More Bang for His Buck

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It was 2am, and I’d just gotten home from work. I danced around my kitchen, humming quietly to myself in between bites of dinner. My bare feet, toes painted bright red, padded on the floor, and my white lacy nightgown swayed and moved over my full hips. I wasn’t wearing it for anyone in particular — I just liked wearing pretty things, especially at night after work. It made me feel sexy, and luxurious.

Work had been good tonight. Being a Thursday, the club had been full enough but not crowded and the rude patrons had been at a minimum. I’d had time to chat minimally with a few cute guys, and to flirt, bending over the bar to show off my low-cut shirt and ample cleavage. Still, I was tired. And the job had definitely begun to wear on me gradually over the months.

The other bartenders were mostly all skinny women — aside from my friend James, who’d landed me the job, of course. I was getting tired of listening to them giggle and gossip and, on not a few occasions, go home with guys at the end of the night. Men would stare at my chest and chat me up, but I was pretty sure they wouldn’t appreciate me so much if they could see me from the waist down. Anyway, I was starting to get annoyed with the night shift, and sleeping half the day away. But there would always be excuses. The fact was, I’d never stayed in a job for very long, be it office or bar.

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