“Four-fifty!!” I screamed over the loud bass and cat calls.
“How about you suck my cock too? How much extra would that be??” The bearded, inebriated swollen face of yet another fucking loser who somehow thought he had a wicked sense of humor smiled his four good teeth back at me.
“OH!!! Wow! Yeah, well, that would cost you your dick. ‘Cause, last guy that tempted me with an offer like that went home with his cock in a pickle jar. Four-fifty .”
He threw a nasty, wet five dollar bill across the beer drenched counter giving me his best drunken bad ass glare.
“Bitch.”
“Fucktard.”
I gave him my most heart felt smile as he stumbled back to his table of other toothless wonders screaming and waving dollar bills at Renee and Vanessa as they gyrated and bent over in their 7” platform black leather boots.
One thing that has become so clear to me over the years working in this shit hole, is you are always a bitch once you tell a guy you won’t suck his cock. It’s like magic. One second you’re the answer to their prayers, the next, you’re the foulest cunt that ever walked the face of the earth. Just one of the deep revolutionary lessons I’ve learned at Diamond Rocks.
“Jesus. What the fuck now.” The same human waste was bolstered back to the bar by his screaming throng of cronies.
I leaned on the counter, trying my best to look for someone else that may need alcoholic assistance. Unfortunately, it was a slow night and there were only a couple other guys sitting at the counter and they were topped off already.
“Hey, why you gotta be such a bitch?” Romeo must have had some sort of hallucinogenic epiphany that I somehow wanted to have a conversation with him.
“Go sit down.” I glared back into his blotchy red face. Too many years, too many bottles and God knows what else has left a road map of lines and pit holes over what once could have been a human face.
“Fuck you! Get me a shot of Yager and a Bud. You gotta be nicer to the customers you know. You ain’t no beauty like them girls up there. I’m doin’ you a favor bein’ nice to you. Fat girls need love too.” The swinging pendulum of his tone went from fighting mad, to somehow thinking I needed his advise, to some odd joke-between-friends smile.
Another lesson you learn doing this job in this place, is don’t ever, ever try to reason with fucks like this. Their lives are so far gone, nothing they say effects me anymore. And, what they don’t know, is I may just be the chubby girl behind the bar, but I’ve got some stones.
“Go sit the fuck down or you’re out.” My tank top barely covered my more than ample, real, DDD’s as I leaned over the bar to give him my clearest intonation.
“I need a drink. I wanna Yager and a Bud. Get me a drink bitch.” He slammed his sausage shaped fingers down on the bar, leaning into me and I could smell the quintessential sour, vile, cigarette, drunk-with-rotten-teeth odor that came off so many of these fucking losers. This fucker was just too dumb and nasty to live.
“SIT YOUR ASS DOWN. NO MORE DRINKS.” The music was pounding, but I knew he could hear me just fine. I used my clearest tone, practiced for years on the lowest of life forms that pushed my buttons in this place.
“YOU GO FUCK YOU SELF! I’M THE CUSMER! GET ME FU’KN DRINK!”
Jesse was already watching, I knew it. And before the man of my dreams at the bar could steal my heart away, a giant wall of meat was standing next to him as I gave him my sweetest schoolgirl smile.
“ Too bad . Time to go.” I tipped my head to the side and gave a little pout as the slow realization came over the drunk that I wasn’t on my own.
“Come on. Time to go.” Jesse stood 6’6” of rock solid, ex-Green Beret bad ass. Unflappable and intimidating not just in form, but in presence and demeanor. But, you add in the wonders of alcohol and some guys had a little too much beer bravery to know when to turn tail and run.
“Get
“How about you suck my cock too? How much extra would that be??” The bearded, inebriated swollen face of yet another fucking loser who somehow thought he had a wicked sense of humor smiled his four good teeth back at me.
“OH!!! Wow! Yeah, well, that would cost you your dick. ‘Cause, last guy that tempted me with an offer like that went home with his cock in a pickle jar. Four-fifty .”
He threw a nasty, wet five dollar bill across the beer drenched counter giving me his best drunken bad ass glare.
“Bitch.”
“Fucktard.”
I gave him my most heart felt smile as he stumbled back to his table of other toothless wonders screaming and waving dollar bills at Renee and Vanessa as they gyrated and bent over in their 7” platform black leather boots.
One thing that has become so clear to me over the years working in this shit hole, is you are always a bitch once you tell a guy you won’t suck his cock. It’s like magic. One second you’re the answer to their prayers, the next, you’re the foulest cunt that ever walked the face of the earth. Just one of the deep revolutionary lessons I’ve learned at Diamond Rocks.
“Jesus. What the fuck now.” The same human waste was bolstered back to the bar by his screaming throng of cronies.
I leaned on the counter, trying my best to look for someone else that may need alcoholic assistance. Unfortunately, it was a slow night and there were only a couple other guys sitting at the counter and they were topped off already.
“Hey, why you gotta be such a bitch?” Romeo must have had some sort of hallucinogenic epiphany that I somehow wanted to have a conversation with him.
“Go sit down.” I glared back into his blotchy red face. Too many years, too many bottles and God knows what else has left a road map of lines and pit holes over what once could have been a human face.
“Fuck you! Get me a shot of Yager and a Bud. You gotta be nicer to the customers you know. You ain’t no beauty like them girls up there. I’m doin’ you a favor bein’ nice to you. Fat girls need love too.” The swinging pendulum of his tone went from fighting mad, to somehow thinking I needed his advise, to some odd joke-between-friends smile.
Another lesson you learn doing this job in this place, is don’t ever, ever try to reason with fucks like this. Their lives are so far gone, nothing they say effects me anymore. And, what they don’t know, is I may just be the chubby girl behind the bar, but I’ve got some stones.
“Go sit the fuck down or you’re out.” My tank top barely covered my more than ample, real, DDD’s as I leaned over the bar to give him my clearest intonation.
“I need a drink. I wanna Yager and a Bud. Get me a drink bitch.” He slammed his sausage shaped fingers down on the bar, leaning into me and I could smell the quintessential sour, vile, cigarette, drunk-with-rotten-teeth odor that came off so many of these fucking losers. This fucker was just too dumb and nasty to live.
“SIT YOUR ASS DOWN. NO MORE DRINKS.” The music was pounding, but I knew he could hear me just fine. I used my clearest tone, practiced for years on the lowest of life forms that pushed my buttons in this place.
“YOU GO FUCK YOU SELF! I’M THE CUSMER! GET ME FU’KN DRINK!”
Jesse was already watching, I knew it. And before the man of my dreams at the bar could steal my heart away, a giant wall of meat was standing next to him as I gave him my sweetest schoolgirl smile.
“ Too bad . Time to go.” I tipped my head to the side and gave a little pout as the slow realization came over the drunk that I wasn’t on my own.
“Come on. Time to go.” Jesse stood 6’6” of rock solid, ex-Green Beret bad ass. Unflappable and intimidating not just in form, but in presence and demeanor. But, you add in the wonders of alcohol and some guys had a little too much beer bravery to know when to turn tail and run.
“Get
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