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My mind focuses back on last night as I increase the incline on the treadmill. I wish I could define whatever it is between us. It’s not quite no-strings and not quite dating. It’s an odd concept, hanging suspended in limbo. I wish I could put my finger on it. I wish I could figure out what makes a few strings with Tyler okay despite the obvious risks.
A sex addict and a love addict together is a preposterous idea. It’s pure stupidity. Idiocy. Fucked up.
It can only end in one way—and I’m not talking about an orgasm. Heartbreak.
I told Tyler that I’m trusting him. If only I knew what I was trusting him with. My heart? My body? My desires?
I know the last two are definitely true. I trust him with my body and my desires. I trust him to not abuse them, but instead to take them and spin them into pleasure. And he is sure as hell doing that.
In the several times we’ve been together now, we’ve only stretched the boundaries once. Both of us, I know, have more things we want to try. Both of us have ideas and dreams and wishes for what we can do…together.
Just like he said, we’re perfect together in the bedroom. We’re magic, completely in tune.
The music in my ears switches to my alarm and I slow my speed until I stop. I have no time to shower, so back in the dressing room, I douse myself in spray and dig my work clothes out from my bag. Black skinny jeans and a long-sleeved shirt—with a low neckline.
I squirm into the clothes and drive toward the bar. I glance through the back window, and it’s completely dead. I’m supposed to finish at nine tonight, and my body tingles just thinking about it.
I join Rosie at the bar. She’s on the long shift today, starting at one and finishing at midnight. I look around the nearly dead bar and raise my eyebrows.
“Really? They need two of us for this?”
“Right?” she replies, sighing. “This is going to be a boring shift.”
We spoke too soon.
Our first few hours were quiet. It picked up a bit around dinner but then dropped off. We thought we were getting it easy until bam. A fifty-strong bachelorette party strolled through the door. Since then, a twenty-strong bachelor party has joined them. Not connected—we checked.
They’re splitting their time between us and the cocktail bar upstairs. Unfortunately, they seem to like the louder music and space to dance down here because they’re drinking us out of white wine.
I pour four glasses and add them to the tab before I turn and pour three beers straight off. Rosie is the same at the other end. Both parties have mixed and no one seems to care anymore. In fact, I think a bridesmaid and an usher are making out in the corner.
I wipe the back of my hand across my forehead, and Rosie joins me at the register. “Liv, can you stay?” she asks. “I hate to do this, but I can’t handle this by myself. Donny won’t be here until eleven.”
“Of course. I’m not leaving you with these guys.” I turn and see two of the bachelorette party bitching at each other—heatedly. Jesus, nine p.m. and it’s started already. “Hey! Hey!”
They ignore me, so I put my fingers in my mouth and whistle. They stop and look at me, as do a few other people.
“If you’re gonna do that, take it outside!” I yell over the music, pointing to the door.
They seem to consider it for a moment before shrugging it off and walking in opposite directions. I pour a round of tequila shots, complete with lime and salt, and finally have five seconds to breathe.
A pee would be great though.
“It’s mental in here.”
I turn in the direction of Tyler’s voice and smile. “I have to stay on for two hours. I’m sorry.”
“No worries. Want me to go or wait here?”
“You can go if you want. It’s kind of crazy in here.”
“I’ll wait.” He winks.
I’m being yelled at for another beer, so I hold a finger up. “I’ll get you a drink as soon as I have a second. I promise.” I run to the middle of the bar and pour two pints simultaneously.
This continues all night. It takes me half an hour to get Tyler his drink, and the next one and a half are spent getting blisters from my flat shoes.
Fantastic. I should send Donny the bill for my Band-Aids.
