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"It's no use looking up, there's no proper bar in that direction".33Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡp3hzIahFND
- Roland Topor
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Once Cassie is dressed, made-up, coiffed, ready and perfumed, she heads to the kitchen to prepare pasta carbonara style. Good job Cass, this will help mop up the alcohol from our bodies tonight.
We eat in silence as we savor this delicious pasta dish, topped with generous amounts of cream and bacon. She reminds me to put on the little black top. Damn, I was hoping she'd forget that detail. After a good meal, I get changed. I'm not very comfortable, but at least the neckline isn't so plunging, the top doesn't reach my navel, it's black, and best of all, it's neither a dress nor a skirt.
She begs me to put on a little mascara and lipstick. She's so stubborn that I give up, don't want to hear her moan in my ears anymore. If I'm going to wear something different, I might as well go all the way for one evening, right?
She carefully applies mascara to my naturally long lashes. She steps back to admire her work with a smile.
- A little more red and you'll be perfect! 33Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡWB4NFa8vtx
She's rummaging through a box where dozens of lip glosses are stored like treasures. I hope she's not planning to spread color on me like she does on her canvases. She places the material on my chapped lips.
- Ugh, the lipstick brings out all the little dry patches. Wait, two seconds.
She heads for the bathroom and returns with a cotton pad soaked in an oily, granular product. She then rubs my lips vigorously.
- Are you trying to rip my lips off? I bark at Cassie.
- Almost! she ironized, sticking her tongue out at me.
She removes the residue and I bring my index finger to my lips, to make sure I still have them.
- It's soft.
- Yes, ma'am, the lipstick can now be applied properly! Hehehehe
When she starts laughing like that, she looks like a lunatic and i love it. She approaches me, holding the gun in her hands. She grabs my chin with her little hand and spreads the lipstick, slowly, meticulously. I start to tremble, afraid she's going to disfigure me completely.
- Stop moving or you'll look like the Joker if I slip.
I walk over to the mirror and feel as if I'm looking at a rather ordinary girl. Cassie turns her back to me for a moment and I take the opportunity to tap my lips on my hand to remove as much of the material as possible. Despite the end of the day, my hair remains slightly wavy. I'm now wearing a new top, more feminine than what I'm used to, and I'm wearing make-up. What the fuck is wrong with me today?
21h40 -
It's time to get down to business: the bar. Tonight, no holding back, Cassie needs to drink to find inspiration, while I need to get drunk, because I like it, yes, but it's also just what my body craves, after a day a little too girly for my taste.
We arrive in front of the "Yae" establishment. I feel Cassie stiffen beside me.
- Xio, are you sure where you're taking me?
Tugging at the sleeve of my jacket, she stares at me with a worried expression. Big, tattooed men stand in front of the building, their motorcycles at their sides, as if these bikes were members of their gang.
- I come here often. I reassured her in a calm tone.
I go first, while she's still holding my sleeve. I land at the counter, patting the seat next to mine and asking her to sit down.
I order a glass of whisky from the charming waiter and Cassie opts for a light first drink, a Spritz. I hold out my black VIP card and he stamps another one on it. The card is almost complete. I don't know if there's a reward yet, but I wouldn't say no to a free bottle.
- What's this? asks Cassie.
- I get one free drink a day.
- Why do you get this? Do you know the manager?
- Never met him. I say with a shrug.
Cassie complains that I should have offered her a drink in that case. But my dear... This glass is far more important to me than it is to you, and given the price I'm going to spend tonight, I can keep it for myself.
- This bar is kind of creepy, don't you think? Apart from the pretty waiter, the people here seems to be either drugged or depressed, even in rut, sometimes all three at the same time. She whispers in my ear as two people mix their drools in a passionate kiss beside us. They rush to the bathroom to stifle the seething heat of their bodies.
After our first drink, I take another glass of a more expensive whisky, twelve years old this time. The amber liquid that slides down my windpipe is warm. The fragrance of whiskies is the result of complex chemical reactions between the distillate and the various elements in the wood. Aging also gives it a different texture, releasing solid particles (sugars and glycerols), making it smoother and sweeter.
As for Cassie, she orders a "Sex on the beach" cocktail made with pineapple juice, cranberry juice, peach liqueur and vodka. A treacherous cocktail, because of its very sweet taste. She drinks it much faster than her Spritz and starts to get drunk.
- Xio, do you think other people see us the way we see ourselves in the mirror?
- What are you talking about?
- Do they see my face the way I do? Does the mirror distort me? Is that why some people aren't photogenic? Do people perceive me differently? Do I look younger? What image do I project?
- I think you're starting to drink a little too much, Cass. I pointed out.
- No, on the contrary, I'm just getting started! She whistles at the waiter. Give me two shots. She demands in a more serious tone.
- If you want my point of view, I think people see us differently than our reflection. A mirror reflects an image of us by symmetry, whereas others see us by rotation. And then, our reflection is subjective to each of us, I guess. Some people will see you as an innocent person, while others will think you're a mature person who just wants to keep a childlike soul. The most important thing is to be true to yourself, Cass. Who cares how other people see you?
- Yeah, you're right.
She grabs the two cups and hands me one. We toast our little glasses and swallow the fresh, lemony liquid.
- You sure you're okay? I grimaced, worried.
- I'm fine. She plants her gaze in mine, her eyes now slightly glassy. I really am. It's just that... No, nothing, never mind.
- Cass, you can talk to me.
- I know, I know, but it's so ridiculous.
I can see her wiggling her slender fingers.
- Explain to me, now. I stammer in a low, threatening voice.
- My art has been laughed at, and so have I. she said
- Who dared! I swear I'll kill him! I shouted, rising from the stool.
Cassie grabs me by the shoulders and makes me sit down again.
- Don't make a big deal of it, please. It's just that the words hurt my ego. I was told that a child could do what I did, but that it made sense anyway because I'm just a kid. It's all right. she clarified before I could make a scene.
- You're a great artist, Cass. Really.
- Thank you.
I place an order for 4 paf tequilas, 2 each, to make Cassie feel slightly better. I offer her the first glass and tell her the procedure.
- You put a bit of salt between your thumb and forefinger, lick it off, drink it neat and bite into the lemon wedge. Got it?
- Together?
- Together. One, two, three! We swallow our drinks at the same time, and I'm delighted to see Cassie's face tense up after she takes a bite of her lemon.
- I don't understand how something can be so disgusting and so delicious at the same time. It's addictive! She bursts out laughing.
It comforts me to see her like this. There are healthier alternatives to alcohol for avoiding depression, but it's true that alcohol has a much faster effect, even in the short term. We follow up with the other tequila shot and she starts telling me about the person she's seeing at the moment. Cassie never pairs off, only enjoys body-to-body romps with men a little older than her, who shower her with small gifts and outings to fine restaurants. Her rule is never to sleep with the same person more than 3 times, so as not to become attached, even though deep down she dreams of just one thing: finding the man who will share her life, until she breathes her last second. Her parents' divorce took place in a very negative atmosphere. It's one of the subjects she doesn't discuss, even with me. Tonight, like all the days before and after, I won't be much help to her. Comforting people isn't exactly my strong point.
- I'm going to the toilet, do you want to come?
- No, it's okay. she stammers, hiccupping.
Maybe she should ease up on the drinking, if she doesn't want a hangover tomorrow. I head for the bathroom. I push my way through the people hugging and kissing in the narrow corridor. The unisex toilets aren't very clean at this time of night. There are drops of piss, bits of used toilet paper, still-full condoms and walls scrawled with sweet words, insults, explicit drawings and phone numbers. But what can you really expect in a place like this, where debauchery reigns? I squat down without touching the toilet bowl, where countless bacteria must be dying to reach the skin of the buttocks of the person who will be too drunk to sit down completely.
I step out and the sight in front of me disturbs me. Cassie stands at the counter as a man's hand rests on her buttock, the other hand pulling her by the arm, bringing her closer to him. I move dangerously towards him.
- Come on, kitten, come to our table, we'll show you a good time. announced the man.
- Let go of me, you bum! shouted Cassie.
- Tramp? Me? Say that again after I shove my dick down your throat! He pulls her against him.
I reach their level, from behind. My blood runs cold and I don't think about my actions. I simply act. I grab a half-empty bottle of vodka from one of the tables next to me, while the youngsters shout at me, begging me to give them back their rejuvenating liquid. I don't bother to look at them, take a few steps forward, and PAF.
The glass bottle shatters against the edge of the counter, alcohol drips onto the floor, filling my nostrils with a strong smell. Everyone is startled, interrupting their activities to turn towards the source of the crash. I pick up one of the sharp pieces of glass and place it to the man's throat. He stares at me in amazement. The people around are calling for a fight. They want a show, I'll give them a show.
- Who the hell are you? he points out, looking up at me from his six-foot height.
- Your worst nightmare, if you don't let go of her right now. I threatened, as my blood began to run down my forearm.
- Because you'd dare kill someone, little one? Do you even know who I am?
- Poor shit. I press lightly on his neck with the piece of glass, just enough to let a small drop trickle down and whisper in his ear. Does it hurt? Scream for me. I playfully press a little harder against his flesh, before stepping back and having a good laugh.
- Ouch! BITCH! You're gonna pay for that! Guys, get that freak!
Two men quickly approach me. I position myself on my feet, ready to face them. The man persists in embracing Cassie and don't loose his grip, that repulse me. She trembles, a tear rolls down her cheek, pleading with me to let go and leave it. I smile and tell her:
- Let me enjoy myself for a few seconds, it's been so long.
33Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡI2EooXJ2n8
