I might have to take her home with me.”
I stare blankly at him, hoping he’s kidding and will take it back. He doesn’t. “You will not take Samantha home. You will find a girl on your own tonight. Do you care so little about the women you sleep with that you don’t even mind who brings them to you? You know women aren’t delivered to you on a silver platter, right? You have to want them too.”
He looks bored suddenly. “I will never want them for anything but this,” he answers, grabbing his manhood in his fist again. “That’s all they’re good for, anyway.”
I feel like he slapped me. I’m not in the sea of women Kent will pick from, but I am a woman, and we are good for far more than just sex.
“You’re a disgusting pig.” I shove past him.
“Wait,” he demands.
“What, Kent?”
“Let’s have a shot. On me.” He puts his hands in his pockets and looks down at me. I can sense something brewing in him. It feels like anger, but there’s a subtle dark edge to it that could hint at more. “Since I’m a disgusting pig.”
“I call it like I see it. I can’t drink at work. I’ll lose my job. Go have fun. I’ll be back in thirty minutes after my lunch.”
He grabs my hand when I try and leave a second time and bends down to put his mouth over my ear so I hear him over the music. “You need to lighten up. I warned you not to interfere with my life. You don’t see anything. We don’t even know each other.”
I look into his eyes and feel the darkness brewing inside of him. I sense what he’s feeling has nothing to do with me and decide to ease up. It’s not like he owes me anything. “You’re right. We don’t know each other. Although it’s kind of hard to know you when you’re balls-deep in pussy all the time.”
He grins at me. It’s a wide, salacious, humorous grin. All over me likes it. “I am, aren’t I?”
I attempt not to laugh, fail, and then suddenly we are both laughing and five minutes of my lunch is gone. “You’re ridiculous. I’ve gotta go.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow. Be safe tonight.”
His well wishes ruin the good mood between us. I know why he’ll be busy tonight. I know exactly who Kent is going to do. “I will. Bye, Kent.”
The remainder of my lunch and most of my work shift is spent spying on Samantha and Kent. Every time she passes his table his eyes devour her. I wonder if I should warn her. It’s fairly obvious Kent doesn’t want to marry her. He wants her naked, on her back, and under his rule. If she can’t see that then she doesn’t want to.
After eleven, Oblivion becomes the epitome of insanity. It is men and alcohol, dancing and curves, loud music and spilled beer. Men touch my waist, whisper orders in my ear, and hold my hand like it’s theirs to hold. The only consolation is that Kent leaves a little after midnight. I can relax when he’s not around. The bad part is Samantha clocks out early and leaves with him.
The rest of my shift is a long, loud, confusing blur. By two thirty the bouncers start ushering people out. By three Wayne turns the music off. The tips are divided and I’m so damn tired I don’t even count my share. I shove it in my purse and leave out the back. My feet drag to my car. I can’t wait to go home, take my uniform off, and crawl into bed. I smell like beer and chicken wings. There’s even a smear of wing sauce on my waist where some touchy-feely customer grabbed me to get my attention.
What is it with men and grabbing? They think because they have a penis they can grab us whenever they want? Like Kent taking my hand to pull me back for no good reason. Or that customer who ‘accidentally’ touched my ass when he was reaching for a towel in my back pocket to clean up some spilled drinks. Men are dogs. That’s why I stay away from them. All men are like my father. Loose, unappreciative, irresponsible manwhores who suck the life out of me. There’s that saying that women end up marrying their fathers. I refuse to end up with mine. I promised myself to do the opposite. I will marry someone committed,