Many thanks to Literotica author 'englander1961' for her help, editorial services, encouragement and a title much better than my original, which has elevated her to the status of House Goddess of Sexy Story Titles. Effusive thanks to Holly, the beloved and erotic Sister Decadence for her encouragement, editorial review and kind words. Thanks to Literotica author 'KY ridgerunner' for the stories that planted the idea in my head months ago.
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* * * * *
Harry Grimes had stopped in at the bar because he'd remembered it as it used to be.
Many years before, he'd stopped there regularly on his way home from work, moving past the bar and its stools deep into the coolness of its dark interior where he would rest his eyes from the glare of the Texas sun while a shot and beer eased the stress from his forehead. Thirty minutes of rest in the soothing cavern-like depths and he would be ready to face the freeway again.
"Shannon, you're a lifesaver" he'd tell the bartender, and away he'd go, half his journey home completed, fortified for the rest of his evening commute.
But then he'd gotten married, and his drinking every night had bothered her, and he'd have done anything for her, so he'd stopped, and for three years it had been fine and glorious and wonderful and they'd fucked like wildebeests-on-ecstasy and that was it and it was forever and nothing could ever change it and one day he came home early and her car was in the driveway and what was she doing home from work and who's car was that next to hers and "what the fuck do you think you're doing with my wife" and "why didn't you tell me you felt this way, we could have gone to counseling" and "I'm sorry you think it's too late for that" and so they were separated and when Harry wasn't lying to himself he was pretty sure the only reason she held out the hope of reconciliation was to let him down a little easier.
All in all, after six months of separation, it seemed a pretty good reason to start having a drink on the way home from work every night.
So he'd pulled in at the Pearl, tucked in-between a head shop and an adult newsstand, parked the car and headed in, expecting Shannon to be tending bar with his usual bemused smile on his face, the décor to still be just one step up from 'Texas Beer Joint Casual', the radio to be playing classic rock, but not too loud.
He didn't notice the head shop had become 'Fist of Love Tattoos'. He didn't notice that the adult newsstand was now a club called 'Vortex Void'. He was too busy seeing things the way they used to be and squinting from the glare of the sun, even behind his sunglasses, to notice little changes like that.
The inside of the Pearl hadn't changed much; the décor had moved up some, it was right around what he would have called, in his youth, 'Punk Club Normal'. The music was a little more contemporary and the bartender was a bit more extreme; lots of tats, lots of piercings. He was friendly enough, said his name was Ruben and he was quick with the drink order.
And after one shot and beer, Harry couldn't think of a reason he shouldn't have another. And Ruben helpfully brought him a menu from the small kitchen, and so it was a basket of fried mushrooms and cheese sticks and another round.
Harry still couldn't think of any reason to go home, so another round was in order.
When the music from the club next door started to pound through the walls, the radio was turned off. Harry barely noticed. When the bar started to fill up with people, all of them younger than him, sitting in small groups and talking, Harry barely noticed. He sat there drinking and thinking and thinking about drinking and searching for a reason to go home and his booth in the back of the Pearl really started to feel like home and that friendly Ruben brought by another basket of fried mushrooms that he wasn't sure he'd ordered but they sure were good and somewhere in there this curvaceous little girl in a black dress and interesting makeup, like a ghost or something, had showed up at his booth and had talked him into changing his drinking rhythm. Two big glasses of water, then a shot and a beer, then two more big glasses of water, and he was pretty sure he'd been talking to her about Angie and their marriage and since she was listening he'd bought her a round, or maybe two, and definitely something to eat, but mostly she was drinking water and she was a real good listener and he might have cried some, he wasn't sure and then he didn't remember anything at all for awhile.
* * * * *
He was riding down the freeway with his head out the window, not feeling sick, but the wind moving across his face felt good to him. He wondered who was driving.
* * * * *
And he was moving up the walkway to his house and he wanted to list to the left but he couldn't because there was this little obstacle in his way.
* * * * *
He was sitting on the end of his bed with his underwear and one sock on. The little girl from the bar was making him take a lot of aspirin, one at a time, chased by big gulps of water.
* * * * *
He came half awake in the middle of the night, his bladder urgently calling him to the bathroom. He felt alright, but upon sliding out of bed he found that his body and his mind disagreed on just how alright he was.
And she was there, a small figure in a white t-shirt way too large for her, helping him into the bathroom. She lifted the lid and set him down on the seat.
"I stand up to pee" he said through a fog of confusion.
"Not tonight Harry. Tonight you sit down to pee. And while you're sitting down to pee, you take more aspirin and drink more water."
So he did and she helped him back to bed and he slipped back into sleep, wondering where the little elfin creature went when she wasn't helping him.
* * * * *
He surfaced through the layers of sleep again at someone tugging on his arm.
"Harry, I found your business card in your wallet, who do I need to talk to at your office? Who's your boss?"
Her questions confused him and answering them seemed to be the best way to make them, and the confusion, stop.
"Karen Pinard. Talk to Karen Pinard."
As he lay there, floating on the surface of sleep, he heard her talking to someone. She had dropped the tone of her voice ever so slightly, sounding more mature.
"Yes, Ms. Pinard please? Thank you. Ms. Pinard, this is Carol Riley, I'm an old friend of Harry Grimes. My husband and I met him for supper last night and he took sick, some sort of stomach ailment. We got him home and I've stopped by to check on him on my way to work this morning. I'm afraid he won't be in today. Yes ma'am, he made sure to have me call you, it was the first thing on his mind. Yes, I may well be taking time off this afternoon and taking him to the doctor if he isn't better by then. Why yes, of course, I'll pass that on to him. Thank you so much Ms. Pinard. Good bye."
She hung up the phone and leaned down next to his head, kissing him on the cheek.
"Harry honey, it's ok, go back to sleep, your boss says you're all caught up, so they can afford to be without you for a couple of days, you just get to feeling better."
Harry drifted away again.
* * * * *
He came partially awake with a start, hearing the shower running.
"Oh, it's just Carol" he thought to himself and went back to sleep, not thinking it odd that he was comfortable with a woman he'd only just met, and didn't really know at all, being loose in his house.
* * * * *
He came to once again to a sensation he hadn't had since childhood. Someone was bathing him.
He lay there with his eyes closed as the warm wet washcloth traveled across his face to his neck, a brief pause as it was re-moistened, then around his neck, and on the back of his neck.
He marveled at a feeling of paralyzation as he lay there, seemingly unable to move as she washed his chest and arms, stopping as she approached his groin to move down to his feet, there to begin cleaning her way up his legs. He realized that it wasn't that he couldn't move, it was that he didn't want to move, had no real reason to move. For the moment, he felt drained of the pain of his problems with Angie, purified of the poisons that had been building up to toxic levels in his mind as he kept his feelings about the separation inside. He felt as if some infection had been washed away from him and although the thought of his and Angie's probable impending divorce still saddened him, it was a sadness of acceptance.
As if she could read his mind, Carol said softly "So, I get the feeling you haven't talked to anyone about what's going on with you and your wife, have you?"
"No" he murmured, afraid to speak too loudly and break the mood.
"You sure said a lot last night Harry. When I sat down I could tell you were hurting, but I had no idea you were that bad off. She really did a number on you, didn't she?"
"I guess she did. I don't think she meant to though" Harry said, somewhat defensively.
"No, no I'm sure she didn't" Carol responded, "roll over. But she did nonetheless. There, that'll let me get started on your back."
