone... How had that happened? Why? The questions milled around in her head as the barkeep brought the drinks, leering at her with a gap toothed grin...

 

[wideeyedone]

She smiled a slow sultry smile, but it wasn't for him. It was for the heat of the Jack Daniels. She relished the thought of the drink before she picked up the glass.

 

[qerasija]

The man in the corner nursed his beer: it had been a hard day at work and the night at home was still to survive.

 

[Maid of Marvels]

She tipped the shot glass up and swallowed, her mouth a rictus as she reached for the icy bottle of beer to stanch the molten heat, like lava, flowing down her throat to her belly. "I'll have another," she said then, pushing the empty glass across the bar with one crimson-tipped finger.

 

[Digger_Bones]

She lit a cigarette as her eyes surveyed the room. The smoke passed in a dry relief down her throat; the sweet, exotic aroma floated to her nostrils and she breathed deeply, with concentration. Looking around the room, she noticed that most of the girls were young, about twenty and the men a few years older except for Sam, who looked thirty. His mistress was supposed to have a lot of money.

 

[Maid of Marvels]

How many would end up like her, she wondered; working from nine to five and drinking from six til the clock struck pumpkin. Later on weekends when she brought Jack Daniels home to warm her in that lonely double bed. It wasn't a bad life, she thought, taking another drag of her cigarette. At least it was something.

 

[chris2c4u]

He slipped onto the barstool and asked the tender for a Remy and to keep a tab. Looking around, leaning back on the bar, he forgot the gambling session with the boys. It was just 200; last week he'd walked away with 120 - and a kiss from Patrick's wife.

 

[Maid of Marvels]

She looked over the rim of her glass, and arched an eyebrow. Remy. Who was he trying to impress, she wondered. He looked more like a Wild Turkey kind of guy.

 

[chris2c4u]

He swung himself around and let his eyes adjust to the gloom away from the bar, his lungs to the smoke wrapped around the music in the air. He picked up the glass and let the heat from his hand warm the brandy. This was the place to be he thought as he looked down the line of the polished brass rail to where she sat. This theatre of dreams.