The redneck’s slurred voice carried to Jasmine as she poured his next beer.
Fuckers.
She swirled the glass in her hand, foam circling the edges of the dark liquid. Daring her. Smiling, she swished her tongue in her mouth, gathering a thick dollop of saliva, and spat in the drink. She swirled it once more, letting it cling to the foam, and walked back to the counter. Thunked it down in front of him.
“Four bucks, Murray.” Jasmine grinned at his sunburnt, weathered face and brought her elbows together. Leaning over the counter, she squished her small tits together. “You ain’t broke, right? I still expect a tip.”
His watery eyes focused on her cleavage. “I always got a tip for you, baby.”
The friend at his side laughed. “She’s not asking for that withered old pecker, motherfucker.”
“Not yet,” she answered.
The old timer smiled, his snaggletooth catching the glare from the beer light behind her. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. Pay up or get out.”
Wheezing a chuckle, the man reached into his shirt pocket and tweezed out a wad of ones. “You be careful, Miss Jasmine. That there’s a promise to an old fucker who’s likely to hold it to you.”
She let a smile break over her face and crooked a finger at him.
Both men leaned in.
Jasmine plucked the bills from his hand and slipped them into her scant cleavage. “Ain’t no one promise nothing, old man Murray. ‘Cept a tip.”
“Trying to give an old guy a heart attack?” the other one asked.
“Nah. Just get the younger one hard.” She arched a brow and traced the veins of his hand with her pinky. “Did it work?”
His reddened face slackened as his eyes dilated.
“Guess so.” Turning away, she left them dangling on the precipice of lust and opened the register.
One dollar. That’s it? Jasmine stared at the bill in her hand as if it would change. Flashed my titties at that old fucker like he could touch them, and I get a fucking dollar?
Her hands shook, her vision blurred.
She looked up, catching a glimpse of her reflection in the smoke stained mirrored wall in front of her.
Focus.
Straining her eyes, she concentrated on her clenched jaw. The chain of earrings down the shell of her ears. The dark paint she’d drawn over her eyes to bring out the green.
She’d stopped her meds weeks ago, and hadn’t had a problem since. All she’d needed to do was give herself a pep talk and be real careful about knowing what she was doing.
This isn’t the way I need to be. I ain’t fucking crazy. Chanting the last sentence in her head, she saw her face relax. Took a deep breath. She closed her eyes and counted to ten.
Jay Jenkins, her boss and now boyfriend, had given her a chance. A job when no one else in town would. Even though he’d recently given her busiest shifts to the new waitress, he’d kept her on, and she couldn’t let him down.
Bells hanging on the door chimed in succession as it opened. Jasmine looked into the reflection to see a tall woman with short spiky hair. She wore a fraying denim miniskirt. Pale blue button down shirt. Worn brown boots.
Jasmine closed the register, staring at the stranger. She’s not from around here.
The woman glanced across the bar, her gaze roaming over Jasmine’s body. Her head cocked to the side and she smiled. Licked her lips. Straightening her shoulders, her long legged stride lengthened, and she headed toward the corner of the bar nearest Jasmine until no longer visible in the mirror.
A stool dragged backward.
Jasmine took a breath, her eyes meeting her own reflection in the mirror. “Not fuckin’ crazy.”
Tossing back her limp blonde hair, she threw a smile on her face and turned to the stranger.
“Beam,” the girl said.
Smile turning genuine, Jasmine stopped a few paces from the bar. “Jim Beam?”
“Yeah, that.”
“Chaser or mixed?”
She didn’t look like a manly sort of woman, the way some of the bitches did that liked to look at her, but there was something about her that didn’t look like any kind of woman Jasmine knew. As if nothing would change her, nothing would get a chance, and fuck everything and everyone else. Like she was impenetrable.
That’s how I want to be.
“One straight, the next with Seven Up.”
Jasmine puckered her lips as she searched the other woman’s face and grabbed the bottle and glass. “Rough night?”
“Rough few years.” She raised a dark eyebrow, the gold in her irises flashing in the bar light. “How about you?”
Pouring the liquor, she felt almost naked in front of the brunette. Like the other woman could see through her. Not just looking at her little tits or pouty mouth, but as if she could see through everything everyone else couldn’t.
Jasmine set the bottle back on the bar and met the other woman’s eyes again. She tapped the shot glass with the back of her fingers and urged it toward her.
“Want to do a shot with me?” The side of the stranger’s lips curled up.
Fuck yeah.
Her fingers stopped on the stack of shot glasses below the bar as she remembered where she was. Who she was.
She closed her eyes. “I can’t.”
“Who’s stopping you?” The other woman’s fingers brushed her own as she reached for the glass. “You think anyone in this little shack of a bar would really give a shit if the cute bartender did one shot?”
Exhilaration shot through Jasmine’s veins, her nipples hardening as her breaths quickened.
“Just one,” the other girl said, taking her hand as she looked deeper into her eyes.
“Tell me your name and maybe I’ll think about it.”
“Miranda.” Her expression froze in place, then suddenly relaxed. “Randy for short. Just Randy.”
“I’m Jasmine. And I’ll be right back with your 7 Up. We don’t keep it out here.”
The brunette extended her fingers, releasing her hand.
Jasmine smiled back. Shaking her head, she turned to the rednecks staring at her from the other side of the bar. “I’m gonna go back there to get something for the new girl. Don’t do anything fucking stupid while I’m gone.”
“Us?” Murray slurred.
“You ain’t exactly innocent, Old Man Murray. So yes. You.”
“I’ll watch him,” his buddy said. “You got my word.”
She narrowed her eyes at him, then pointed at Murray. “He might end up being a good influence on you, Mr. Murray. Might want to get rid of him now if you don’t wanna be a better man.”
Uproarious laughter followed her as she walked down the little hallway into the back. She turned the little corner and opened the storage room door. Bending down, she reached through the open flaps of a box and pulled out the warm plastic bottle of soda.
“Oh, fuck.” A low feminine whimper carried through the wall next to her.
Jasmine stood up, the liquid in the heavy bottle hissing with her movement.
What the fuck was that?
Creaks groaned from the other side of the wall, mingling with a recurring rhythm of slapping sounds next door. The manager’s office. Jay Jenkins.
Her boyfriend.
“You like that?” asked a low masculine voice.
No.
Nostrils flaring, Jasmine lurched into the hallway and threw open the next door.
Her hand gripped the doorknob as her gaze rested on Jay’s flexing ass. The angle of the new waitress’s body draped over his old wooden desk allowed an optimal view of her boyfriend’s cock shoving into the bottle blonde’s cunt. His hips clapped against her ass, working her out harder and harder.
“Who’s my bad girl?” Sweat rolled down his greying hairline and he spanked the bitch’s big ass, her cellulite jiggling with the clap of his palm.
The new bitch threw her head back, catching Jasmine’s eyes and gasping. She smiled. “Me, baby. I’m all yours.”
You fucking cocksucker.
Jasmine’s hands started to shake, trying to hold in her explosion.
Jay turned his head, his eyes meeting hers as he clung to the new bitch’s hips. Thrusting hard. “I’ll be with you in a minute, Jazz. Close the fucking door.”
Eyes narrowed, teeth clamping together, she gripped the doorknob even tighter. Numb, disconnected, she stepped back. She turned in time to see him increase the pace of his pummeling cock once more, then slammed the door behind her.
The sound ricocheted through the empty bar.
Go, she told herself. Get the fuck out.
Her hand was stiff. Cramped. She glanced down at the bottle of soda in her clawed grip. Remembered the stranger at the bar. The girl who asked to have a drink with her, flirted a little. The one she’d turned down.
Jay didn’t give a fuck about Jasmine. None of them did.
Well neither the fuck do I.
Anger boiled in her stomach, rising throughout her chest and poisoning her limbs. Fisting her trembling free hand, she straightened her back. Inclined her chin. Then she beelined straight down the little hallway into the cloud of cigarette smoke and neon lights.
“Thought you might have left,” the new girl said, tracing a finger around the lip of her glass. “Did I worry you?”
Shaking her head, Jasmine grabbed a glass from the stack and submerged it in a crunch of ice. She pulled the glass back out and thunked it on the low counter on her side of the bar, the cubes tinkling inside. “No. Do I worry you?”
Randy grinned. “With the way you keep throwing around glassware? Maybe a little.”
Jasmine’s eyes flicked upward, catching the stranger’s smile and returning it. She went back to making the drink.
“So are you going to do that shot with me?”
Pulling away the paper wrapper of the straw, she plunged it into the nearly full cup and slid it across the bar. She snatched up a shot glass, flipped it onto the bar, and filled it with liquor. Then she plunked the bottle under the counter.
Lifting her eyebrows, she raised her shot in toast to the new girl.
Randy laughed and clinked the pint glass to her shot. She sipped her straw as Jasmine put the little glass to her lips and tossed her head back.
The whiskey’s foul taste surged through her mouth, pocketing underneath her tongue and between her gums before searing down her throat. Swallowing it all, she smacked her lips together and brought the glass back to the bar.
“Damn, girl.” Murray propped his head up on his arm as his elbow slid further and further down the slick bar. “Betcha swallow everything that good.”
Randy’s jaw clenched, lips pursing. She cut her eyes at the redneck.
“Don’t you got a beer to be suckin’ on, Murray?” Jasmine asked.
“You wanna know sumthin’ Jazzy?” He pointed a wavering finger at the brunette. “This here lady looks like she’s hot for ya.”
Smirking, she poured another shot. “That so?”
“Ya into that sorta thing? Ya know that there’s a sin. Homosapienism.”
The younger man next to him chuckled and pulled the brim of his hat down over his eyes.
Randy ran her tongue over her bottom lip before her front teeth sank into it. Her lips turned up on either end. “Those fucking homosapiens.”
“Ain’t you one o’ dem?” Murray stared at her, his eyes bloodshot.
Jasmine glanced over at the younger guy. “What about you? You think it’s a sin?”
He lifted his head until she could see his brown eyes. He was cute, in an innocent good-ole-boy way. His smile spoke volumes. “If it is or if it ain’t, two women together is a beautiful thing.”
“It is, isn’t it?” She turned her attention to Randy. “Did you want another shot?”
“Of course.”
“Good.” Lifting the shot glass to her mouth, Jasmine took the liquid inside and held it there. She put down the glass and stepped on the shelf below the bar, lifting herself a foot taller. Leaning over the glossy counter, she grabbed the back of the other girl’s head.
Randy let out a surprised laugh before rising on the barstool and meeting her lips halfway.
The tufts of short hair blew through Jasmine’s fingers. She parted her mouth, letting the disgusting liquid drain into the brunette’s oral cavity. Her hand followed the fall of her hair, crossed her slender neck and rested on her throat in time to feel the other girl swallow underneath her palm.
Fuck.
She pushed her tongue in her mouth, numb to taste but not to feel.
Randy’s tongue met hers, the little bumps of her warm, wet muscle stroking Jasmine’s. Her hands combed through her limp blonde hair, catching it between her fingers as she pinned her palm to the back of her skull.
“What the fuck? I leave for ten fucking minutes!”
Breaking the kiss and gasping for breath, Jasmine looked over her shoulder at Jay. She licked her lips and noticed the new bitch behind him, fixing her make up and fluffing out her hair. “Yeah. Ten minutes is all you could do. I wouldn’t want to savor that loose cunt either.”
“My office.” His eyes turned into slits. “Now.”
Stepping off the little shelf of the bar, she turned to the two rednecks. Murray’s mouth was open, his cracked lips teeming with unkempt facial hair. The younger guy rose his eyebrows in suggestion as she caught his gaze lifting from her ass.
She winked. Glanced at Randy.
The woman blew her a kiss.
Jasmine smiled and followed her boss down the hallway. She stripped the ties from the small of her back as she walked into the manager’s office.
Jay closed the door behind him. “I know we were messing around a lot, Jazz, but that didn’t mean you were my only girl. You had to know that, right?”
She stopped and turned at the other side of his desk. Pulled the rest of the apron off her hips, and folded the tough fabric until it was the size of her fist. Then she pitched it at his stomach.
He caught it and rolled his eyes. “You gonna throw a fit now? Jazz, are you even still on your meds? You been showing out lately.”
“Yeah, showing out. Like you fucking all the waitresses in your office? That’s showing out.” She closed the distance between them, reached up to caress the rough stubble of his cheek. “We had a good time, Jay.”
His hand brushed her arm before coiling into the inside of her elbow. Brushed against her small tits. “We have.”
“Yeah.” Letting go, she took a step to the side and looked at him. She searched his face, from his bushy eyebrows and prominent nose to the grey in his whiskers. Her hand rose again, staying to the side as if she didn’t know if she could handle touching him again without crumbling.
Jay’s hard features softened.
Slinging her palm forward, her palm connected to his cheek with a loud slap.
“What the fuck, Jazz?”
“Yeah, how about fuck you, motherfucker. Eat shit.” She shoved past him and yanked the door, hitting him in the shoulder with it as she made her way out.
“You fucking crazy bitch!”
Jasmine couldn’t help but grin and let the door slam shut on him. She didn’t need him. She didn’t need anyone. But when she turned to the hallway, she stopped short.
Randy stood in front of her. “I heard a little of that. Why don’t you come away with me?”
“Where?”
“Does it matter?”
Jasmine’s face flushed, her heart picking up speed as she looked into the other woman’s gold flecked eyes. “Why?”
Black nails caught her eye as Randy reached toward her face and tucked a blonde lock behind her ear. She then leaned against the wall, but the woman nevertheless seemed as if she were in Jasmine’s space. “Lets just say you might remind me of someone.”
“Where are you going?” Jasmine asked.
The other girl’s mouth opened, as if she could barely help herself. “Mexico.”
“Why?”
“Because,” she said in a lowered voice, “it’s not where I’m from. Or where you’re from. Both of us can start over there.”
“How do I know you’re not going to throw me in a hole and try to make a suit out of my skin or whatever?”
Randy smiled. “If I wanted to, I could do that here.”
Jasmine drew in a shaky breath, still not recovered from the anger toward Jay. The stranger was offering to take her away. Looking at her as if she knew everything she was feeling. As if she knew her long, jagged history, and all the terrible things she’d done and would do. And still wanted her at her side.
To face everything. The present, the future.
“I don’t bite, baby,” the woman said. “Not unless you ask nicely.”
Wetting her lips, her gaze caught on Randy’s. She wanted to feel that pucker on her own. That tongue in her mouth again. Goosebumps raced over her chest, her nipples hardening as her cunt exploded in heat.
The mouth she was consumed with turned up, that pink tongue flicking over it. “Sometimes you don’t need to ask.”
Her fingers brushed Jasmine’s cheek and traced under her jaw. She leaned down, her gaze intent on her lips before closing her eyes with the touch of their mouths.
Wetness slickened Jasmine’s pussy lips, her panties smearing it against her as she shifted her weight. Randy stepped closer, plunging her hand into her blonde hair, forcing her to step backward until her bare shoulders hit the wall behind her.
She let out a gasp when the other girl broke their kiss. The brunette’s open mouth searched her neck as her hot breath blew over her skin. Closing her eyes, she savored the gentleness of her touch, the respect in every wet, roving lick.
“Do you have a car?” the other woman asked, her lips brushing Jasmine’s clavicle.
“No,” she whispered, opening her eyes. “Need one?”
“As long as I can feel your body, beautiful, I wonder if I need anything else.”
The door to the men’s room opened, shedding light in her eyes and illuminating the shocked expression of the younger redneck patron. Smiling, Jasmine blew him a kiss and ran her hand over Randy’s short hair.
“I’m so wet.” Her words were as much for Randy as they were for the man staring at them.
He licked his lips. Shook his head as his gaze went to the brunette, and watched her fingers go to the button on Jasmine’s white shorts.
“I only want you,” she said.
The man met her eyes. Ran a hand over his burgeoning erection before grasping its thickness through his jeans. He raised his eyebrows, making his hat move upward, then bit his lower lip, the thin upper lip rising in a snarl.
“Bad girl,” he mouthed.
Smiling, she pressed her head against the wall, arching her back and driving her hips in to Randy’s capable hands. She moaned as the other woman lowered her zipper, then she focused on the man again. Mouth open, she ran her tongue over the inside of her upper lip, ending in the inside of her cheek. She wiggled it in the slick pocket, teasing him.
“Dirty bitch.”
The unspoken words were like music to her filthy soul, made even better by Randy’s soft finger breaking through her fleshy outer pussy lips and pressing onto her little clit.
“Want. To suck. My cock?” he mouthed.
Jasmine dragged her sopping tongue over her lips in answer even as Randy squeezed her little tit.
He jerked his head to the bathroom and walked in, the door fluttering to a stop behind them and bathing Randy and her in the dim lighting once again.
She grabbed Randy’s finger, leading it out of her panties.
The other woman looked up at her. “Rethinking things, beautiful?”
Jasmine’s shorts gaped at the crotch, barely hanging on her hips as she lead the brunette’s hand over the flat of her abs and dragged it over the bump of cleavage toward her lips. Dipping her head, she tongued the tip of her fingernail, followed with her mouth, and licked her own nectar from the brunette’s fingers.
“Not rethinking at all. Still need that car?”
Randy stood straighter, running her hand over the blonde’s hair. “What are you up to, gorgeous?”
“Wait here. Give me two minutes, then follow me.” Jasmine slipped out her grasp, gliding to the men’s room door. She put her palm to it and looked over her shoulder at the sexy brunette. “And don’t forget the wallet.”
***
Randy checked her watch. “Two minutes.”
The blonde was as dirty as she was passionate.
“Treacherous. You want her to come along?”
Oh yea, absolutely. And maybe with her around that voice in her head would finally go away.
She eased the smooth wood door open.
“Mi boca es su boca,” Jasmine murmured.
The muted conversation with the redneck floated through the cracked door of the handicapped stall. His big flashy belt buckle clattered to the stained grout, his jeans in front of the bartender’s bare knees.
Randy crept next to the stall. Lips pursued to quiet her breath, she crouched. Her knees splayed, allowing the cool air to chill her over heated pussy lips.