We drink when we don’t have money so forget the fact and we waste our money on drinking so that when we actually have no money our hangover will last until we get the money and we start all over again.
Men look at underage girls who sneaked in and a few who just had their birthdays and the stage smoke fills the bar from the cheesy dance floor where people are so drunk they just stand there and I keep ordering from a bartender who could be one of the underaged girls’ boyfriend or school shag.
He doesn’t say anything today or tomorrow and just keeps pouring until people run out of money and I gulp my third shot down, asking him to give me whatever he wants and I reckon he’ll give me something expensive but instead I get something with coke or rather pepsi as I see and I just press my head against the counter and he tells me to stand up and he works for the rest of the night.
I wake up as he tells me to leave and I stare into his eyes and his new haircut and the empty bar as he most likely will hurl me but instead he gets me water and coffee and doesn’t ask me to pay as long as I leave. I take the water bottle and as I vomit on the street I loose the coffee, walking in the middle of the road, this part of the country closed with the people’s eyes so I just twirl, opening the water bottle and splashing over my head, knowing that tomorrow will be a sick day, because I have no money and I can’t stand it, because my lipstick is half done and it’s left on all the glasses.
Home is too empty with food for the morning and to be bought in the afternoon and dinner becomes alcohol with one cigarette, two are too expensive to afford unless asked from some cheeky guy in the bar or once the bartender gave me a box and I wanted to kiss him, but I didn’t.
I come back before pay day and he doesn’t give me a drink for free, but I follow him into the bathroom, pressing him against the wall.
I look at his name tag.
Jamie.
“Jamie, give me a fucking drink.” And I thrust my tongue into the teenager’s mouth and most likely he’s still a virgin with his messy hands and maneuvers and how he just lifts my shirt up and
I could be a prostitute, but then in my eyes you have to be beautiful to sell even if men like skinny grown women sometimes and I could sell.
He likes my breasts down until he goes inside me.
He’s not too good, so I switch and I make us both orgasm.
Jamie doesn’t get me drink, instead I get kicked out on the street to walk in the middle with a cigarette I had gotten from a girl as I left with an old lighter.
Men look at underage girls who sneaked in and a few who just had their birthdays and the stage smoke fills the bar from the cheesy dance floor where people are so drunk they just stand there and I keep ordering from a bartender who could be one of the underaged girls’ boyfriend or school shag.
He doesn’t say anything today or tomorrow and just keeps pouring until people run out of money and I gulp my third shot down, asking him to give me whatever he wants and I reckon he’ll give me something expensive but instead I get something with coke or rather pepsi as I see and I just press my head against the counter and he tells me to stand up and he works for the rest of the night.
I wake up as he tells me to leave and I stare into his eyes and his new haircut and the empty bar as he most likely will hurl me but instead he gets me water and coffee and doesn’t ask me to pay as long as I leave. I take the water bottle and as I vomit on the street I loose the coffee, walking in the middle of the road, this part of the country closed with the people’s eyes so I just twirl, opening the water bottle and splashing over my head, knowing that tomorrow will be a sick day, because I have no money and I can’t stand it, because my lipstick is half done and it’s left on all the glasses.
Home is too empty with food for the morning and to be bought in the afternoon and dinner becomes alcohol with one cigarette, two are too expensive to afford unless asked from some cheeky guy in the bar or once the bartender gave me a box and I wanted to kiss him, but I didn’t.
I come back before pay day and he doesn’t give me a drink for free, but I follow him into the bathroom, pressing him against the wall.
I look at his name tag.
Jamie.
“Jamie, give me a fucking drink.” And I thrust my tongue into the teenager’s mouth and most likely he’s still a virgin with his messy hands and maneuvers and how he just lifts my shirt up and
I could be a prostitute, but then in my eyes you have to be beautiful to sell even if men like skinny grown women sometimes and I could sell.
He likes my breasts down until he goes inside me.
He’s not too good, so I switch and I make us both orgasm.
Jamie doesn’t get me drink, instead I get kicked out on the street to walk in the middle with a cigarette I had gotten from a girl as I left with an old lighter.
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The title is a line from the story and I'm sorry for the delay. The next request will be up soon :3
<3
Candy Cane
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