My Unvigilant Appetite - Chapter 1

"Which garnish should I use for this drink?"

That's what I'd asked myself while watching the triple sec tipple down into the mixing container. This is my life; shake, pour and making small talk to myself or others are all part of my routine. Right now, I'm trying to make a some signature drinks for the upcoming happy hours ahead. I attempted to do this with whatever was left in my kitchen cabinet.

I glared at the bottle of Patron tequila that sat on the marble counter top of the island in my kitchen. At this time, my concoction needs a taste test. I guzzled the entire drink - I know an ordinary bartender would use a straw, but it's my drink and my house. My little creation turned out to be better than I thought it would. It just wasn't perfect; it's still missing something. Leave it to me, and I'd add some more tequila and call it a day. Then again, that isn't a bad idea entirely. I could call it, "Death at Your Doorstep." The title alone has all of the kick this drink needs.

"I've got to go, Maj," said the loud and hoarse voice from the other room. Oh yeah, in my bedroom, there's Nate. He's one of my... I mean, he is one of the many fellow patrons that visit me at my bar, along with the after-work crowd. The reason he's here is that I figured he wouldn't talk so much while in attendance. He lost his voice at the bar during a musical performance. Dammit, I wanted to cum at least once more before he'd decided to leave.

About Nathaniel, he's a rock star! I laughed at my exaggeration. Nate is a short stopper, that's the best way I could put it. Shit, that's the only way to describe him for the ladies, especially when he lacks in the pleasuring department, while intoxicated and talks so damn much. He's about 6 feet with sandy, brown hair and green eyes. Sometimes those eyes appeared browner to me than green, but hey, I'm always a tad bit over the word tipsy around him. I think I've overdone it with the whiskey upon meeting during my shift. But he later confirmed that it was green while I rode him to sleep. I would say that he is a solid 220, maybe, and packing an unloaded AK15 in his boxer briefs. The poor guy only had one bullet in the chamber, and I don't like that.

"Okay," I replied calmly.

Within seconds of my reply, Nate walked out of my bedroom and approached the island of my kitchen. He wore a slick pair of G-Star denim that were purposely unbuttoned and unzipped. The way he placed his arms around my waist and turned my body in his direction, I figured I'd spoken too soon. Nate eased my body closer to him, before removing my cup from my hands. He started kissing my face, gently and massaged my waistline. I thought I was going to get my second round right here on this counter top, but that wasn't the case at all.

"Sounds like someone won't miss me much when I'm gone," said Nate. He was correct. The sex was awful, and he's such a waste of my time.

"Make sure you grab all of your things before you leave," I scoffed. "Oh yeah, my door has a slam lock so just close it behind you." I started walking out of the kitchen and towards my bedroom, lugging that bottle of tequila and what's left of it. With an eye roll, I finished what I had to say, glancing in his direction for just a bare second.

I couldn't be anymore blunt with what I had to say. I never acknowledged any man I didn't care about by their first name. And, to follow that thought, he disappointed me in bed.

"I'll text you when I wake up later," he mumbles with such confusion and discontent, but who gives a fuck?

My responses to men are always the same. No guy will ever be missed after our sexual encounter, no matter how great the sex is. They're all here to help me get something done, and then they'd have to leave. Screw them and send them home is my motto. I'm not here for relationships, affection, or anything else for that matter. When it was a woman's turn to settle down, no guy on this earth was ready for it. Nate didn't know this thing about me, but he gets the picture now. And if he doesn't, he sure will since I won't be calling or texting him after today.

I turned off the kitchen light before hearing my damn house door slam behind him. "Good morning to you, too," I yelled at him. Yeah, he's mad, and I'm sad about one nut. For every one time a man cums during sex, we should have 4 - at least. He came shy of that; I got one when he did. There shouldn't be any man in their right state of mind who's proud of that.

I started towards my room, but made a sharp turn into my living area, removing my robe, rubbing my breasts and kicking my slippers off in the hall. I jumped right into my sectional and turned on my 55" flat screen smart TV from Samsung. I closed my eyes thinking about everything while listening to the news. It's already 930 AM, and I haven't eaten anything. It's breakfast time, and I planned this whole thing - this fool screwed up my morning plans and my appetite. I have to be back at the bar at 4 pm. Thank goodness it's just around the corner. Might as well get some sleep.

When I woke, I came to think about "him" - oh please, not Nate, this one guy that hurt me and changed my life completely.