Last Call

“Last call!” Melody's voice challenged the loud of murmurs of her busy bar. The local sports team had won in an upset and everyone was in good spirits. She had worn a loose-fitting t-shirt that day with their name across her chest, the fabric draped just on the edge of her bra exposing bouncy cleavage.

A few patrons ordered one more and everyone started working their way to the exit. Melody was relieved - the night had been exhausting since she had to go it alone. Her main bartender had called out, supposedly sick, but she knew better. She muttered and cussed working through her frustrated thoughts and slammed down the beer mug she had been feverishly washing. The head of a man she hadn't noticed before jolted up at the end of the bar and then went right back to resting on his folded arms. Startled, thinking that she had been alone, she spoke loud and harshly, “Hey! We're closed, you need to head out now.”

There was no response. She adjusted the black pleated skirt she had on which had twisted sideways around her hips again, then walked down and stood in front of him. His medium length hair was just slightly covering the side of his face down along his strong squared jaw. His breathing was calm and deep. She could tell that this guy wasn't going to be easily moved. ‘’Maybe,” she thought to herself, “if I let him rest a bit longer, he'll get sober enough to stand on his own two feet.”

Melody started working on wiping down bottles and coolers and then went around to the other side of the bar. She cleaned the chairs and moved in the direction of her sleeping guest. Studying him, she imagined the feeling of his hard body seeing his toned figure through the tight shirt. She shook her head as if it would get rid of the naughty thoughts and said aloud jokingly to herself, “Keep it in your pants, Melody.” He stirred and she tensed.