On the Rocks

V (HAZEL)

After a few weeks of working at the bar, I find myself in a comforting routine.

I wake up early. 

Go for a run.

Read at my favourite coffee shop.

Go home and shower.

Go to work. 

It's nice to have somewhere to go to everyday. Somewhere where I can remove myself from having to think and be absorbed into the employee status.

Mixing drinks distracts me from the dark thoughts that were haunting me before I got this job. The music runs through my veins and the beat synchronises with my heart as an extra layer of protection against the world. 

I find myself swaying to the songs as I make drinks, not caring if anyone is watching. I especially don't care about Denise, and have learnt to ignore her disapproving presence. 

I turn to my next customer and can't help but smile excitedly when he orders a rare drink I have studied for. This is my chance to show off. I hurriedly begin to make the drink for him but almost shriek when a hand pulls me into the back stairwell from the bar. 

"What the fuck do you think you are doing," I scowl at Dawson. He crosses his arms and glares down at me. I try not to squirm from the intensity and maintain my anger. 

"Careful now, Spitfire. There is only so much brattiness I will take before I put you over my knee."

My eyes go wide.

What.

The.

Actual Fuck.

"Sir, that would be highly unprofessional and would probably break all sorts of laws," I try to diffuse the sexual tension between us, whilst discreetly pressing my thighs together, hoping he won't notice.

But he does.

"Spitfire, I can the thought of me teaching you a lesson turns you on from the way your pressing those pretty little thighs together," he takes a step closer to me and whispers in my ear. His breath is hot against my skin and I find myself turned on just like he said. My core pulses at the thought of him spanking me over his knee.

"I...I...I..."

He laughs as I fail to string together a sentence. God damn this man. The heat down there radiates upwards and turns into anger. I refuse to put my job in jeopardy purely because my bosses are hot. 

Hot or not, I'd rather have a roof over my head. 

"Dawson, I would appreciate if you would not flirt with me. I am your employee and you should treat me as such," I create distance between us and cross my arms over my chest, "now what did you want me for?"

He nods, seeming to accept my boundaries.

"I wanted to let you know that the guys aren't happy about you smiling to that man."

I rake my hands through my hair in despair. These men and their need to control everything.

"Well then they can all tell me that. But for now, I have a job to do," and I push open the door to the bar, which lets the music flood through to the stairwell, "and besides, I am free to smile at whomever I wish."

I add an extra swish to my hair and walk through the door, resuming my role at the bar. My shoulders sink when I realise the exotic cocktail had already been made. God damn. 

Luckily the rest of my shift goes by without a hitch and, before I know it, I am walking back to my flat. I decide to run home as it is pitch black and my neighbourhood isn't exactly the safest.