The sound of ice clinking in my glass is a metronome lulling me further away from my drink and into my head. I'm jarred from my thoughts when the seat next to me is occupied with a rough scrape of a stool. I barely register the apology murmured as my eyes close and I try to return to my thoughts. I exhale audibly, my chin raising as though I'm following some invincible pattern toward the ceiling. My head extends back and my lips part. I can smell you. So lost in this memory my senses betray me bringing you further into my present. I'm alone at the corner street bar hoping the gin will sanitize me. A light buzz taking hold intended to drown you out and failing. Instead, it's a paralytic holding me in place locked in memory. The scratch of your beard against my sensitive, exposed... I'm jostled as the asshole next to me repositions himself. Pulled from the dark room and your mouth on mine to a drink now spilled across my shirt leaving me wet and annoyed.
I roll my eyes, I suppose I was at least one of those already. Not bothering to acknowledge the apology I storm away leaving my seat and half finished drink abandoned. I stomp towards the bathroom.
My irritation flares around me leaving an open path as happy couples and drunk regulars avoid meeting my eyes. I'm short, not coming up to most people's shoulders but my glare has always held the power to equalize any perceived weakness. I'm momentarily debilitated remembering your immunity to such things. Your smirk where others would cower. I physically shake the thought from my shoulders and burst through the bathroom door exasperated.
I know the sign said out of order, but so am I and space is necessary. I immediately turn on the sink avoiding my own face in the mirror. I know what I'll see. The oversized band tee tucked into ripped Jean shorts now wet with gin. My faded red lipstick from work. Images once again flash as though my eyes are still closed. The same red color smeared over my lips and chin, panting on my knees. The cold splash I force myself to take from the sink isn't halting my thoughts as hoped. I sigh and go for another cold plunge when the lights suddenly go out and I'm now drenched in darkness. This place has always been a shit hole, I shouldn't be surprised. I'm more concerned about touching anything gross, eyes still closed and damp while tentatively searching the wall for paper towels. The sound of shuffling feet and disappointed drunks is audible through the door. Must be another power outage.
The door creeks open as my fingers meet the sticky surface of an old paper towel dispenser. "I'll be right out" I offer, not feeling like being scolded for ignoring the sign at the door. No response, but the door slams. I sigh again dragging the rough and musty smelling paper down my face. The sudden sensation of being watched overwhelms me. I toss the paper towel on the floor laughing. I'm getting pretty pathetic. First I smell him now I'm feeling watched. I begin to ponder the bad romance novel I'm becoming when the unmistakable sensation of breath hits my neck and top of my head from behind.
I half scream and instantly all my senses are frozen. I can't move, can't breathe and the remaining water on my skin and damp shirt make me feel trapped in ice. I let out a sound between a whimper and an unknown word when a hand clamps over my mouth and a warm body presses in close from behind. The urge to struggle and bite is instant. My muscles begin to process my brains request just as I'm lifted off the floor knocking me off my axis.
I continue to make muffled sounds flailing when my feet hit the floor again. I'm in the same position but clearly he wanted me to know how easily I could be moved. A knee moves suddenly from behind me tracing my ass to thigh and is then wedged between me. My legs immediately move and shuffle widening my stance till the knee disappears and is replaced by warm calloused fingers. Im so confused and overwhelmed. I realize I've stopped fighting just as I I take note my head has dropped back into this persons chest. Shame rekindles my fight and I thrash again.
The arm around me clamps my mouth shut and squeezes harder. Fingers dig into my cheek as I realize I'm sandwiched between him and the filthy wall now. My forehead hits the surface and defeat begins sounding in my head to the tune of my panicked heartbeat. The breath atop my head slowly cascades downward until I can feel his face next to my ear. He nuzzles me? What the fuck kind of asshole! My thoughts go blank instantly. That smell. His smell. Like fresh laundry and citrus chewing gum. The barest feel of his beard against my cheek. I didn't hallucinate it, he was here.
When his nose caresses the shell of my ear I'm tensing for very different reasons. It's possible I've lost my mind. I consider for a moment I may be allowing a complete stranger to hold me against a wall based on the scent of his laundry. The warmth of a tongue behind my ear dissolves my thoughts. It can be him. I'm not strong enough to fight him off. There are no noises coming from the emptied bar. Nobody is here to save me. I make my choice, close my eyes and picture him. This is happening. I can unpack it later but for now even if it's not truly him, I'll let this be his hands and form touching and tormenting me.
As though sensing the shift I feel the lips next to my ear curl upward. He doesn't remove his hand from my mouth but the pressure pinning me in place loosens and the fingers I had forgotten about between my legs begin to trace a leisurely path up my inner thigh. My heart rate is just beginning to settle as his hands and force are suddenly absent. Confusion and disorientation flood me. I turn around but the rooms too dark to make out anything distinguishable.
The sound of scarping and glass clinking has my body paralyzed again. I startle looking to where the sound originated as a cool object is pressed against my arm. The shock of cold and condensation hits my bare skin. He trails the object up and down my exposed upper arm. I open my mouth, irritation ready to spill out when his other hand flattens a against my chest. His fingers spread wide against my breastplate. One finger settles into the nape of my neck. He pushes me gently and I concede walking myself backwards till my back hits the wall. I feel squeezed between something realizing the sink is at my side. The cold cylinder is removed from my arm and pressed against my lips. Its tilted forward and liquid hits my closed mouth. I realize it's a glass from the bar. I mumble sounds of disapproval I'm doubting will be cared about.
His other hand leaves my chest and closes around my chin. His index finger and thumb lock around my jaw not so gently encouraging me to open my mouth. The liquid pooled at my lips seeps in despite my resistance. The distinctive taste of gin with excessive amounts of lime bites my tongue. It's my drink... from the bar. I swallow and his rough grasp falls from my face. The sound of the glass being placed down on the sink beside us echoes loudly in the room. I can tell he's fidgeting with something and am surprised when wet, cold ice hit my lips. I let it pass my lips and accept the ice on my tongue. Unsure what to do I crack the cube with my teeth and am instantly met with the sharp sting of an open palm across the face.
