Chapter 1: Introduction
I look in the mirror once more, even the quick trip from my apartment above the bar was embarrassing in this new uniform. I tried every bra I have, not one was suitable under this tiny crop top and I can clearly see my nipples through the materiel. The shorts are too damn short, my ass cheeks just pop out, I can feel my ass jiggle as I came down the stairs. This uniform is just so fucking crazy. I can't believe that Barbara is making me wear this. And I just know the air conditioning is cranked to high, my nipples are gonna be hard all shift long.
As I push the door open, the familiar smell of aged whiskey and stale beer fills my nostrils. The bar is a symphony of clinking glasses and hearty laughter, the kind of camaraderie that drowns out any awkwardness. The wall behind the polished mahogany bar is adorned with old black and white photos of the establishment, its cabin-like interior untouched since the 1920s.
I spot Barbara, our manager, behind the bar, her stern face softened by a smile as she wipes down the counter. She's got a no-nonsense way about her, but I've seen her crumble a time or two.
I guess being a manager of a bar like this one, where history and tradition meet the grungy reality, can take its toll. Her eyes meet mine as I approach, and she nods in a small, acknowledging gesture. "Late night?" she asks, her voice gruff from years of shouting over the noise.
"Not too late," I reply, smiling. "Just giving myself a moment to get used to this..." I gesture down at my outfit, then quickly add, "uniform."
She raises an eyebrow but doesn't comment. Instead, she hands me a dish towel and nods towards the tables. "Best get started.
It's a full house tonight," Barbara says, her gaze sweeping over the crowd. I follow her line of sight, taking in the familiar faces. Tom, my friend and co-worker, is wiping down a table, his muscular arms flexing with each movement. He catches my eye and winks, a small smile playing on his lips. I can't help but smile back, grateful for his support.
Then there's Jack, one of the regulars, his eyes already roaming over me like a predator sizing up its prey. He's a middle-aged man, his hairline receding, but his confidence hasn't.
He's got that sleazy demeanor that makes me want to roll my eyes, but I keep it together. I've learned to ignore the creeps, especially when Barbara's watching. She knows them all too well. She'd warned me about Jack, about his hands that tend to wander.
Matt, on the other hand, is a different story. He's tall, athletic, and has that friendly, approachable vibe. He's always been kind, even when Jack is being an asshole. He notices me looking at him and gives me a small nod, his eyes warming as they meet mine. I return the nod, feeling a tingle of something I can't quite place.
It's not Jack's sleazy advances or Matt's friendly smile, but something else. Something I can't quite name. I shake it off, focusing on the task at hand. I slip the dish towel into my pocket and make my way to the tables, greeting the regulars with a warm smile.
"Hey, Alice," Tom calls out as I pass by. "You look... different today."
I glance over at him, raising an eyebrow. "Different? You mean because I'm not wearing the same old shirt?"
He chuckles, "Well, it's not the same shirt, that's for certain. But you look... good."
I feel my cheeks flush at his compliment, but I maintain a casual expression.
"Thanks, Tom. I guess Barbara wanted me to fit in with the... theme," I say, gesturing to the rustic interior of the bar.
Tom follows my gaze, then looks back at me, his expression serious. "Alice, you know I'm always here if you need anything, right? If anyone makes you uncomfortable, just say the word."
I appreciate his concern, but I don't want to make a big deal out of it. "Thanks, Tom. I can handle it. I've dealt with worse at the reservation."
He nods, but I can see the worry in his eyes. "Just remember, you don't have to put up with any shit.
"I know you can handle your shit, but one more guy who calls you Poke A Hot Ass is getting a black eye to show his darling wife. Racism I can handle, the pervs commenting is creepy but being disrespectful, just call on me."
I give him a reassuring smile, then turn away to approach another table. I'm halfway there when I hear a low, slurred voice behind me. "Hey, babe."
Jack, the sleazy regular, is grinning at me, his eyes lingering on my exposed midriff. "What can I get you tonight?" I ask, my voice sweet and professional, even as my stomach churns.
He leans in, his breath hot on my face. "A taste of that, maybe?" He gestures to my body, his eyes roaming over me like a hungry predator. His hand reaches out, but I quickly step back, my expression cold.
"Not tonight, Jack.
I'm here to work," I say, my voice firm but polite. I've learned that with guys like Jack, it's best to be clear but not rude. Rudeness just gives them an excuse to be assholes.
He leans back, his grin widening. "Oh, come on, Alice. You're new here. Let me show you a good time."
I roll my eyes, but before I can respond, a familiar voice cuts in. "Jack, leave the girl alone." Matt's standing behind Jack, his arms crossed over his chest. His expression is calm, but there's a firmness in his voice that makes it clear he means business.
Jack turns to look at Matt, his grin fading.
"Mind your own business, Matt. I was just having a little fun with the new girl."
Matt's gaze shifts to me, his eyes softening. "Alice is here to work, not to be harassed. Isn't that right, Alice?"
I nod, grateful for Matt's intervention. "Yes, that's right. Now, can I get you something to drink, Matt?"
He smiles at me, then turns his attention back to Jack. "I think it's time for you to find another seat, Jack. You're making Alice uncomfortable."
Jack scoffs, but he stands up, his chair screeching loudly against the wooden floor. "Fine, fine.
I was just trying to be friendly," Jack grumbles, but he moves to another table, casting a lingering glance at me before he sits down. I let out a sigh of relief, flashing Matt a grateful smile.
"Thanks, Matt. I appreciate it," I say, my voice sincere.
He shrugs, a small smile playing on his lips. "No problem, Alice. I mean it, though. If anyone gives you a hard time, just let me know."
I nod, feeling a warmth spread through me at his kindness. "I will, Matt. Thanks."
As I turn to leave, I feel a hand on my arm. I look down to see Tom's hand resting lightly on my skin.
His touch sends a jolt through me, but not in a bad way. It's firm yet gentle, and I can't help but feel a sense of security in his presence.
"Alice?" Tom's voice is soft, concerned. "Are you okay? You look a little shaken."
I take a deep breath, trying to center myself. "I'm fine, Tom. Just... just had to deal with Jack's advances again."
Tom's expression darkens, his jaw clenching. "That guy is a piece of work. If you ever need me to handle him, just say the word."
I give him a small smile, appreciating his offer.
I can handle Jack, but it's nice to know you've got my back."
Tom's hand squeezes my arm gently before he lets go. "Always, Alice. Always."
I turn away, feeling a strange mix of emotions. Tom's kindness and Matt's intervention have left me feeling grateful and protected, but there's also a sense of unease. I'm not used to this kind of attention, not like this. Back home, I was just Alice, the girl who could out-fish any of the boys and outrun them too. Here, I'm Alice, the girl in the too-tight uniform who's drawing eyes and unwanted advances.
I've always been proud of my curves, but this... this is something else. I feel like a piece of meat, and it's unnerving.
I take a deep breath, steeling myself for the rest of the night. I can handle this. I've faced worse in my life. I just need to keep my head down, do my job, and ignore the catcalls and wandering hands.
As I make my way to the bar to pick up an order, I feel a pair of eyes on me. I glance up to see Matt watching me, a thoughtful expression on his face. He raises his glass to me in a silent toast, a small smile playing on his lips.
I return the gesture, feeling my cheeks flush slightly at his attention.
"Good luck," he mouths, his eyes softening as he looks at me.
I nod, appreciative of his support. As I walk away, I can't help but feel a sense of camaraderie with Matt. He's different from most of the guys here - he's kind and respectful, unlike Jack who seems to think it's his right to make advances.
The rest of the night passes in a blur of orders and conversations. I deliver drinks to laughing groups of friends, serve steaming plates of bar food to hungry patrons, and even manage to charm the old-timers into telling me stories from their youth.
And the tips, I look at the tips as apologies for the leering and lustful stares, I feel the heat of hands that almost reach to cop a feel of my exposed ass. The drinks and the shots of tequila and whiskey are giving me a serious buzz. I sit with a few groups during my breaks, staying out of reach but still in a friendly distance. Last call is coming soon, I just want to get out of these heels and fart.