Femolutionary ~ Closed for AntonTovaras

[PerpetualNotion]

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Twenty-five year old Caitlin Kelly sat perched on a barstool that she would never have been able to sit on at all were it not for her skyscraper leather-free wedges. At just five feet tall she looked really quite juvenile with her feet perched on a footrest two feet above the ground. What she also looked was completely out of place. In a bar full of drinking, dancing women all tarted up like cheap hookers, Caitlin resembled a vestal virgin ice queen who had wound up in Dante's Inferno due to some clerical error. She didn't wear much make-up and like everything else she bought, it had to be organic, vegan, fair trade, environmentally conscious and cruelty-free. Her best friend, Jenna, thought that was all very well for someone lucky enough to have Caitlin's elfin beauty and tiny figure. Most women needed a little more war-paint in their arsenal than mascara and lip gloss. No way would Caitlin waste hours of her life on straightening her Raven black hair or fake tan. She had Celtic Irish colouring and was proud of it.

Not that Caitlin's looks were doing her any favours at all tonight. The few guys who had been brave enough to try talking to her had swiftly given up. With each vodka tonic Caitlin's disdainful disinterest drifted further towards open hostility. Jenna and Megan had long since given up any hopes of meeting anybody. When you said 'girl's night' to Caitlin Kelly, she took you at your word. She looked incredible in anything at all but of course, Caitlin only dressed to please herself, not to gratify male onlookers. Where other girls would have become vivacious, Caitlin viewed her breathtaking beauty as little short of a curse. She was not the kind of girl who failed to attract male attention. Anywhere she went. Ever. It got old a long time ago. Naturally, anyone who admired her and only chose to strike up conversation because of her looks was shallow and lecherous.

An older guy who had been watching other suitors try and fail, turned away from the bartender and presented Caitlin with a vodka tonic and a self-deprecatory smile.

"Most of the girls here are on a mission to get guys to buy them drinks. I admire your integrity, so here is a small reward." He took a step closer to her, clearly impressed with his own gallantry. Caitlin's beautiful dark green eyes narrowed. Either side of her, her two friends' expressions became pre-emptively apologetic.

"I'm perfectly capable of buying my own drinks." Caitlin tried to snap the words but her mouth wouldn't comply. To her horror she almost slurred the words. She'd only had three drinks hadn't she... Or was it four? Older guy raised his hands in a placatory gesture and took a half-step back.

"Whoa missy, nobody said you weren't." He said, chuckling awkwardly at the girl's venom.

If there was one thing hot short girls in their mid twenties who still aggravatingly looked like jailbait hated more than being patronised, it was being laughed at indulgently. It was a verbal pat on the head. Paternal in sentiment. Caitlin visibly bristled.

"Well I don't need your patriarchal approval to validate my choices." Oh, that took far too long to say. Caitlin's brow puckered in inebriated concentration. "I am not your fucking concern." She pointed a finger at the man but either her finger was swaying... Or the rest of her was... She couldn't decide which.

This was really odd. Caitlin never got drunk. She was too terrified of being a victim of sexual assault. She was even wearing tight jeans because she knew they were difficult for an attacker to remove. Beneath that was plain, utilitarian white underwear. In her purse Caitlin had a rape alarm and a small canister of mace.

Her level of drunkenness ceased to be important as her two friends collapsed into helpless giggles. Jenna picked up the V&T and toasted Caitlin with it.

"Well Catnip, if it's against one of your three squillion principles to accept drinks from strange men, I'll just have to take the bullet for you. It's a sacrifice I'm willing to make."

Caitlin swiped the glass out of Jenna's hand with impressive dexterity but managed to splash some of it down her front. It had been a blistering August day and the bar's air-con was No match for a couple of hundred drunken revellers. Caitlin's white top and bra clung to B cup breasts that were generous on her tiny frame. Her alabaster pale body was dewed with sweat.

"No way!" She crowed triumphantly. Sure, I can buy my own drinks but I'll have to talk to that fucking barman again." She rolled her eyes. Megan shook her head.

"Cat, you are going to die alone." She asserted with amused exasperation. "I'm just going to call it and get you sixteen cats for your birthday."

 

[AntonTovaras]

Unless you paid attention, you would really never notice quite how busy Jack was. The bar was packed, and people were thirsty, but he never seemed to rush. He was efficient, he moved with economy, and he juggled orders and customers, apparently with no effort. Anyone with experience in the industry would recognize his talent, and that was the reason he was tending bar here, at one of the trendiest places in the city.

He was classically handsome, with thick, sensual lips and flashing blue eyes that always seemed to be laughing at some joke that only he was privy to. His dark hair was cut short, and he was tall and lean, with a wiry strength from wrestling kegs and drunks into their respective spots. There were plenty of girls that were here hoping to catch his eye, but the simple truth was that they bored him. They were just available. All he had to do to park his cock between one’s lips was smile and ask her to stick around after closing. The ones he had gone so far as to take home went along with whatever he wanted, to the point that he was sliding deeper into strange perversions, things he had no real interest in, just to find something they wouldn’t do without blinking.

Tonight, he had noticed someone new. She was a tiny little thing who perched on her barstool looking down on the world. Not like she was a queen, but like she was somehow above it all. More than a few guys took a run at her, and one by one they limped away. Her friends seemed almost embarrassed by her. He didn’t ask, he just dropped off a fresh round for the group whenever they seemed in danger of reaching the end of their drinks.

“Vodka tonic,” Harris asked. He was a nice enough guy, probably too old for the scene here, but not so much that he came off as a creeper. He was also strictly a scotch guy.

Jack made the drink and took a moment to clean a few glasses in the little sink under the bar. Really, his bar back should be handling that, but he wanted to hear how things worked out for Harris.

Badly. Apparently, buying her a drink was an offense. Jack frowned. It was one thing not to want to get hit on, that he could understand. Though with jeans that tight, she was not exactly sending out the right signal. But patriarchal approval? Validate her choices? The guy was just trying to buy her a drink. And, she was drinking it, apparently because it was better than talking to Jack.

Jack frowned. Had he said anything to her? He had taken her order. He had brought her drinks. He had asked her if she was ready for another. Where was the harm in that?

“What can I get you, babe?” he said, noticing a busty blonde who was either very thirsty or needed help reloading her bra. Possibly both.

“Can I have a cumshot?” she said.

“You sure can, honey,” Jack said, with a lewd wink. The poor thing, he thought. Butterscotch schnapps, Bailey’s, whipped cream. She would have to drink that, now, and she probably thought she was being clever.

He was squirting the whipped cream when it hit him. Babe, honey, sugar, doll, darling. The little snot with the chip on her shoulder about the patriarchy probably didn’t like being called names like that. Jack called every girl names like that. When he went home with one, he’d usually go through her purse to find out her name while she was sleeping. If he thought it mattered. He looked at the girl. He should probably apologize, but she was wearing half her drink now and her top was clinging to her chest in a delightful way.

“Oh, careful there, babe,” he said, and set a fresh drink in front of her. He put a stack of paper napkins beside her to. “Just in case, sweetie. For all I know, you might have wanted to wear all that vodka.”

Then he turned to Harris, and says loudly enough for everyone nearby. “She says she meant to say ‘thank you,’ but it came out wrong. Isn’t that right, honeybuns?”

He shot her a wink, and headed down to the far end of the bar to take care of some dudebros who needed another round of Jaeger bombs. He felt himself smiling, grinning even. It had been fun, giving her a hard time. He hoped she’d stick around for a while.

 

[PerpetualNotion]

Caitlin wanted to snap, "Don't call me babe!" But she still had enough wherewithal to realise she would be quoting Pamela fucking Anderson. She glared at the pile of napkins and then flicked her gaze up towards the bar tender who had set them down. Before she could pull together a suitable reply Jenna was grabbing her wrist to get her attention.

"Cat, he's just being nice." She asserted, tossing the tall, cute bar tender a very appreciative glance. He just carried right on smirking. Why were the hot ones always assholes? Damnit.

"She says she meant to say thank you but it came out wrong... Isn't that right honeybuns?"

Fuckety. Caitlin was going to go psycho.

Caitlin was scrubbing at her tits with the napkins when the bar tender threw his comment at her. Like she was his fucking business. Like he was at risk of sexual violence from everyone who found him attractive.

Like he had ANY fucking idea.

It wasn't even what he said or the sexist language he favoured, it was his total arrogance. You didn't run a bar like this one without that kind of attitude but his self confident swagger was something else. His eyes had fallen down the front of her damp top when he set the napkins down. No polite pretence at averting his gaze, not even any attempt to mask the lecherous gleam in his eyes. He'd been the same with that drunk slut asking for a 'cumshot' but SHE was asking for it. Caitlin had given him absolutely no encouragement. So he was fucking with her, because he knew she'd bite. Some bar tenders actively avoided serving her in the vain hope she'd fuck off and be a killjoy somewhere else. This guy simply didn't care.

Jenna rolled her eyes and moved in front of Cat, intercepting the glare she was shooting at the bar tender. They regarded one another.

"Cat, I am here to relax. I'm also here because I don't want to die a fucking spinster. Why do you even care what this asshole thinks?"

Cat's expression became dangerously mutinous but after a long moment she shrugged, homicidal tension ebbing from her body. She nodded.

"You're right, I'm being silly." She admitted, forcing a smile. "It's just the vodka talking."

"Oh how I wish it was the vodka talking!" Jenna snapped back.

 

[AntonTovaras]

"I keep telling them to stock talking vodka, but what do I know, I'm just the bartender," Jack said. He had drifted back in their direction in time to catch their exchange. He scooped some ice into a shaker and poured vodka over it, then strolled down the bar, taking orders as he swirled it. When the shaker was sweating and cold to the touch, he set a row of shot glasses in front of the feminists.

"Listen to this, ok sugarpie?" he said to the bitchy one. "See what that says to you." He poured a round of shots, sliding one to each of the girls and then picking one up himself. He raised his glass and looked them each in the eye, stopping at the one with the wet top.

"Here's to you, love, and here's to me," he said, and touched his glass to their's. He grinned at the bitchy one, leaned in and whispered. "I hope you'll kiss me where I pee." Then he threw his shot back and walked away down the bar. There were plenty of thirsty people, and it looked like her friends were working on keeping her on a leash.

*

The bar was packed, or course, when the time came. Jack rang the bell for last call. It was about twenty minutes before the bar actually closed, but he would be busy making people's last drinks until then, and then clearing tabs, and cleaning up. He had been steadily working on the pretty feminist, giving them far too many drinks and dropping pet names and crude remarks whenever she showed any signs of cooling down. Truthfully, he was surprised she hadn't jumped over the bar to assault him by now.

He wasn't sure quite why he was picking on her. Yes, she was pretty, but she was obviously more trouble than she was worth. The cumshot girl had gone home, in tears, he wasn't sure about what, and he had thrown back a few other choice pieces of tail that had offered themselves. There was just something about the feminist. What the hell kind of person takes a drink from someone and then gives them shit for buying it for them?

That was it, he thought. She needed to be set straight. He didn't really think she would actually give him the chance to set her straight. She would run away and hide and probably complain about how the bartender picked on her all night, and her friends would be jealous because none of them seemed to object to his casual flirtation.

"Anything else, beautiful?" he said, looking at the bitch. He made sure that they were the last ones he got to, just a minute before he had to stop serving.

 

[PerpetualNotion]

The bar was packed and Jenna was deliberately blocking her view. The 5ft 10in sun kissed blonde was wearing heels and Caitlin's view was pretty much just the other woman's rather impressive rack. She knew the bartender made some snarky comment about vodka but the rest of the exchange eluded her. Cat was saved the trouble of dealing with him again because he swiftly walked away. Cat didn't miss the way Jenna's gaze lingered on his denim clad ass either.

"Seriously!" She fumed. "How the hell can you find THAT attractive? His knuckles are scraping the ground!"

"And I'll bet that's not all." Jenna speculated mischievously. "Seriously Cat, take a chill pill. This is why we never invite you anywhere when you're fucking pre-mentrual." Cat's mouth opened but her brain was too vodka-addled to come up with a riposte fast enough. "Oh my God, was that sexist? I'll bet that was sexist. I hereby resign from womanhood because I am not worthy of my own goddamn womb!" Jenna's feigned anguish had her drunken best friend in giggles, which had been her intention.

Just when Cat had actually started to relax, the bartender returned and set some shot glasses down in front of them.

"Listen to this, OK, sugarpie? See what that says to you." He poured four shots and pushed the in front of Cat, Jenna and Megan, an attractive redhead who struggled to get a word in edgewise when with her two friends. Mega was about to say they hadn't ordered vodka but then the bartender lifted the fifth glass for himself. Megan blushed rather prettily, shy in the face of this guy's practiced swagger. He regarded each of the girls but it was Cat's gaze he lingered on. It was maddening. He was a played to pour drinks and then fuck off, not strut about like it was his own goddamn bar and he had default dibs on every woman in it. "Here's to you and here's to me. I hope you'll kiss me where I pee." He threw back his shot and sauntered off. Jenna and Megan giggled. Megan turned to Cat sympathetically.

"Oh come on, he's baiting because you're biting. Might as well get a free shot out of it."

Cat hesitated. In her book every red blooded male who bought a woman a drink thought he was owed something. But he was just the bar tender right? It's what he does, just his job. There were plenty of women here vying for his attention. Why the hell would he single HER out?

Jenna lost her patience and pinched Cat's nose shut. When her mouth flew open the vodka was deposited in it. Cat had the options of swallowing, choking or spitting it out. She capitulated.

"Alright." Jenna said, releasing Cat's nose. "Either you start having a good night or I'm going to go dance and get laid."

~xXx~​

Cat got rather drunk after that. She didn't drink anymore vodka, it just all caught up with her. Jenna even elected to assist her to the restroom, which Cat asserted was just penance for force-feeding her. Cat made it back to her bar stool and sat swaying on it, warm fuzzy drunkenness mellowing her. She couldn't possibly drink anymore.

A few minutes later a vodka tonic was smacked down in front of her. "There's your drink, cuteness."

Cat wasn't even sure what she yelled back at him.

He'd walked away and she had taken a swig before it dawned on Cat she hadn't ordered anything.

Asshole!

The rest of the evening Megan spent dancing and flirting with some guy. Jenna alternated between calming Cat down and muttering to the bartender to wind his neck in. "She's drunk. You're being a dick." In the end she just wanted to go home. When she heard the shout for last orders she was so relieved. Now she had to pour an incendescent fun-size feminist into a cab.

Just great.

"Anything else, beautiful?"

Jenna could have slapped him. Anyone could see that Cat had had enough.

"Round of shots." Cat said, needled at the patronising look the guy had at how low the alcohol tolerance Of her puny female form.

"Where's your boss?" She asked, slurring a little. "I wanna see what he thinks of you harassing me all night."

 

[AntonTovaras]

"My boss?" Jack said, pouring another round of shots for the girl. His eyes scanned the bar, and then he pointed at a well dressed man walking out the door with his hand on an ass young enough to belong to his daughter. "You might catch him if you hurry. His name's Dick."

He had no idea who the man was, some Wall Street type who cruised in to pick up skanks, but he'd have his little bimbo in the back of a cab before this little feminista made it to the door.

"Harassing?" he said. He looked at the busty blonde she came with. "Was I harassing her?"

Jenna shook her head and held her hands up. "Shhhit, I don't know. She's just pisssed off at an'thin' with a dick." She was wasted, barely able to keep her balance leaning on the bar. "I'm getting an Uber. You coming?"

Jack looked at the sexy little bitch and sighed. Then he held up a finger. He went to take care of a few tabs, and encourage a few other people to head for the door. He came back just as Jenna was headed for the door.

"Look," he said, pouring another pair of shots for him and Cat. "It's my job to make sure people are having fun. When you came in here, you were looking to go to war with any guy that so much as said hello. So I kept you pissed at me so you didn't run around picking fights with every guy in here. Plus, you're cute when you're mad. If I went over the line, I'm sorry. Let me make it up to you."

He gave her the smile that dropped more panties than he could remember, and lifted his glass. He nudged hers towards her. At the door, Jenna had stopped to watch, but her Uber was just coming around the corner.

"Come on," Jack said. "Peace?"

 

[PerpetualNotion]

"Peace." Cat said, more in response to the expression on Jenna's face than through any desire to cut the barman a break. It had been a long night and she was pissed and tired. The misandric fervour with which she had been attacking guys had been drowned in vodka and consequently, she was having a hard time giving a shit about anything... except that uber. Normally Cat would never have got into one. She was convinced they were all predatory men because they weren't registered or licenced like cab drivers.

Her conciliatory mood had absolutely nothing to do with the sparkling blue eyes staring down at her. His handsome face and warm, sensual smile with the slightest sardonic twist to it... that had no bearing on the situation. The deep timbre of his voice rolling into her inebriated earlobes like warm molasses was a total irrelevance, as was his strong, lean frame with its wiry muscle. He had apologised sure, but only in the way adults 'apologised' to small children. It was an act of indulgence, not contrition. Even in her current state Cat could see that.

'Asshole.' She silently reaffirmed to herself.

"I'm going to the restroom." Cat announced, carefully dismounting from the bar stool onto her heels. In her drunken state she failed to register that everyone but her and Jenna was out the door.

"But he's here." Jenna announced, gesturing out the window to where a car was pulling up.

"And he really doesn't want me pissing in his car." Cat said firmly. She thought she did a passable impression of 'not shitfaced' as she tottered to the restroom but the reality was that motor skills were taxing her now. She locked herself in a stall and damn near fell over wrestling the tight jeans down to her knees. Cat sank down gratefully onto the solid, definitely not swaying toilet seat and took care of her business.

 

[AntonTovaras]

Jenna made it out the front door, and Jack followed her to flip the latch and lock the door. He watched and after a moment the car drove away, the drunk girl clearly giving in to the driver's impatience, and the chorus of honking horns behind them. He went out and pulled the shutters closed and switched the lights on inside. There was plenty to do, and he got started, wiping down the tables and the bar, putting the chairs up. He swept the floor, amazed as ever by what pigs people can be, the amount of garbage that ends up on the floor. He was filling the mop bucket up when he heard the bathroom door open, and out came the bitch, weaving unsteadily, staggering. Wasted.

He smiled and walked over to her. She was hammered enough that she didn't even notice him until he was slipping his arms around her. One around her waist to lift her off her feet, and the other under her arm, the hand catching her hair and pulling her head back so he could kiss her. He kissed her hard, but he backed off to feather little pecks on her lips, and then he slipped his tongue into her mouth. After long seconds, he broke the kiss.

"I've been waiting all night to do that," he whispered in her ear. Then he leaned back and grinned at her. "Honeypuss."

 

[PerpetualNotion]

Inebriated as she was, Caitlin kicked and clawed, writhing in his arms like a scalded cat.

"GET OFF ME!" She shrieked.

Unfortunately for her, she was drunk and wearing ridiculous heels. She was so shocked and her balance so poor that Cat wound up pretty much dangling from the fist in her hair, feet scrabbling on the greasy floor for purchase.

"JENNA!" She yelled, still struggling. "Help me! Jenna!"