OOC - This is an Open Thread with no real outline of where it's going or who can play. Because of that it may falter quickly, or it may not. Join in if you wish. The more the merrier. The only limit here is that there are no limits…other than all the action must remain in the bar.
IC –
Lisa – a 30 year old blond, 5’6” tall, long blond hair, a classy lady, but with an edge to her
She pushed open the door and sauntered into her old haunt. Not much had changed at The Tahiti Treat—a bar with a gaudy Island theme. The blue smoke enveloped her in its cloying smell, the noise surrounded her and pulled her further inside. She scanned the room quickly—the waitresses still wore grass skirts and skimpy bras. The fake palm tree branches still rustled under the breeze of the bamboo fans twirling overhead. Next she glanced at the patrons—none looked familiar, yet they all looked the same too. She shrugged her shoulders as she thought to herself, “the more things change, the more they stayed the same”.
Though that wasn’t entirely true. She’d spent many a night here serving up drinks, and whatever else her customers were prepared to pay well for, while paying to put herself through College all those years ago. Those were the days when the only men who fucked her over did it with the dicks. Now the men still tried to screw her all the time, but now it was usually with the end of a pen as it signed the dotted line on a contract. In many ways she longed for her simpler bartending days.
Her tired feet moved her toward the bar. It had been a long long day…she’d been up at 5 a.m. to prepare her final notes for the emergency Board Meeting at 10 that same morning. As Senior Vice-President, she’d again had to clean up after the CEO of the company as usual. Mr. Witter was a stupid old codger who made one bad decision after then next. She leaned up against the bar stool, taking the weight off of her black patent leather stillettos. Her short tight skirt rode up her trim thighs. She caught the bar tender’s eye, flashed him a welcoming grin and waited for him to move closer before ordering. “Give me a scotch would ya Baby, on the rocks please.” He nodded his head to her to indicate he’d got her order. She saw his eyes skim her body as he poured. She again used the time to scout the place. There were quite a few folks there even though the night was early. Her eyes lighted on the bunch of guys playing pool and bull shitting, in another corner a group of giddy women carried on with a blow-up doll—no doubt one of them was getting married soon.
“There you are Ma’am,” the bartender flashed her a grin. God how she hated that—being called Ma’am. It made her feel old. Lisa tossed down the bills to pay for her drink before scooping it up and heading for a quiet table at the back of the room where she could watch the room and enjoy her drink. The night was hot, and she popped open several buttons on her white blouse, exposing a scandalous amount of cleavage to the cooling breeze of the fan above.
IC –
Lisa – a 30 year old blond, 5’6” tall, long blond hair, a classy lady, but with an edge to her
She pushed open the door and sauntered into her old haunt. Not much had changed at The Tahiti Treat—a bar with a gaudy Island theme. The blue smoke enveloped her in its cloying smell, the noise surrounded her and pulled her further inside. She scanned the room quickly—the waitresses still wore grass skirts and skimpy bras. The fake palm tree branches still rustled under the breeze of the bamboo fans twirling overhead. Next she glanced at the patrons—none looked familiar, yet they all looked the same too. She shrugged her shoulders as she thought to herself, “the more things change, the more they stayed the same”.
Though that wasn’t entirely true. She’d spent many a night here serving up drinks, and whatever else her customers were prepared to pay well for, while paying to put herself through College all those years ago. Those were the days when the only men who fucked her over did it with the dicks. Now the men still tried to screw her all the time, but now it was usually with the end of a pen as it signed the dotted line on a contract. In many ways she longed for her simpler bartending days.
Her tired feet moved her toward the bar. It had been a long long day…she’d been up at 5 a.m. to prepare her final notes for the emergency Board Meeting at 10 that same morning. As Senior Vice-President, she’d again had to clean up after the CEO of the company as usual. Mr. Witter was a stupid old codger who made one bad decision after then next. She leaned up against the bar stool, taking the weight off of her black patent leather stillettos. Her short tight skirt rode up her trim thighs. She caught the bar tender’s eye, flashed him a welcoming grin and waited for him to move closer before ordering. “Give me a scotch would ya Baby, on the rocks please.” He nodded his head to her to indicate he’d got her order. She saw his eyes skim her body as he poured. She again used the time to scout the place. There were quite a few folks there even though the night was early. Her eyes lighted on the bunch of guys playing pool and bull shitting, in another corner a group of giddy women carried on with a blow-up doll—no doubt one of them was getting married soon.
“There you are Ma’am,” the bartender flashed her a grin. God how she hated that—being called Ma’am. It made her feel old. Lisa tossed down the bills to pay for her drink before scooping it up and heading for a quiet table at the back of the room where she could watch the room and enjoy her drink. The night was hot, and she popped open several buttons on her white blouse, exposing a scandalous amount of cleavage to the cooling breeze of the fan above.
