08-18-2014, 10:46 AM
Continued from A Date...Maybe?
((Closed for now))
Calvin entered the bar. It had been a bad day to say the least. Things had started to look up between him and Sierra, only to be smashed to bits at the end. Snow was dead and something happened to Calvin. All the anger inside – anger at the injustice of it all and anger at himself for being too weak to help – had caused something to snap. A darkness had settled over him.
Calvin had tried to administer justice. He sought out the man responsible for Snow’s death, hoping to make things right with Sierra. He had even caught up with the man, but the wolf in him had calmed down. He was Calvin Johnson, and Calvin Johnson couldn’t kill. He left the man’s residence and sought out Dawn Wind. The wolf responded but was furious with him. It seemed like even the wolves were going to abandon him.
The bar was nice, but not the best in the city. He avoided Chesterfield’s on the chance that Connor or Ayden would see him. He didn’t want company. He wanted to be with himself…and with whiskey. Calvin had removed his contacts and he glared at people as he passed. It was clear he wanted to be left alone and others found his golden eyes intimidating. They gave him a wide berth as he made his way to the bar.
The bartender approached and before he could ask Calvin ordered. “Whiskey – and leave the bottle.”
The bartender frowned at Calvin but did as requested. Calvin took a shot and refilled his glass, downing that one as well. People left him be as he sat nursing his drink. He kept silent and kept thinking about his worthlessness. He was helpless and a burden to anyone he came across. At least he had whiskey.
The drink began to affect him. He could feel it, but kept drinking. The bottle was full when he had ordered it, but it was now about halfway done. A woman approached and sat down on the stool next to him. She had likely arrived after he had because she had approached him when others gave him a wide berth. Calvin didn’t look at her or acknowledge her presence.
“Hi”
the woman said, sounding quite cheerful – a little too cheerful for Calvin’s taste.
“Go away,”
Calvin said, taking another drink. He didn’t look up at the woman; he instead kept his eyes focused on the label of the whiskey bottle.
The woman paused for a minute before replying, “It just looks like you could use some company. Can’t I just talk to you?”
Calvin almost growled. She was the type that “wanted to help” him and probably wouldn’t go away. “Fine,”
he said with some contempt in his voice.
“What’s wrong, honey,”
she asked sounding concerned.
“None of your damn business,”
Calvin said, still not looking up.
The woman sighed, “You’re kind of cute. Bet you’d be cuter if you smiled.”
That caused Calvin to look up at her. She was – well – quite attractive and also dressed quite provocatively. What little she did wear shouldn’t have actually counted as an outfit, and Calvin’s imagination, feeling quite drunk, went wild with what she might look like underneath. Had he been sober and thinking clearly, he would have realized she was a prostitute.
She had shoulder length blonde hair and was smiling at him. Calvin turned back to his drink and finding his glass empty, filled it again. “I don’t have much to smile about.”
The bartender was watching the exchange, frowning, but didn’t say anything. “There’s always something to smile about. I’ll be right back ok?”
The woman stood and went behind him and paused. She kissed him on the cheek and whispered in his ear. “Stay here, ok? I’ll be back soon.”
The kiss burned on his cheek and brought images to his mind that would have been unwelcome sober, but in his drunken state he savored them, but even still he couldn’t go against himself. He couldn’t take advantage of this woman for his own pleasure.
The bartender finally spoke bringing Calvin out of his thoughts, “You know she’s a hooker right? She just wants your money.”
It took a minute for the words to register in Calvin’s mind. She was a prostitute? That changed things – there was no way he’d fall for that.
Calvin didn’t answer the bartender. Instead he reached for the bottle to refill his glass again, but almost fell off the stool.
“That’s it, I’m pulling the plug on you man,”
the bartender reached for the whiskey bottle, but Calvin grabbed it first and growled. The bartender stepped back and prepared to call the bouncer.
“It’s ok,”
the woman said returning. “I’ll take care of our friend here. He’s had a rough day. Let me help him.”
The bartender raised his hand – a gesture that seemed to say “I’m washing my hands of this matter” and turned to help other customers.
Calvin could smell her perfume – his heightened sense of smell unaltered by the alcohol. Calvin began to speak to tell her that he wasn’t interested, but she spoke first.
“You know now. It’s my job to help people like you – to make the pain go away – to make you feel good.”
She began massaging his shoulders, her hands moving down his arms and over his chest. “Let me help you. Let me make you smile.”
Her hands went down his stomach and she touched his leg as she kissed his cheek once more. His brain began to rationalize it. She could help him feel better. She could make him smile – and he wouldn’t be taking advantage of her; it was nothing but business to her. Part of him argued against this, but the alcohol was louder – the depression and booze overriding the part of him that said that this was a bad decision.
Calvin pulled out his wallet and dropped several bills on the counter, “Will that be enough for the bottle?”
the bartender grimaced at the amount of bills, but nodded.
Calvin dropped a few more bills and the bartender’s tension lessened. Calvin picked up the bottle of whiskey and the woman took his empty hand and led him out.
Edited by Calvin, Aug 19 2014, 11:41 AM.
((Closed for now))
Calvin entered the bar. It had been a bad day to say the least. Things had started to look up between him and Sierra, only to be smashed to bits at the end. Snow was dead and something happened to Calvin. All the anger inside – anger at the injustice of it all and anger at himself for being too weak to help – had caused something to snap. A darkness had settled over him.
Calvin had tried to administer justice. He sought out the man responsible for Snow’s death, hoping to make things right with Sierra. He had even caught up with the man, but the wolf in him had calmed down. He was Calvin Johnson, and Calvin Johnson couldn’t kill. He left the man’s residence and sought out Dawn Wind. The wolf responded but was furious with him. It seemed like even the wolves were going to abandon him.
The bar was nice, but not the best in the city. He avoided Chesterfield’s on the chance that Connor or Ayden would see him. He didn’t want company. He wanted to be with himself…and with whiskey. Calvin had removed his contacts and he glared at people as he passed. It was clear he wanted to be left alone and others found his golden eyes intimidating. They gave him a wide berth as he made his way to the bar.
The bartender approached and before he could ask Calvin ordered. “Whiskey – and leave the bottle.”
The bartender frowned at Calvin but did as requested. Calvin took a shot and refilled his glass, downing that one as well. People left him be as he sat nursing his drink. He kept silent and kept thinking about his worthlessness. He was helpless and a burden to anyone he came across. At least he had whiskey.
The drink began to affect him. He could feel it, but kept drinking. The bottle was full when he had ordered it, but it was now about halfway done. A woman approached and sat down on the stool next to him. She had likely arrived after he had because she had approached him when others gave him a wide berth. Calvin didn’t look at her or acknowledge her presence.
“Hi”
the woman said, sounding quite cheerful – a little too cheerful for Calvin’s taste.
“Go away,”
Calvin said, taking another drink. He didn’t look up at the woman; he instead kept his eyes focused on the label of the whiskey bottle.
The woman paused for a minute before replying, “It just looks like you could use some company. Can’t I just talk to you?”
Calvin almost growled. She was the type that “wanted to help” him and probably wouldn’t go away. “Fine,”
he said with some contempt in his voice.
“What’s wrong, honey,”
she asked sounding concerned.
“None of your damn business,”
Calvin said, still not looking up.
The woman sighed, “You’re kind of cute. Bet you’d be cuter if you smiled.”
That caused Calvin to look up at her. She was – well – quite attractive and also dressed quite provocatively. What little she did wear shouldn’t have actually counted as an outfit, and Calvin’s imagination, feeling quite drunk, went wild with what she might look like underneath. Had he been sober and thinking clearly, he would have realized she was a prostitute.
She had shoulder length blonde hair and was smiling at him. Calvin turned back to his drink and finding his glass empty, filled it again. “I don’t have much to smile about.”
The bartender was watching the exchange, frowning, but didn’t say anything. “There’s always something to smile about. I’ll be right back ok?”
The woman stood and went behind him and paused. She kissed him on the cheek and whispered in his ear. “Stay here, ok? I’ll be back soon.”
The kiss burned on his cheek and brought images to his mind that would have been unwelcome sober, but in his drunken state he savored them, but even still he couldn’t go against himself. He couldn’t take advantage of this woman for his own pleasure.
The bartender finally spoke bringing Calvin out of his thoughts, “You know she’s a hooker right? She just wants your money.”
It took a minute for the words to register in Calvin’s mind. She was a prostitute? That changed things – there was no way he’d fall for that.
Calvin didn’t answer the bartender. Instead he reached for the bottle to refill his glass again, but almost fell off the stool.
“That’s it, I’m pulling the plug on you man,”
the bartender reached for the whiskey bottle, but Calvin grabbed it first and growled. The bartender stepped back and prepared to call the bouncer.
“It’s ok,”
the woman said returning. “I’ll take care of our friend here. He’s had a rough day. Let me help him.”
The bartender raised his hand – a gesture that seemed to say “I’m washing my hands of this matter” and turned to help other customers.
Calvin could smell her perfume – his heightened sense of smell unaltered by the alcohol. Calvin began to speak to tell her that he wasn’t interested, but she spoke first.
“You know now. It’s my job to help people like you – to make the pain go away – to make you feel good.”
She began massaging his shoulders, her hands moving down his arms and over his chest. “Let me help you. Let me make you smile.”
Her hands went down his stomach and she touched his leg as she kissed his cheek once more. His brain began to rationalize it. She could help him feel better. She could make him smile – and he wouldn’t be taking advantage of her; it was nothing but business to her. Part of him argued against this, but the alcohol was louder – the depression and booze overriding the part of him that said that this was a bad decision.
Calvin pulled out his wallet and dropped several bills on the counter, “Will that be enough for the bottle?”
the bartender grimaced at the amount of bills, but nodded.
Calvin dropped a few more bills and the bartender’s tension lessened. Calvin picked up the bottle of whiskey and the woman took his empty hand and led him out.
Edited by Calvin, Aug 19 2014, 11:41 AM.