*daniel gillies as Oliver Brady*
Woman were two-faced bitches. Oliver Brady concluded as he entered the bar. It's not like he misinformed Aurora Brady about the town they're living together in. He had told her it was a smaller town than what she was comfortable with, but the people were great and the income was much more profitable than any other teaching positions anywhere near their old home. He remembers vividly the way she nodded and smiled, pressing Coco, their chihuahua, harder into her chest and said, 'I can't wait to have a fresh start! '
However, now, as they settled in their large home, taking care of their very small dog, she wants to bicker about being so far away from her parents. Two hours of arguing and dodging questions he knew very well not to answer, he got out of their home and found himself at Joe's Bar, just near the center of the town. It was rather ugly as he became more aware of it. Mahogany swarmed the entire bar, a rich florescent lighting making the complexion of the wood with a tangy orange. There were a few seating areas spread throughout the area. A pool table at the very end, a couple of older men booming with laughter and yelling out something to slurred to be comprehendible to Oliver. There was a karaoke machine being held by a drunk old man, singing something Oliver hasn't heard since he was a child. He breathed a laugh as he sat on the stools at the bar itself.
The bartender had to be in her fifties, but her tight skin and fresh face knocked her down about ten years. "Just a minute, sugar." The woman called out before diving back into a discussion with a group of men about something that sounded a lot like politics. Oliver nodded sarcastically, before sighing and taking a closer look around. He noticed a few heads of stuffed animals hanging on the very top of the walls, expensive china placed in cabinets, and the bathroom sign near the pool table. Nonetheless, something caught his eyes just then. Dark, icy black hair was smoothly draped over her shoulders and brushed her chest. Not very generous, but proportionally acceptable with a firm shape that fit her pale figure. She wore a strapless, black cocktail dress that stopped mid-thigh, teasing very closely towards her ass. She looked no more than in her early-twenties. She appeared to be the only youthful thing in this outdated bar.
She leaned forward, charcoal eyes intense and focused as she aimed toward the white ball. Meanwhile, men behind her were distracted entirely as they leaned back slightly to observe her position. Oliver's brows furrowed in disgust. The girl however didn't seem to pay attention, just smiled with triumph as the ball connected with all the others and shot into the holes. "And that's," She said. "How you play pool."
"Yur sure no how to play pool." One of them slung his arm over her shoulder. Her eyes flashed with irritation yet she laughed---something tells Oliver that it wasn't an authentic one. He brought his attention back to the bartender when she patted his hand. She wore too much blue eyeliner and her cherry red lipstick was smeared at the very corner. "What can I get for you, sugar?"
"Um," He looked behind her, admiring all the variety of liqueurs lined up on the counter. "What's the blue one?"
"Yuck," A highly feminine voice said behind her. When Oliver looked over to his left side, the girl in the short cocktail dress sat beside him. "Gin is not your thing, trust me. How do you feel about Brandy?"
Oliver never was much of a drinker, but he remembered his father-in-law pouring him a glass of Brandy and nodded. "Yeah," She said, a slight smile on her face. "You look like a Brandy guy."
"Don't scare the poor boy," The older woman smiled. Oliver frowned once more, he was anything but a boy. He was older than the girl by ten or thirteen years. "What do you want, Lolita?"
"Jack Rose, please. Oh, Sheila, make the Brandy just like how I like it, yeah?" 'Lolita' said, then looked over to Oliver. "This old bat has got magic hands, I swear. Can make anything from anywhere and it'll taste like Jesus."
"Can't wait to taste Jesus." Oliver said, and her smile widened. He had to admit that throughout his years of teaching she had to be one of the alluring girls he's seen in a long time. Even when the cheerleaders did indeed look great---nothing trumps this girl. She was fascinated at the very glance. He would't use the word pretty to describe her. Even though, yes; she was quite pretty, but not pretty the way other girls were. Striking---is the word he'd describe her. Her charcoal, black eyes were daring, and mischievous by the very quirk on the tip of her cat-like eyes. Her lips were thick, and wider than any of her features but suited her heart-shaped face well. Looking at her almost could make him forget the argument he had with Aurora.
"Here you go," Shiela said, sliding him a glass as well as Lolita's. "Enjoy." She disappeared, moving on towards new customers--but wasn't exactly new because once she saw them she dived into another conversation. Oliver took a sip from his drink--the warm liquor and sour lemon mixing surprisingly well down his throat. He swore there was a swivel of cherry in there somehow. "Wow."
"I know, right." The young girl said beside him. "Put some brandy, a little of cherry liqueur, and a tad of lemon juice and it's the most magnificent thing. Here, try mine. It's a little sweeter." She slides him the drink and he took a slight sip. Taste of tangy apples savored in his tongue. "In case you're wondering, applejack, lime juice, and grenadine."
"You know your shit." Oliver handed it back to her.
"I like my alcohol," She said, watching him. He could see himself through her eyes. He seemed tired, and disheveled. "You're new here, aren't you?"
"Am I that easy to read?" He asked, sourly taking a gulp of his alcohol.
"You just don't have that small town look. That's all," She replied. "And, we hardly get strangers in this bar. Everyone knows everyone here."
"Do they know you?"
"Of course, Lolita Bennet."
"Oliver Brady," He said, giving his hand. She shook it. "Pleasure."
"Pleasure's all mine." She simply said, but he could not miss the flirtatious tone in her voice. He could've told her that very moment he was married---but he didn't, and he didn't understand why. "So, what brings you to Joe's Bar?"
"Can't a man get a drink without being questioned?" He teased, but he could tell through her eyes the lie was not so smooth as he hoped it'd be.
"Nah, if men wanted to drink they'd go into their cabinets and pull out their favorite bottle of Scotch, then beat their wife."
"I only beat puppies."
She laughed. "Of course, I should've known there was something strange about you."
After a few silent seconds, he gave in. Not because he wanted her to think bad for him, or to send the message across, but because he really couldn't hold in the twist in his gut anymore. Oliver doesn't consider himself a violent person. He'd prefer the term passionate, and tonight he was quite passionate about his fiancee. "A woman." He simply said.
"Isn't it always?" She giggled slightly. "Let me guess, your wife?"
"Ah," She simply said, taking a quick gulp of her drink. "Woman can be difficult--some more than others. However, she'll get over it, I guess. All women do."
"How about you?" He asked, waving at Sheila with a finger. She took the signal, and was working on another Brandy. "Are you difficult?"
"I'm too much like the water," Lolita exclaimed. "I go wherever the flow takes me."
"Then I guess I am." She responded, a wicked look on her face.
"It's just," He said. Finally allowing the irritation to surface out. "I don't understand her, you know? She had not always been on my back twenty-four-seven. She had not always been cranky or moody. She didn't want love one moment and the next wanted me to leave her alone with Coco--"
"----Our chihuahua---and that fucking runt, I swear. I wanted a fucking German Shepard, but we had to get that--that thing. It hates my guts. It doesn't let me near my own fiancee when I want to fucking be with her. She barks all day and shivers when she's about to take a piss."
"Like daughter like mother." Lolita mumbled, sipping her drink.
"The reason I just wanted to marry her was because she was beautiful, low maintenance, and fun. Now, it's always about going to Bed Bath & Beyond to go look at sheets and going to different wedding planners and tasting cake. Who gives a fuck about what the cake tastes like?"
"It sounds like you're just bored."
He was, extremely. Educating high-schoolers was anything but fun. Always having to deal with that one fucking kid who doesn't give a rats ass about his education and coming home to wife who takes three hour baths and refuses for him to enter when he has to take a piss and only wants to go to Panera when he wants to take her out for dinner. "You're right. I'm just so fucking bored."
"How's the sex?" She asked. Sheila came around and slid his second drink.
He barked a laugh---it was far from humorous. "Sex----what sex? I haven't had sex in three months."
It was Lolita's turn to laugh. "Three months? You poor soul, what have you been doing to her."
"Sleeping," A smile forming on his own mouth. All of this was so fucking hilarious. "And cuddling."
"Oh, no!" She laughed. "Not the cuddling!"
"Yes," He said, a deep chuckle coming from his own lips. "Hours of it."
"Was the sex good before?"
He thought about it. It was still fun--but now that he really put his mind to it, it was never really exciting. He remembers his college buddies talking about how kinky their dates could get and he'd nod and laugh--but never relating to any of their stories. That passionate, wild sex was something he seemed to have never experienced before. "Not in any way, you'd think it's good."
He scoffed. "You're the younger generation," He said. "Everyone's experimenting with everything nowadays."
"You talk like you're sixty."
"I'm thirty-eight," He said. "I practically am."
She shrugged, leaning in closer. He couldnot help notice her chest, her cleavage clear in his view. "I don't know about that," She murmured. "I've fucked a few guys your age and it turned out to be the best sex I've ever had."
His eyes widened at that confession. "Shouldn't you be having sex with people your own age?"
"Sure," She hung around. "The immature. Inexperienced twenty-five year old who have no idea what they're doing. Yeah, I'd totally do that."
He tried to think of a way to respond to this, but when he found no way to reply he decided it was probably best not. This was a dangerous conversation to have--one that could lead to a very grave decision that'll get him in a lot of trouble. "I don't think this is something we should be talking about."
"Why not?" She asked, her dark lipstick was distracting his eyes. "You were just talking about how fucking bored you are with your fiancee, and probably your career. I can help by fucking the bored out of you." She smiled when he is face was expressionless, intimidating, and defensive. Speaking about an affair instead of actually doing it never led to a good conversation.
"I'm about to be married," He responded. "And you're practically a child."
"What she doesn't know woould not hurt her," She said. "And I sure as hell don't fuck like one."
His eyes hardened and his lip tightened. "Fine, my cars out in the parking lot. It's the white BMW. I'll be waiting in the back and if you're not there in fifteen minutes then the message is clear. " She got up, dropping a crispy fifty on the counter. Just before she left, she pressed her thick lips by his ear. "See you soon, Daddy."
A/N (Fuck, Daniel Gillies is hot as hell. He can have me whenever oml XDDDDDDDD If he's forty, I'm forty. Yo, fr fr I had the perfect gif for this and Idk how to paste it on here so I'll just put it on my wall post, yeah? Go look at it) ik this isn't exactly teacher/student role-play but just give it a few chapters ok? and if you're here for the sex don't worry the next chapter is all about it.