Mahoney's (closed)

[nerdystud]

Mark wiped down the bar with a cleanish towel and nodded his head absent-mindedly to the music from the jukebox. After working here two years, he didn't really hear the songs anymore. They were just a part of the environment like the neon beer signs and the framed movie posters on the walls. Like the songs on the jukebox, they were almost all from the 20th century. Mark thought that was why most of the regulars tended to be pushing thirty or even older. He didn't mind it, though. Maybe it made him a traitor to his generation or whatever, but the older crowd tipped better, puked less, and generally knew how to handle themselves.

So sometimes it got a little dull. Like now. There were three lumberjack hipsters shooting pool and drinking pints and a couple at the bar who had been in tears half an hour ago and were likely to be tearing each other's clothes off after she finished her cosmo. There was the ancient guys who bellied up to the bar every night and pestered him about being 23, but they were in the zombie stage where they stared at the game and sipped their drinks and mumbled to each other about the old days.

All of them would leave good tips, and overall, he knew he'd do ok for a Tuesday night, but last call was a long way off, and there wasn't much he could do. The fridge was stocked, everything was clean, everyone was happy. So he kept wiping down the bar and tried not to think about the girl. The trouble with dating nurses was they worked with doctors all day long, and they'd bitch about what a bunch of arrogant, know-it-all pricks they were until they found one to spread their legs for. Three months she'd been banging Doctor Whoever and telling Mark she had a headache, and now he knew and they'd broken up, but until she moved out, he didn't want to go home.

The jukebox picked that moment to start playing Hard to Handle, which shouldn't have been a downer, except it had been playing the night they hooked up, and it had been their song, a bit.

"Wake up, kid!" He looked up, and Gerry was standing up, taking out his wallet.

"Calling it a night?" Mark asked. The old guy grunted affirmatively, and Mark counted his drinks and added the price up in his head. "Thirty."

"You're a fucking crook, you know that?" the old guy said, but he dropped two twenties on the bar and knocked. He headed for the door.

"I know it," Mark smiled. They were a pain in the ass, but they were good customers. He saw one of them finish his bourbon and he grabbed the bottle to fill it. The door opened. Gerry had been reaching for the handle and nearly fell through, and Mark hesitated, waiting to see who was coming in.

 

[grdybiwife]

Lyla Moore was exhausted as she walked down the dark street to the metro station. Her husband had always complained about her coming home so late alone from the office, but you think he'd be nervous enough about her safety to come pick her up every once in a while. She laughed to herself, he was never that concerned to leave the comfort of the home they built together to ensure the main breadwinner of the house would make it home safely to make more money for them.

She passed the bar everyday, twice a day, and no matter the time there was always someone inside. She'd gone in once or twice, usually with a colleague for a quick night cap but never alone. She never really did anything alone. Her sensible work pumps stopped clicking just inside the door and she clutched the handle of her briefcase. All the while her mind telling her that she should just go home.

But she didn't listen to herself. She'd spent her life doing the sensible thing. Got a good job, married a good guy, bought a great house. Now she wanted to do something different, out of the ordinary.

Lyla took a deep breath and opened the do to be nearly demolished by a burly beer scented man.

"Hey watch where you're going lady," he mumbled as he pushed past her to leave.

"Sorry sir didn't see you coming out," she replied kindly, even though she knew he deserved no apology. But that way Lyla, always doing the right thing.

 

[nerdystud]

Mark chuckled and shook his head as Gerry nearly fell out the door, and then he smiled when he saw who walked in. She was definitely a step up from Gerry. More like several flights of steps up, he thought, considering. The suit, the shoes, the briefcase all said she was coming home from work, but it was late for anyone coming from an office. He drifted away from the oldies. If they got talking to her, she'd turn and run.

"Hi," he said, giving her a warm smile. He knew he was was a pretty good-looking guy, with dark hair cut short and blue eyes that seemed to see deep. With any luck, he thought, she would be the sort that wanted to talk. It would pass the time, if nothing else, and it would be nice to flirt with someone, to get the ex off his mind. He tossed the towel down to the end of the bar. Not that it needed to be there, but he wanted to show off a little. Why work out if nobody was going to admire the results?

"I'm Mark," he said, when she sat. "What can I do for you, tonight?" He looked at her a little too boldly when he said it, a cocky smirk turning up one corner of his mouth.

 

[grdybiwife]

His smile, just a shade away from douche, would have normal had her turning away. But not today. Today Lyla was trying something new, so she did the unthinkable. She smiled back, took off her blazer and lay it on top of her briefcase. In just the silky black camisole she wore underneath, Lyla rest her elbow on the bar pretending to survey the bottles behind him.

"Normally, Mark, I'd ask for a Tom Collins but I'll change it up tonight and have a long island." She held his gaze, her light brown eyes locked with his, as she gave her order. Out of habit she tapped here wedding ring finger, the platinum bands making a soft clacking sound. A nervous tick that developed after she quit smoking. It took her a few beats but she stopped and occupied her hands pulling the clip out of her curly auburn hair. She ran her fingers through it few times before she took out her phone to text her husband not to wait up, even though she knew he wouldn't.

"You must pour a good drink," she said as he made her drink, nodded at his tip jar. "And I'm Lyla by the way. "

 

[nerdystud]

He raised an eyebrow when she unbuttoned her blazer and slipped it off. His mouth opened just for a second before he grinned at the sight of her in her silky camisole, and he glanced up and down the bar. The oldies were absorbed in the game on TV, the plaidsters in their game of pool, and the couple at the end were well on their way to second base. Nobody needed him, and nobody else was seeing this. She had seen his double entendre and raised him, and he was ready to go all in.

"Long island," he said, and his eyes dropped to her hand as she tapped her wedding ring on the bar. "Right."

He reached out for a tall glass and scooped some ice in, then he spun on his heel and grabbed bottles. The wedding ring was a little disappointing, but only a little. It didn't change the way she looked at him, or the way she made sure to use his name, or the fact that she was showing herself off a little. And after working in a bar for two years, he knew people with wedding rings weren't any less likely to go home with strangers. He poured triple sec, gin, vodka, tequila, white rum in the glass. A splash of cola and a splash of lime juice. He set the drink on the rail and slipped a lemon wedge on the rim of the glass, and put a straw in.

"Tell you the truth, mostly I just pour beer. I don't know why they tip me well, but they do." He dropped a coaster on the bar in front of her, wrapped a paper napkin around the bottom half of the glass, to absorb condensation, and set the drink in front of her.

"It's nice meeting you, Lyla," he said with a grin, and nodded to her drink. "You let me know how that works for you, ok?"

 

[grdybiwife]

She kept her eyes on him as she took her first sip. It had been years since she had one, her first favorite drink. That was one of the first things her overly pretentious husband had waned out of her diet to be replaced by overpriced sour grape juice and sophisticated drinks that came with no garnish. With a smile, pulled her wallet from her briefcase and slid her card across the bar.

"When I get halfway through this one you can start on the next...and don't worry I'm an excellent tipper," she added the last with as wink as she worked the straw back into her mouth with her tongue.

 

[nerdystud]

"I'm glad to hear it," he said, more interested in what her tongue and lips were doing with the straw than in money, right now. He glanced up at her eyes and smiled. She'd been watching him, knew exactly what she was doing.

"Yo, Mark," a voice came from the end of the bar. The couple was done with their drinks, the girl's blouse still had one button closed.

"One sec," he said to Lyla. He left her card on the bar and went to give the couple their total. He looked down at the pool players and then the old men. He opened bottles for the oldies, and poured pints for the lumberjacks, and as if on cue, they started calling for a new round.

By the time he got back to Lyla, she was halfway through her drink. Fast work, he thought, but he made another, setting it beside the first. He wondered how well she handled her liquor. She seemed to know what she was doing, but you never knew who you'd end up scraping off the floor. He took her card and set it on the register.

"I haven't seen you in here before," he said. His eyes dipped to her cleavage for just a moment. "I'd remember." He shrugged, but let his eyes stay on her.

"So why aren't you and Tom getting along?" he asked, remembering she'd said she normally drank a Tom Collins.

 

[grdybiwife]

Lyla watched Mark as he went back to work. He was definitely flirting with her, whether for tips of genuine interest she wasn't sure. She also didn't care, enjoying his stolen glances at her cleavage and cocky smirks. He seemed like the type who knew he was handsome and normally that would have turned her off, not tonight though.

She let her eyes wander around the bar, taking in the appearance of the other patrons. Aside from her there was only one other woman and she seemed pretty busy trying to stay dressed. She smiled their way, wondering if there was ever a time when her husband had wanted her so bad he couldn't wait to get her home. She laughed at her own answer. Not likely.

His voice brought her attention back to him and she smiled as she saw her new drink. Lyla furrowed her brows a moment then snorted out a laugh as she finished up the last of her first drink.

"Ehhh, he bores me," she said simply with a shrug.

 

[nerdystud]

Mark noticed her eyes cutting to the couple as the guy hurriedly shelled out a few bills to cover their tab, and they headed for the exit.

"You guys have a good night," he said to them, without taking his eyes off Lyla. He saw the way she watched them as they headed out, heard the little laugh she gave at some private thought. He walked down to the end of the bar to pick up the money, subtracting the cost of their drinks in his head and dropping a few bills in the tip ar before the rest went in the register. He glanced over his shoulder at Lyla.

She was married, but she was here. She had taken her blazer off, showing off that beautiful body a little bit. Maybe she was just hot, but she'd been smiling at him when she did it.

"So Tom bores you," he said. "You came here looking for a little excitement?" As he said it, he nodded to her drinks. He picked up her empty glass and set it by the wash sink. He wondered if her husband bored her, too. He looked at the door where the couple had left.

"They look like they're pretty into each other," he said. "You think they know some secret to keeping things interesting?"

 

[grdybiwife]

Lyla took another sip of her second drink and pondered Mark's questions. She wanted to answer but she didn't want to seem loose. Or worse, desperate. So she stuck to what she knew, humor.

"Me stopping in here is probably the most exciting thing I've done all year so I'll give you that," she said with a smirk then took another sip before she tackled his next question. "It's booze, everything is more interesting when you're hammered. Show me a couple in their 80s sitting on a park bench, feeding birds and shit. The same park bench every week and ask them. I bet they know."

"Or maybe her pussy's so dry she doesn't care if he can't get it up anymore and he's so deaf he can't hear her nagging." Even as she said it, she cringed at how crass it sounded but she laughed anyway. That was something her younger self might have said, the self that might have asked this cute friendly bartender what time he finished so they could knock one out. The thought of it alone had her squeezing her thighs together.

 

[nerdystud]

His eyes opened a little wider at her words, and then he chuckled, shaking his head. She was joking, but underneath, there was some real bitterness. He wondered if her husband got it up anymore. Or if she had stopped caring. Looking at her, he knew there was no way she'd dried up. She just needed life to be interesting.

"If this is the most exciting thing you've done all year, then I think it's time to raise the bar," he said. He looked at her, considering. Long Island Tea. It was the classic drink for getting fucked up without knowing it. He thought maybe he'd change the recipe up a little, and he grabbed bottles and made a fresh concoction. It wasn't so different from the Long Island, but it was a bit sweeter, and had a pleasant, tropical flavor.

"I've never actually made one of these before," he said, pouring it into another tall glass. "It's called a Liquid Panty Dropper. We'll see if it lives up to the name." He gave her a playful wink. The pool players were finished with their game, shuffling to the bar to settle up. He looked up at the clock. Last call was getting closer, time moving faster now Lyla was here.