Every morning, Veronica got up at six in the morning. Even on the weekend, where there was nothing to wake up for, even if she'd been up later than normal that night... she would wake within ten minutes plus or minus of six. This would give her a whole hour to prepare herself to be freshly washed and perfectly prepared to sit in traffic for the better part of the next hour. If she could somehow shower and do her makeup in traffic, maybe she could get some of that time back.
Veronica was perfectly prepared to leave for the work day. She left her bedroom and walked out to the living room, seeing the television on and a video game being played.
"You're up early." Veronica called over the couch.
"No, I'm not." Came the slightly groggy reply.
Nicole, Veronica's roommate, sat at the center of the couch. As perfectly organized as Veronica was, Nicole was disorganized and sloppy. She hadn't bothered to brush her short platinum blonde hair in a while, still dressed in pajama bottoms and an old T-shirt, surrounded by take-out containers, crumbs from a glass of dry cereal in her lap.
"You stayed up all night just to play this game?"
"I have to save their little souls from the Devil."
Veronica stood next to the couch. Nicole didn't look away from the screen to engage her. In her defense, it looked like a difficult boss battle.
"Nicole... you need to get out of this funk." She begged. "It's been two weeks."
"I'm fine." She insisted.
She definitely wasn't. Nicole wasn't screaming and crying anymore, and hadn't broken anything in rage, but deprived of all that energy and anger... now, Nicole was just existing. This was the worst response to getting dumped that Veronica had ever witnessed. It had completely destroyed Nicole's self-esteem.
"You're not fine. You're stuck. You need to get out there."
"And find someone else to break my heart, and to tell me lies, only to stab me with the truth?"
"She hurt you with lies, not the truth."
"She said I was inadequate."
Veronica faltered. "What difference does that make?"
"She was much bigger than me." Nicole couldn't gesture with the controller in her hands. "Almost twice as big as me. I thought she was just gargantuan. It turns out I'm just small."
"It's no big deal."
"I know you're trying to cheer me up, but... what do you know about penis size? You're a lesbian."
"You know how big my vibrator is? It's like one of those pen lights."
"Well, I don't vibrate at four thousand RPM."
A sudden loud noise came from the game. Nicole set the controller down. "Well, that was my last life, so... I guess I will go to sleep."
Without turning off the game, she fell to one side and pulled a throw pillow under her arms. Veronica lovingly draped a blanket over her and rubbed her shoulder. Nicole barely looked up. Veronica kissed her on the cheek.
Despite it all, Nicole still smiled, as Veronica knew she would.
"When I get home from work, we're going out and doing something. You need to get out of this low orbit you've been trapped in."
"OK." She responded weakly.
Veronica left.
Nicole felt like she'd been buried in concrete, the light bed sheet like an equal strip of chain mail, pinning her to the couch. She hadn't been pulling these all-nighter gaming sessions because the game was that compelling. To be fair, the game was excellent. Nicole simply couldn't take any more nights writhing in bed, replaying events over and over in her head, wondering where it had all gone wrong, wishing she'd said something else.
All she wanted was to wear herself out to the point where the physical exhaustion would distract from her emotional turmoil, too weak to masturbate with her inadequate penis, and sleep would come quickly once her head was on the pillow.
But even this time, the sandman was being stingy. Nicole's head crackled with the static of the overtired yet anxious mind. She reached to the coffee table and grabbed the controller. She started a new game, and simply held down the A button at the start of the first level. The controller buzzed with the vibration of the first player repeatedly shooting into open space.
Nicole then reached into her pajama pants, pulled out her penis, and set the boomerang-shaped controller between her cock and balls, the points of the controller surrounding either side of her erection. The sensation made her exhausted body quiver as the vibration continued ceaselessly.
Over the growing numbness, she felt something build up inside her. Nicole used her other hand to pull her T-shirt off her body and hold it against the tip as she finally reached her climax, depositing her seed into the shirt.
With her last bit of strength sapped, the controller slid from her hand and to the hardwood floor with enough force for the batteries to be knocked loose. The game politely asked her to re-connect Player 1's controller, but it was too late. She was asleep, still weakly clutching her come-soaked shirt.
---
Luckily, Nicole woke up before Veronica got home, so she could be rid of the 'used' shirt and clean herself up a bit in preparation for her return. As Veronica got home, Nicole was in a black T-shirt and jeans. Compared to her fashion choices from the last week, it looked like a prom dress.
Veronica changed out of her office togs and into something more appropriate, a red dress with bare shoulders, sleeves that reached the middle of her forearms, and semisheer accents on the decolettage. She looked great, of course, but Veronica was the kind of effortless sexy that was evident even in a winter coat and tuque.
They took a taxi into the city. It was better than driving and parking somewhere dubiously legal and praying all night that they wouldn't get broken into or towed. The inside of the bar had the dim lighting and brick walls of any good speakeasy. The bar itself was a huge square with a smaller square inside that several people in black clothing and aprons mixed drinks, shook shakers over their shoulders, and jabbed at huge ice cubes with picks in a way that looked therapeutic.
There was something that Nicole didn't expect after they'd already entered the door and paid the cover: a line. There were people sat at the bar, even some being served, but there was a queue leading up to the front of the bar.
"What's this about?" Nicole asked.
"This is Cocktail. It's one of those menuless bars. You go up to the bartender and tell them about yourself, and they then make a drink specifically formed for your personality."
Nicole didn't look impressed. "That seems silly."
"Hey, it's hard to get on the list to even get in here. That's the only reason I didn't take you sooner."
After ten minutes, they reached the front of the bar. The main mixologist was a shockingly beautiful woman, tall and statuesque, with dark wavy hair, full eyelashes and black lipstick, packed into a tight black latex top and skirt, fishnets on her arms and legs. She was so fair, she almost looked like a black-and-white photograph.
"Welcome to Cocktail. I'm Karina." She beamed. "What could you tell me about yourself?"
Veronica went first, describing herself in rather embarrassing detail, the way a movie gushes about its virtues on the back of the case. Maybe the praise was true, but even for a great movie, to describe one's virtues in such a way just felt undignified.
Somehow, Karina took this data and returned with a cocktail, red fluid floating temporarily above some clear alcohol, streaks drifting down like blood spilled into water. A single cherry sat at the bottom of the martini glass like a stone.
"I'll find us a seat." Veronica took her drink and disappeared.
