Lawful Discretion Pt. 02

I shifted under the covers, seeing the grey light of dawn beyond the slit of my eyelids, and yawned. I wanted to sink back into a doze, but the sensation of my bladder approaching critical was enough to temporarily rouse me, long enough to slouch to the toilet and back.

I glanced over at the slumbering figure next to me, eyes closed, face calm and composed...god, he didn't even snore, his deep, steady breathing passing silently. I sat up for a moment, admiring him, one arm thrown up to rest above his head on the pillow, the other flung over his tough, weathered body. He looked less like a professor and more like some semi-retired prizefighter at rest.

I slid gingerly to the floor, picking up my cellphone from my bedside table. I slipped on a robe, then padded out to the hall, trying not to let my bedroom door creak, and into the bathroom. First I sank onto the toilet, immediately relieving myself as I indulged in another yawn and checked my phone. 6:27, not terrible, but earlier than I'd usually rise. Nothing new in my messages or mail. I flicked down through an app lazily for a bit, watching the cat videos the algorithm by now knew me a sucker for, until I felt like my work below was done. I flushed and went to wash up, eyeing myself in the mirror. I couldn't help but smile a bit bashfully. My mascara was a mess. My lipstick was gone but for the odd smear. A thin, white streak of Stephen's contribution had dried along my left cheek. I sighed deeply, leaning on the sink as I recalled the evening. Our dinner, the rising anticipation as we returned to my apartment, and then...

I exhaled shakily, feeling my knees shake and my crotch tremble, while a small glow pulsed at the bottom of my belly. I shook my head and pushed myself to my feet, then cleaned myself up.

When I returned to the room, Stephen was sitting up in bed, the sheets over his lower body, as he perused his own phone. He yawned, stretching, and turned to give me a sleepy-eyed smile.

"Morning, you."

"Morning yourself. How'd you sleep?"

Stephen stretched again, arching his neck and grunting. "Like a baby. Thanks for putting up with me for the night."

I chuckled at that, and fought the urge to leap back under the sheets with him. I gestured towards the next room. "I um, I put out a new toothbrush if you wanted...and the wicker cabinet in there has clean towels and washcloths."

Stephen smiled, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. "I'll take the toothbrush, but I don't want to waste all your hot water. I'll be stopping home before work to change, anyways." He paused for a moment, his eyes sweeping over the floor. "Er, Jo..."

"Yep?"

"Where...have you seen my pants?"

I snorted, shaking my head slowly. "Dude, really? You're getting shy now?"

Stephen floundered for a few moments. "Well it's just--you know, the feeling of being naked at night versus in daylight--and just-like-walking around someone else's home nude-"

I chuckled and turned for the door. "I'll find your clothes. You find the bathroom."

I made my way into the living room and after a few moments collected our garments, tossed about haphazardly. I tracked down his pants first, then the underwear, then his shirt and belt. His tie took a bit longer until I realised it was trapped in the couch cushions.

I got it all piled up and carried it to the bathroom, where I could still hear the tap and the sound of brushing.

"Hey, I found your stuff. Just gonna...leave it inside, alright?"

A grunt of assent, and I turned the knob, quickly dropping the mess of clothes to the floor. I left him to finish up and headed into the kitchen, smiling at the forgotten pot of coffee. I gave it a quick touch, then scowled at its tepid temperature. Nonetheless, I poured myself a mug and popped it into the microwave for a minute. I was awake, and I wasn't going to fall back asleep at this rate.

I was sipping on the coffee when Stephen came out of the bathroom and rounded into the kitchen. We met eyes, and smiled for a moment. "How're you doin for time, champ?"

"I think I'll make it," Stephen replied, slipping on his brown oxfords. "You work today?"

"Not until muuuuch later," I yawned.

Stephen opened his mouth to respond, but paused as his phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out and gave it a look, and I saw the way his face immediately tightened up. He stared at it for all of 2 seconds, then shook his head, returning to his easy self. I caught his eye. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah...just more of the same. C'mere."

I walked over, and Stephen gently took the mug of coffee from me in one hand as he pulled me close with the other, slipping his hand beneath the robe to grip the bare skin of my lower back. He gazed down at me over the sharp, straight beak of his nose, and kissed me softly, a searching kiss, just short of passionate. He pulled away, smiling faintly. I have to hope I looked the same, or at least as dignified.

"Are you free this weekend?"

I nodded. "Yeah. Yuh huh. Or um. I mean except Friday, I work the open Friday-"

"But you'll be off by the evening."

"9 by the latest."

Stephen smiled, then lifted the mug of coffee to his lips. He took two heavy swigs, then handed it back to me. "Damn fine cup of coffee."

I watched him slip into his coat, and scoffed as I swilled about the few tablespoons worth left in the mug. "Stale and overnight? I'm beginning to question your standards."

"Question away," Stephen chuckled as he approached the door. "I normally drink instant stuff."

"Ugh." I pulled a disgusted face. "I can't believe I was gonna sleep with you."

"I can." Stephen gave me a cocky grin and a wink, and I feigned a scandalised expression. I saw an echo of the young man he had been, devastating hearts with good looks that sat as well on a boyish adolescent heartthrob as a handsome, distinguished man.

He moved to step out, and started to close the door. I'm not really sure why, but maybe it was seeing him out there in the grey air, the sun peeking over the rooftops, stepping into the cold as I stayed within, bundled up. I piped up. "Stephen!"

He turned back. "Yeah?"

"Have a good day at work, okay?"

The look he gave me was like he'd been frozen in time and set to wobble like a pendulum, still in motion but with his mind and body fully stalled. His eyes slid onto mine and I saw them almost melt for a moment before he grinned back at me. "Thanks, I will. You too, Jo."

And then he was gone, the door slapping shut after him. I finished the mouthful of coffee I was holding and set the mug aside, sighing.

May as well start making breakfast.

-------

"Are you fuckin kidding me?"

Karyn's disbelieving question hung in the tense silence of the room, but I could feel-and contribute to-a sense of assent among the staff.

We sat about the empty venue, curtains to the front windows drawn, the half dozen of us that worked front of house as well as the ten or so kitchen guys. The two general managers stood at the head of a long row of tables where the majority of us cradled our first or second drinks. With this news, there was sure to be more poured.

Laurent, a somewhat prissy francophone, pursed his lips at that. "Unfortunately no, Karyn. We are as surprised as you, it seems the owner has been struggling for some time."

"Bullshit," Karyn replied tersely. "We're the rank and file, we see the revenue in real time. Where's he losing it all?"

"That's not our business, nor is it that easy to explain," Rebecca cut in. I rolled my eyes inwardly. Even now, in the death throes, they were playing corporate tag team.

"The hell it isn't," Karyn shot back. "This is our livelihood-some of us have kids, man!"

Rebecca held up her hand. "I hear that, and I sympathise. I have kids, Karyn. Which is why we'll be ensuring you're all given proper severance and are eligible for employment insurance."

A little chorus of sighs and groans. "EI ain't shit," Vic rumbled. "And three weeks ain't much notice. This isn't something that just happens."

More vocal assent now. I agreed, and I folded my arms over my chest gritting my teeth but...I also knew the best we could do was bitch about it. Still, it felt nice. Nice to at least rage, instead of quietly, resignedly roll over, like some beaten dog. I was jaded and tired after over a decade of this industry, of the way we, the expendable class, would be hired on in a seasonal scoop, worked to the bone, and dumped before we were eligible for security or benefits. It didn't make it any easier.

A few of us headed to a bar a few blocks away afterwards to really bitch and commiserate. I winced as I watched Karyn slam another tequila shot. "Jeez, girl, take it easy."

"S'fine, mom's got the kids tonight. I just...I can't believe this shit. Guess it's time to find a new job."

"Yeah," I sighed. "Nothing like being the awkward new hire for another month and a half."

"I just...I really liked this one, man! Busy, but not too demanding, like friggin banqueting or sports bars or whatever. Good drinks, okay food. And friggin awesome staff!" She threw her arm about me, snatching my shoulder tightly to pull me into a bonecrushing half hug, with strength I wouldn't have expected of her thin, bony frame. I smiled warmly, and leaned into her embrace.

"Hear fucking hear."

At the end of the bar the kitchen crew stood chugging pints. Carla drifted over, spinning the ice in her vodka cran about with a straw. She stuck her lower lip out and collapsed against the bar. "This sucks, guys! I thought I was finally gonna learn a thing or two about cocktails and not just carry drinks to dirty old men for once. What am I supposed to do now?"

"Carry drinks to more dirty old men," Karyn replied bluntly. I smirked.

"Carla, I get that you're more of a doer," I offered. "But none of this is stuff you can't figure out by referring to a manual, or watching some instructional stuff. And honestly, there's no shame in looking a recipe up on the fly. Sometimes I forget what's in a drink."

"Mm. But the tips were so much better here!"

Karyn threw her hand up, nodding in agreement. "Right? God, it was like getting two paychecks at once sometimes."

The evening passed into night, and most of the others took off. I stood at the bar, nursing a rye and ginger as I relayed the news to Stephen.

"That's unfortunate...not only because of the loss of employment but I personally liked the place. Kind of the only reason for me to be in that neck of the woods. Are you going to be okay?"

I sighed, shifting my weight. It was funny, whenever I got or lost a job, I felt a strange combination of relief and worry. Relief that I'd found employment, worry that I'd fuck it up. Relief that I was freed of a Sisyphean hell, worry about, well, basic survival. I fought down the nest of snakes that threatened to plague me with visions of roadside poverty.

"Yeah, I always land on my feet. Worst case, I'll get a job or two in dishpit somewhere. Anything but a drivethru off the freeway."

"You're too smart for any of that. You should aim higher."

"Settle down, mom. For one, I don't have the kind of credentials you need to fail upwards. For another...I like this kind of work."

"You like washing dishes?"

"Oh shut the fuck up."

I smirked, and sipped at my drink. Just texting him about it was helping to ease my uncertainties. I glanced over as I heard a shuffle of movement. Carla stood by me with Karyn flagging from her shoulder, looking ready to pass out. She looked pretty soused herself, but was managing to keep her eyes open and support the both of them, which was good. Oh, to be young and invincible again.

"Hey, I'm gonna take momma bear home. You gonna be okay?"

"Carla, I am larger than the both of you put together. Believe me when I say I will be fine."

Carla chuckled. "Just checking. You know I look after my girls."

Their uber arrived, and Carla spilled Karyn in before scooching in herself. She gave one last wave to the bar's front window, then they were off, and I was left to drink and think and drink some more. I sighed. Time to update the resume, I suppose.

I headed home before too late, the resentment and anxiety I felt keeping me from really enjoying, or so much as consoling, myself. I felt listless, adrift. I wanted to sleep for 6 months straight and wake up to abundance. I let myself into my apartment and tossed my things to my couch, only bothering with the hall light on my way to the bathroom. I needed time to process, and as I stepped into the bathroom and stripped down, I already began to feel a bit calmer. I got into the shower and found the right setting for my personal preference of hot water, and leaned into it, shivering as I felt my body tense and throb, becoming accustomed to it, enjoying the endless pinpricks of steaming droplets raining upon me like a cleansing flame. In my melancholy my mind flashed to the dinner a few nights back, the rude server who'd clocked me. Maybe it was my croaky voice. Maybe it was these fucking shoulders. I looked down at myself, then squeezed my eyes shut, squeezed myself as I wrapped myself up. I sank into a fetal crouch, holding the back of my neck with laced fingers as I tried to make myself small enough to be completely insignificant, invisible, and maybe thereby not have to endure this...bullshit we call a modern life.

It was childish, and I knew it was childish, but part of me missed being swathed in the cradle of someone else's responsibility. Though even the thought of returning to my familial home for assistance at this point was enough to make me groan and shake the thought from my head as though it rattled about in there, a loose scrabble piece. I sighed, raising my head, and stretched under the spray, feeling perpetually tight muscles only partially give way. I stood, and reached for the shampoo. It wasn't a conscious decision, but I smiled faintly. Whenever I felt down, washing my hair seemed to help immensely. I took my time, getting a decent lather, during which time my mind wandered to hopes and daydreams, tentative plans, unbidden intrusions of the most asinine jokes that brought a stifled smile to my face.

By the time I was rinsing my hair out, lost in the sweetly clinical smell, I felt much lighter. I also felt exhausted. The early afternoon drinking party was taking its toll, and I was yawning before 10. Oh well. I didn't have much inclination to go anywhere, anyway. I conditioned my hair and washed down the rest of myself, and stepped out of the shower feeling fresh and clean, in every sense of the word, a lightness to my step I'd lacked beforehand. I brushed my teeth, gazing at my bleary reflection as the mirror slowly defogged, taking in my dark brown eyes. Long lashes, slender, almond shape...I think I'd call them pretty? What did Stephen see when he looked in these eyes? What did I see?

I lay listening to the drip of the gutter outside my window, the sound of a muffled television in a neighbour's unit, felt how comfortable my bed was beneath me, a queen sized mattress I had spent weeks comparing to others before purchasing--but I still couldn't sleep. I wasn't restless, tossing and turning, but I was seemingly wide awake from the moment I lay my head to pillow. My night owl traits coming back to bite me.

I turned over in bed and shivered as I smelled the faint remainder of Stephen's sweat and cologne. I felt myself twitch in my panties, and my belly tightened as my breath caught in my throat. Thoughtlessly, I followed the feeling, pressing my nose into the bed where he'd lay as I squeezed a hand between my thighs. I shivered, gasping at the intensity of the sensation--I wasn't even half hard and I felt...

"Nnn...Stephen," I whispered huskily as I stroked a couple fingers along my panties, feeling it tickle beneath. Thinking about him, about his smell, about him bearing down on me...about him touching me, manhandling me--

I started getting harder, and twisted, my legs bunching up and my ankles crossing. I gripped the bed, sniffing deeply for his scent, worried now it would be dispersed deep in the threads and polymers and lost to me entirely and swiftly. My other hand worked between my legs, rubbing and clutching, probing and squeezing. A few times I ventured towards my back end, grazing my tight hole with shivers of fantasy, but more troubling was the thought that I'd done little to experiment back there and Stephen was not by any metric, anywhere, a small customer.

This wasn't enough to sober me however, and I lost myself in delicious delusions of us writhing about like snakes. At times I felt myself become soft, others, grow hard again, and though I didn't come I enjoyed riding shallow waves of euphoria. At some point I fell asleep, the comfort of a yawning blackness coming to meet me.

-------

"So, what kind of experience do you bring to the table?"

I cleared my throat, trying to maintain a composed, confident front and keep up a perfectly regular amount of eye contact without coming off creepy. I suddenly felt overdressed in my business casual shirt and jacket, sitting across from a manager wearing a faded Sonic t-shirt under a short sleeve button down. "Well, I have several years of experience as a cocktail bartender, crafting classics as well as original-"

"Nah, we don't really do cocktails here," he cut in, leaning onto the table to look over my resume for what felt like the 17th time. I almost crossed my arms impatiently and caught myself, trying to remain still and calm. It's just a job. I need a job. I need money, because I need to not die of exposure.

"You've got serving experience then?" He tapped at my work history.

I fought back an exasperated sigh and nodded. Dude, did you even bother reading the resume? What is happening here? "Yes, over a decade. Kind of my bread and butter most of my career."

"That's good, we need people able to run a lot of plates. You got long arms, how many plates can you run?"

"Euhh, I guess 5 at a time?" I swallowed. I really did notwant to have to be running 5 plates all night. Why did I always try and sell myself as a workhorse?

"Mm. Okay, I'm just gonna run this back to the office and see about maybe getting you a trial shift."

I felt my feet thrumming under the table as he got up and tromped to the back. Finally, something. What felt like dozens of applications sent out and venues stopped by, but I had an interview within the week, and what's more, it seemed to be going quite well. Unfortunately, it was also a large sports bar, the kind of place I'd rather avoid, and where 90 percent of my coworkers would be variations of Carla, which I saw clearly as a few milled about by the host stand. I sighed, my eyes sweeping about the sparsely populated, mid-morning restaurant, the neon siding and tacky signs so glaringly out of place in the dispassionate glow of the natural light leaking in through the windows. Outside, the autumn wind whipped across a wide parking lot.

The manager-Greg? Grog?-returned with a card, and handed it to me. "Alright, that's got the dates of your first couple trial shifts, we'll get you shadowing Meg, that goes well and you'll get your own section next week."

I forced a smiled as I stood and shook his hand. "Great! Thank you!"

"No problem, and listen, don't worry about the size of the place, we all got our bit to do."

I stepped outside to the sounds of cars flying down the freeway by the strip mall. No fucking way I was taking this job. It was almost an hour away by bus, which didn't include waiting at the stop, and they were offering less than minimum, which--I sighed. Few people cared enough to make a stink about such things, Most of us just sighed, put our heads down, and ate shit for pennies.

I sat at the bus stop, and flicked out my phone.