Last Call (2 page)

He had warned her not to
drink it fast. While she had done her fair share of partying back
in college, the duties of being an assistant office manager had
long ago distanced her from her old drinking habits. She couldn't
believe she'd only been at the bar for half an hour and she was
already shit-faced. That would probably be a record in Carrie's
book, and her friend wasn't even around to record the occasion.
Sophie could hear her laughing already,
You're drunk off your ass!

She exhaled slowly through the dismay.
Panic retreated, withdrawing its sticky grasp. Relaxation unwound
her shoulders, flowed down her back, loosened her hips. She no
longer cared about the tight-fitting skirt, or her twisted
garter.

Sophie observed the conversation
between Lucas and the Chief, completely unaware the sound of their
words no longer carried to her ear. Sudden lucidity focused her
attention to the details of her bartender's tattoo. She studied his
Adam's apple bobbing, and wondered how his five o'clock shadow
tasted dripping with sweat. Light glimmered off his watch,
hypnotizing her with its beacon.

A dull ache in her lap intruded upon
her fruitful buzz. She found it ridiculous to believe that the
cocktail could have filled her bladder so soon while its venom
continued to benumb her. She rose from the stool, holding her
breath until she found her balance. The bathrooms had to be off to
her right, somewhere around the corner of the bar, but she couldn't
see any sign proclaiming their existence. She paid careful
attention to each high-heeled step, ensuring a firm footing before
moving her other foot. The last thing she needed was to fall on her
ass and become a laughing stock for the last few patrons of the
night.

Her reward for making the
correct decision was a hula girl sign on a door bearing the
word
Wahines
. She
could only imagine the embarrassment of winding up in a dark corner
all by herself, or worse, walking into the men's room.

She walked through the door and was not
prepared to come face-to-face with her drunken reflection in the
mirror. Faded green Tiki wallpaper plastered the walls, and fake
palm fronds hung from corners of the ceiling. A detailed mural
along the side of the only stall prominently featured a topless
island girl staring along a sunset-kissed beach. For a moment she
pictured herself standing beside the painted woman, warm breezes
caressing her own nudity as she searched painted waves for deeper
meaning.

Sophie knocked on the stall door out of
habit even though her gut instinct told her she was alone. When
nobody replied with a panicked voice she entered, and then locked
the door firmly behind her. Vintage postcards and posters from
tropical places covered the walls, proving to her that the
tackiness of Trader Mic's truly had no end. While everything looked
clean, she knew better than to take a chance. After lining up a
paper seat cover with precision, she hiked her skirt, slid her
black lace thong past her garters, then took her seat.

She lost herself in the artwork,
scrutinizing each postcard for authenticity. Slowly her imagination
wandered back to the beach painted on the stall. In her hand she
held a pen, and she had finished signing a post card of her
own.

Dear Mom, I'm lost in
paradise, but don't worry about me. I'll be just fine. Love, Sophie
XOXO.

Sometime soon after, Sophie fell asleep
on the toilet.

#

Gulls squawked high above. Sophie
savored warm sand between her toes as the setting sun painted her
bare breasts with golden fire. She had quit her job only days ago;
echoes of her boss still rang in her ears. She reduced her savings
to a one way ticket and the few travelers' checks tucked in her
wallet. She never thought she would ever step foot on a real beach,
but now she was here with a strong sense of freedom lifting her
chin. Waves crashed against the shore. As they retreated she felt
all of her inhibitions carried out to sea.

Yards ahead of her, a man cast his
fishing line out to sea. Thirst stirred in her throat. She walked
toward the man intent on inviting him along for a drink at the
cabana bar a short hike down the beach. Its vintage sign flickered
past her focus in the salty breeze. In between the gentle sound of
crashing waves, a ukulele played its sweet song. She approached the
fisherman from behind, her arm reached out to tap his shoulder when
she recognized his tattoo.

"Lucas?" she asked, an incredulous
stare setting in.

He turned toward her, his face obscured
by a floppy hat. His Hawaiian shirt was partially unbuttoned,
slowly flapping in the breeze.

"What a coincidence, huh?" She hugged
him, savoring the scent of coconut oil and sweat soaking his tan
skin. "It's me, remember? You made me that killer drink that one
night…"

He lifted the brim of his hat, stared
for a moment before his face lit up. "Oh yeah, you're the Tiki
virgin from Trader Mic's."

"Yep, that's me." She held out her
arms, silently asking for a hug.

He dropped his reel and scooped her
into his strong embrace. "So what brings you here to the big
island?"

"Just relaxing," she said. "I was about
to grab a drink, would you like to join me?"

"Yeah, that sounds good." He took her
by the hand and led her toward the flickering sign. "I know a great
place over here."

"Do you work there?" Sophie's hand felt
so tiny in his firm grip. She stared at his fingers wrapped around
hers, imagining what they could do to her body if she only gave him
the chance.

"No, but I've made a few friends,"
Lucas said, smiling.

Awe captured Sophie's eyes as they
walked through the bar door. Shadows cast by coconut torches danced
about the walls. An old phonograph sat in the corner, the record on
top wobbled slowly as ukulele notes crackled through the speaker.
In the center, behind a bamboo counter, sat a shirtless fat man
with tribal tattoos covering every inch of him. "Aloha," he said
with a wave.

"Aloha," Lucas said. "We'll have two of
your special Mai Tais."

"You got it, boss." The man stood,
slipped a wooden Tiki mask over his face. Slowly he chanted in a
language Sophie couldn't understand.

"What's he saying?" She asked
Lucas.

He chuckled. "I have no
idea."

The masked man chanted as he filled two
coconut mugs with old bottles topped with corks. He danced and
chanted behind the bar, stopping suddenly to clap his hands. Blue
flames ignited across their drinks with a flash of heat that
knocked their heads back.

"Two Mai Tai,
very special
," said the
man behind the mask. "Enjoy."

Lucas grabbed the drinks, and passed
one to Sophie. Fruity spirits swirled inside her coconut, their
potent concoction masked by sweet aroma.

"Cheers!" Lucas tapped his cup against
hers, then took a drink.

"Cheers," Sophie said. She knocked her
drink back with one gulp. Magic filled her, warmed her inside, and
slowly spread between her thighs.

"Didn't I warn you about these
drinks?"

She tossed the cup over her shoulder,
grabbed Lucas by the collar, and kissed him as she pressed her
breasts against his body. When he finally returned her kiss, his
tongue tasted like paradise.

#

A fist hammered the bathroom door.
"Anybody in here?"

Sophie's eyes popped open, dreams of
the beach crumbled from the backs of her eyelids. Heat flushed
through her chest, and to her surprise, sweet aches tantalized her
pussy. She found herself leaned over with her chin propped in her
hands and her elbows resting on her bare knees. Words stuck to her
dry tongue when she opened her mouth.

"Nobody's ever in here," somebody
muttered. The door squealed inward.

"Hold on!" Sophie stood up, the cool
toilet seat peeling away from her ass. She crashed against the side
of the stall, her legs numb and knees wobbling, with panties cuffed
about her ankles.

"Shit, sorry." The door slammed shut.
"Bar's closed by the way. So, hurry up in there,
alright?"

Warm needles coursed through her numb
legs and stabbed through her soles as she fought for her balance.
She braced herself against the stall, peeled the waxy liner off her
ass, praying it didn't rip after every loud crinkle. Shame branded
her cheeks as she pulled up her panties. She'd never fallen asleep
in a public bathroom before and she sure as hell didn't plan on
updating her Facebook status with this event. She rolled her eyes
at her watch after some sloppy math revealed she'd been sleeping
for well over an hour.

Sophie approached the sink shrouded by
the dreary emptiness of sobriety. She washed her hands and briefly
examined her makeup in the mirror. The damage was minor,
considering she could have smeared her face away in her sleep.
There was nothing that couldn't be fixed by a wet dab from her
finger. Wilt curled the edges of the red flower falling from her
hair, so she tossed it into the trash. Taking advantage of her
privacy, she unhooked her garter belt and twisted the bothersome
strap back into alignment. She sighed, not wanting to leave, but
realizing her dilemma would only worsen if she stayed put. Running
past him with her hands covering her face wasn't really an option,
or was it?

She cracked the door enough to peek
out. Bright lights exposed cracked floor tiles and lacey looking
water stains across the ceiling. Trader Mic's façade perished to
reveal the dive it truly was.

Lucas centered his attention on
sweeping trash from a booth. The moment Sophie stepped clear of the
bathroom he turned around smiling. "That was you in there? I
thought you skipped out on your tab."

"I'm really sorry. That was one hell of
a drink."

"I warned you, didn't I? What have you
been doing in there this whole time? Please warn me now if you
barfed. I hate cleaning that shit up."

"I kind of fell asleep." She
shrugged.

"Well, at least that's better than
driving off the road drunk." He balanced the broom against a
table.

"You do have a point there."

"Are you okay to drive? I can call a
cab for you."

"No, I'm much better now, thanks to my
nap. Just let me know how much I owe you, and then I'll get out of
your hair"

"Don't worry about it. I already closed
out my register."

"I'd hate for you to get in trouble.
How much do I owe you, really?"

"Look, I'll tell my boss that I had to
throw you out because you couldn't hold your liquor." He winked as
he laughed. "Besides, it wouldn't be the first time we tossed
somebody out of this fine establishment."

"Well, thank you" She returned his
smile. "I'll be sure to write a good review for you on
Yelp."

"That would be great, thanks." He
grabbed the broom and returned to work. "Good night."

"Good night." Sophie walked
toward the red exit sign, passing a row of dusty Tiki masks mounted
along the wall. Remorse slowly faltered her steps.
How could you be so stupid
, she thought.
You could have totally
had him if you weren't so awkward.

Pain bolted through her foot and
twisted all her toes at once. "Ouch!" Sophie stumbled, losing one
shoe. Somehow she caught her balance before falling against the
door.

"Whoa, are you all right?" Lucas
dropped the broom and ran to her side.

"Yeah, it's just a cramp in my foot."
She leaned against the wall, raising her leg to rub her foot. She
blushed before the words passed through her lips, "My legs fell
asleep in the bathroom, and I think they're still kind of
numb."

Lucas quickly swallowed a snicker and
offered a warm smiled instead. "Why don't you sit down for a moment
and give your legs a chance to wake up?"

Sophie couldn't believe she had to
think twice about the offer. "That's probably a good idea, thanks."
Another spasm bent her toes but she managed to smile through
it.

Lucas sat her at the closest table.
"Want some coffee? It's fresh."

"That would be great,
thanks."

"My pleasure." Lucas jogged behind the
bar to where the dented coffee maker hissed in the corner. "This
stuff is fantastic. My brother owns a coffee shop up in Portland
and roasts it all himself."

"I've never been to Portland." She
smiled, wondering if his brother could possibly be any cuter than
he was. "Seems too cold and rainy for me."

"That's why I never moved there." He
set a pair of steaming mugs on the table. "Cream and
sugar?"

"Yes, please." The delicious coffee
scent perked open her eyes. "This smells amazing."

"Wait 'til you taste it." Lucas dropped
a pile of creamer and sugar packets in the middle of the table
along with a few plastic swizzles. "All we have are the basics,
none of those fancy coffee house syrups or crap like
that."