Page 47 of Hits Different

“In my defence”, he crosses his thick arms. “I said that before your buddy told me about your ball control skills”.

* * * *

Two hours later, I have learnt his name is Jacob. He’s a bartender by night, PhD student by day. He lives with his parents whilst he’s in school and was last in a serious relationship three years ago. He’s bartending to cover his tuition and is in charge of testing out a new range of non-alcoholic tequilas.

If he recognises my surname, he doesn’t show it, which is why I agreed to help him. That, and the way he looks at me.

“Holy fuckballs”, I pull a face, “This one is like paint stripper”.

“It’s supposed to taste like aburst of pure refreshment, akin to standing under a waterfall on a scorching summer’s day”. Jacob frowns at the bottle, “Where do they come up with this shit?”

There’s a crackle of radio feedback from his waist. “It’s to keep in touch with the other bars”, he explains. “Just in-case of underage drinking, or any trouble”.

It’s getting louder in here by the minute. Reminds me of the bars in college. Rowdy, messy and anonymous. Just how I like it.

“Good to know”, I reach for his sharpie. “A burst of liquid napalm, akin to standing inside a nuclear reactor that’s failed its safety inspection”. I hand it over, “Fixed it for you”.

Our hands graze as he takes it from me. Something flickers deep inside, in a way that’s usually reserved for only one person. “What time do you get off?”

Jacob glances over his shoulder, then leans in close. “I don’t get off until you do”.

Suddenly the music feels louder. Jacob’s still holding the bottle. “These are very popular, normally. Maybe you’re not taking it right”.

“Is there really a way to take a shot wrong?”

****

Jacob gets one of the waiters to watch the bar and leads me into a side room.

He has a salt rim shaker with him, and he sprinkles it lightly onto his neck. He cups the back of my head with his big, strong hands, and gently moves my lips towards the salt.

“Now the shot”. He uncaps one of the bottles, and lightly drips it down his chest. I catch it with my tongue, settling into the groove between his chest muscles. His hands grope my ass, and I work my lips back up.

There’s a lemon wedge on the tray that I take between my thumb and forefinger, and slide into my mouth.

His eyes widen, and fuck it, I’m hard now.

“My turn”, he whispers. I settle against the wall, closing my eyes as he unbuckles my belt roughly without breaking eye contact. My breath catches as he works me, up and down, before expertly taking me in his mouth, using his hands to hold me steady. He’s relentless, and it’s not long before I’m choking out an orgasm.

He rises to his feet, kisses me again. “What did I say about you getting off first?”, he murmurs seductively in my ear. I’m about to return the favour when his radio crackles again.

We might have a problem over here.

“Ignore it”, Jacob breathes.

Can we get some additional security on Main Street?

“Fuck”, he mutters, buttoning his shirt back up. “Where to?”

Carlucci’s.

Carlucci’s. Parker.

I’m out of the door before Jacob’s even zipped up his pants. Carlucci’s is two streets over. I race across the road without looking. A taxi skids to a halt in-front of me. The driver bangs his fist angrily on the wheel. I keep going, wrenching the door to Carlucci’s open and diving inside.

Two very distinctive crowds have formed. A handful of guys, maybe early thirties, have gathered with pool cues. They’re jawing with some younger guys. My heart stops. Parker is right there in the middle of it. Archie and Will are nowhere in sight.

“Boys”. A man behind the bar motions to the two bouncers, “Kick ‘em out of here”.

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