Victoria Ashley - Slade

I’m listening . . .

Reaching for a bottle of Jack, I pour it half way up and add a splash of coke and a little lime juice. It may be a little strong, but she looks like she can handle it. She looks like she can handle a lot of things.

Setting the drink down in front of her, I lean over the bar as she reaches for my shirt and pulls me to her. “I’ve heard a lot of good things about your dick . I need to release some tension and I want you to fuck me. Can you do that? Nothing more. I’m a very busy woman.”

I let my lips brush over her ear before whispering, “For the things I do, you would need a lot more than just a little time.” I place my hand behind her neck and pull her closer to my lips. “I would tie you up to my bed, blindfold you and devour your pussy with my tongue. Then when I was done, I would stand you up against my wall, bind your hands above you and fuck you until you can’t walk. I would tease you slowly at first to learn your body and what it wants. Then I would fuck you so hard and thoroughly you will never want another cock. I don’t think that is what you’re looking for. Trust me, it’s not easy moving on to just a quick lay after that.”

A throat clears from nearby.

“I see you’re still on the prowl, son.”

Gritting my teeth, I pull away from the redhead and bring my eyes up to meet the one man I wish I could stay away from: my father. He’s more like the devil in a fucking suit. He’s standing there as if he’s so fucking perfect and can’t do any wrong. It pisses me the fuck off.

“What are you doing here?” I begin finding things to do; pretending to be busy. The last thing I want to do is deal with him at the moment.

Stepping up to the bar, he fixes his tie and takes a seat. “Do I need to have a reason to come see my son? We haven’t spoken in over two months.”

Walking over to stand in front of him, I lean down and get in his face. “We both know why too. Don’t come in here acting as if it’s my fault. Get out of here with that shit.”

“Son, calm down.” Pulling out his wallet he searches through it. “I’ll take a Scotch on the rocks.”

Rolling my neck to keep my tongue in check, I make him his fucking drink. I set it down in front of him and lean against the register while watching him sip on it.

He makes a sour face while setting the glass back down. “I see not much has changed since the last time we’ve talked.” I watch him with anger while he adjusts his tie as if he’s better than me. “When will you realize this lifestyle isn’t going to change anything? It won’t make things better.”

Gripping the counter, I lean over the register and turn my head away. I can’t stand to look at him. “Don’t you fucking say it. I don’t need to hear this shit. I’m fine with my life. Why don’t you get back to yours and stop worrying about mine? Don’t fucking judge me.”

We both look over as the redhead slams back her drink and stands up. “I’m out, boys.” She looks at me and winks. “Maybe another time.”

I don’t say anything. I just watch as she leaves. I’m glad, because she doesn’t need to hear this.

“You don’t think I’m concerned about my son? That I don’t see that you’ve thrown your life down the drain? It pisses me off.” He takes another sip and then scoots it across the bar. “You’re better than this. Just because-”

“Don’t you fucking say it,” I growl out at him in warning and shake the counter.

“I’m just telling you that there’s still meaning in your life and you need to find that again. The pain will never go away. I get that but-”

“Fucking stop! Do you understand me?” My voice comes out firmly. “Don’t you say another fucking word about it. It’s done. Over. I’ve moved on.”

Looking me in the eyes, he stands up and picks up his glass for me to see. “This is what you call moving on? A career as a bartender that strips on the weekends and has meaningless sex with any tramp you can slip your dick into. No, son. This is not moving on. It’s fucking numbing the pain.”

Grinding my jaw, I swing my hand across the counter, knocking over the bottle of Scotch along with a bunch of other items like limes, straws, and cocktail napkins. “You just don’t know when to stop, do you? This is why we don’t talk. This is why I stay away. You won’t let me live.”

Turning to leave, he stops and throws down some money. “No, I’m trying to help you live and stop being a piece of shit. Get your shit together before it’s too late. You’re twenty six years old for fucks sake. Act like it.”

I hear him walking away, but I refuse to look his direction and show him just how worked up I am. He always fucking does this; acts as if he knows what I’m going through or how the fuck I feel and should feel. No one does.

Fighting to catch my breath and calm down, I lean over the bar and grip the front of my hair in my hands. I feel like going fucking mad right now. Today is not a good day to think about this shit.

I’m pissed. Pissed at my father and pissed at myself for knowing he’s right.

Picking up a bottle of Vodka, I toss it across the room at the wall. It shatters against the wall, leaving the clear liquid dripping on the floor. It doesn’t do shit to calm me down though. So, I just stand there and stare at the ceiling.

“Well . . . I see it’s extremely busy in here today.”

I look over with narrowed eyes to see Aspen walk in. She’s no longer wearing her clothes from yesterday. Now, she’s wearing a pair of faded jean shorts and a white tank top that shows the pink outline of her bra. She must’ve had her clothes in Kayla’s car. She looks . . . good. This look fits her.

Exhaling, I stand up straight and gesture around me. “Yeah, really fucking busy. I hope you’re not here for a drink because I might not be able to handle making you one,” I say sarcastically.

She leans against the front of the bar and starts fingering the remaining napkins. “I’m here because Kayla had to go to work and Cale isn’t home. I don’t have a key to get in and he didn’t pick up the phone.” She looks down at the mess by my feet and then looks up at me. “I suppose you could use a little company anyways.”

“I guess,” I mumble. “Doesn’t look like I have much of a choice.” I reach for a glass and scoop it full of ice. “Want a drink?”

“Just a Sprite will be fine. I only drink when I’m out at parties. It’s kind of my thing. I’m a lightweight.”

I watch her as she sits down in front of me and chews on her lip. “Are you nervous?” I study her reaction to the question that is making her cheeks turn red.

Shaking her head, she reaches for the glass after I finish filling it and pulls it to her lips. “Why would I be nervous? You think you make me nervous? No. You just make me mad. Those are two different things.”

Nodding my head in agreement, I say, “You’re not the only fucking one.”

I’m used to it. Hell, I’m pissed at myself most of the time.

She laughs under her breath and sticks the tip of the straw into her mouth. “I bet there are a lot of pissed off women running around this world due to you. I just get that vibe.”

Challenging her, I lean over the bar and pull the straw out of her mouth with my tongue, being sure to get close to her mouth. “Oh yeah,” I whisper. “What kind of vibe is it that you get from me?”

Backing away, she watches my mouth as I chew on her straw. She clears her throat and averts her eyes when she sees that I notice her staring. “A bad one,” she replies.

I stand up and spit out the straw when I see Cale walk in. “Dude, what are you doing here?” For some reason the thought of him being here to pick Aspen up pisses me off.