Sin To Win – Friday Flash #3

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IMG_1306“Seriously, are we crazy?”

Her eyes, sparkling with mischief, Jules giggled, “We need this Sash, we need a bit of fun!” and pulled open the heavy door to the bar.

A heady cocktail of leather, smoke and alcohol assaulted their nostrils and they squinted to adjust to the low lighting after the warm evening sun outside.

Behind the bar stood a shaven-headed, giant of a man in a tight black tee-shirt and leather vest, tattoos of topless women and crucifixes competing for space on his massive arms and throat.

“Aw fuck, Jules, what exactly happens here?” Sasha whispered, a nervous sweat piercing her smooth cappuccino skin.

“You saw the poster outside, we get a free drink if we… just think of it as a dare, ok?” before turning her gaze to the barman, “Hey, we are here for the Sin To Win,” flashing a brilliant smile at him that earned her a wry cocked eyebrow in reply, as he continued polishing glasses.

“Sure thing, lady,” he slid a glass jar stuffed with pieces of folded paper across the bar, “Pick a Sin from the Bin. You girls should know, this ain’t no ordinary Happy Hour; no Sin, no drink,” his voice was raspy, difficult to make out over the background rock music.

“I’ll have a…” Jules scanned the cocktail menu, “… Long Island Iced Tea.”

He pushed the jar closer to her and she dipped her hand inside.

“Well? What is it?” breathed Sasha.

Jules didn’t reply; instead she revolved her bar stool to take in the other customers in the room, peering into the half-light, until a smile spread across her lips and she rose to walk across the floor. Sasha picked up the tiny folded paper and read the Sin and couldn’t suppress her smile. This was perfect for Jules, just perfect.

The beat of the music changed from up-tempo rock to a deep, rhythmic bass beat. Jules swayed in time to it as she made her way over to a bearded man nursing a whiskey at a small wooden table in the centre of the bar.

A slow smile crept across the stranger’s face as she raised her arms over her head and swung her hips centimeters from his lap, her flimsy summer dress floating as she moved. Turning in a lazy half circle to present her ass to him, she rocked and grinded, never quite touching his body with hers, glancing over her shoulder at him through her long bronze curls occasionally. Just as the song drew near it’s end, he reached out as if to touch her, but Jules was fast, effortlessly sidestepping and giggling, “Not part of the deal, Mister!” before giving him the briefest flash of the pink thong under her dress and returning the bar.

“Your turn!” she laughed as she sipped her reward.

Sasha selected a note from the jar. Her eyes widened as they met with the barman’s, “Ok then, let’s do this,” and she leaned across the bar…

Copyright, 2016, illicitthoughts.wordpress.com
All rights reserved.

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