The soft hum of a neon sign buzzed outside the window, casting a pale, bluish glow into the dimly lit bar. The hotel was quiet, the kind of place where the echo of footsteps felt intrusive. At this hour, past midnight, the lobby was deserted, the front desk clerk nodding off behind the counter. The bar itself was small, tucked away in the corner of the hotel—a refuge for the few souls not quite ready to face the silence of their rooms.

An older man sat at the far end of the counter, his shoulders slightly hunched, the weight of years pressing down on him. His hands, weathered and speckled with age spots, rested around a half-empty tumbler of whiskey. The amber liquid shimmered faintly in the light of the bar’s hanging lamps. He stared into the glass as if searching for something long lost in its depths.

The bartender, a young woman with tired eyes, wiped down the counter absentmindedly. She glanced at the old man occasionally, her gaze filled with the kind of quiet respect reserved for people who carry their solitude with grace. She’d seen him before, always at this hour, always at this stool. He was a fixture in the bar, like the worn leather stools or the faded pictures on the walls.

He took a slow sip, the warmth of the whiskey spreading through his chest. His mind drifted, not to anything specific, but to the weight of memories. He thought of long roads, of places he’d been and people he’d known. Some were still alive in his heart; others were just shadows now, fading with time. The bar, this lonely, quiet place, was a sanctuary—a place where the world outside couldn’t reach him, where he didn’t have to keep up with the relentless pace of life.

Outside, the rain began to tap softly against the window, a gentle rhythm that matched the slow beating of his heart. The old man sighed, lifting the glass one more time. The bartender watched as he drained it, set it down carefully, and then met her eyes for the first time that night. A faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Another?” she asked softly.

He looked up and noticed her for the the first time. She stood behind the bar, a confident smirk playing at the edges of her lips, her dark eyeliner sharp enough to match the glint in her eyes. She wasn’t the type to blend in. A short leather skirt hugged her hips, paired with fishnet stockings that peeked out from beneath. Her shirt, snug and low-cut, had the faint outline of a lace bra visible if you looked long enough. A small silver ring pierced her nose, and a few tattoos danced up her arms—intricate, suggestive designs that invited curiosity without giving everything away.

———-

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Kinks: bi, femdom, threesome, strapon, rough sex.