The Oenophile's Rosé

Amayra I felt his hand brushing against my ass again. It was clear that it wasn’t a coincidence. A sense of panicked disgust coursed through me. I clenched my fists at my sides and forced myself to act as though his touch had been accidental. Being rude or confrontational was not an option. I couldn't afford to lose my job as a waitress. So, I subtly moved away, bending over to place glasses on a nearby table. I had started working at this city's most expensive bar four months ago. It was a place where opulence and affluence reigned supreme. Only the wealthy and powerful frequented this establishment, which meant that the pay was ten times better than any other part-time job I had taken in the past. My shift here ran from eight PM to twelve AM. The job was great for my bank account, but it came with the downside of having to deal with a few customers that were nothing short of perverts that just happened to be dressed in expensive suits. Just like the man in the brown suit with curly hair. My silence seemed to only embolden him. The next thing I knew, I could feel his hand slowly lifting my skirt. Unable to tolerate it any longer, I gently removed his hand, swiftly placed the bottle of whisky on the table, and turned to face him with a forced smile. "Sir, please let me know if you need anything else." With that, I turned on my heels to leave at a normal pace. I could still feel his lecherous gaze lingering on my back. The dress code of this bar was already quite revealing, with a top that left little to the imagination and a black skirt that barely covered my upper thighs. My long legs and smooth skin were exposed for all to see. I made my way to the staff room, where the manager was instructing a new part-timer. "Vosco, I'm off," I announced to the manager. It was already midnight, time for my shift to be over. "Thank you for your patience and hard work. I noticed that Curly was bothering you again. I heard he's the son of a minister," he gossiped as he walked in my direction. "Oh," I mumbled as I went to my locker to retrieve my clothes. Judging by his attire and the way he spent money at the bar, I had already suspected that he was a spoiled brat. Most of my tips came from him, seeing as he always demanded my service. "Well, your salary for this month has already been transferred to your bank account," Vosco informed me. "Thank you!" I exclaimed. It was always the most anticipated day of the month. I entered the changing room with a smile. "What are your plans for tomorrow? It's the weekend, and it's your day off after all," Vosco asked. As I slipped into my jeans, I replied, "I'm moving into my boyfriend's place." "That's great news. Now I understand why you're working so hard. Living together, you two can share the rent," he remarked. though "Actually, I'm working hard to cover my tuition fees," I replied as I emerged from the changing room. "Luckily, I don't have to pay rent, even if it's not my place," I grabbed my purse and headed towards the door with a smile. "How is that possible?" Vosco asked, clearly puzzled. I paused at the door, looked back at him, and said, "It's my boyfriend’s uncle's apartment." With that, I smiled and left the bar. Once I returned home, I took a shower and climbed into bed while checking my boyfriend Chad's message. He had sent me the address of the apartment, which puzzled me. He was supposed to pick me up tomorrow morning. Confused, I decided to call him. "You're still picking me up tomorrow, right?" I asked. "Sorry baby. I forgot to tell you that the lease on my current place has been extended for another three weeks, so I have to live here for more days. I have to make an urgent visit to my family, so I can’t come and help you move in," he sighed in regret. "So, what should I do? I have to move out of this place tomorrow," I said, biting my lip in frustration. "Don't worry. That's why I sent you the address. You can move into the apartment before me. I'll join you there in three weeks," he explained. "How is this possible? It's your uncle's apartment, and I'm a total stranger… what if he…” Chad chuckled, "Did you forget that I told you my uncle rarely returns to his apartment? It's been empty for years, he's already given me permission to stay there. Don't worry so much. Just move in and wait for me. Finally, my dream of living with you is about to come true." I blushed at his statement, fully aware of what he was implying. We had decided to take our relationship to the next level and become physically intimate. Despite dating Chad for a year, we had yet to have sex, only sharing kisses. I wanted to be sure about our relationship and understand him better, he had respected my pace. Now, I felt ready for that next step. "Okay, I'll move in tomorrow. When will you return from visiting your parents?" I asked. "Probably in a day or two. I'll come to visit you as soon as I can," he assured me. We exchanged a few more words, then he said, "Love you." “Love you too,” I hung up the phone and drifted off to sleep. The next morning, I packed up all my belongings and vacated my old apartment, which had been quite expensive from the beginning. I had been searching for a more affordable living situation for some time. Fortunately, Chad had proposed that we live together a few months ago. As my belongings were loaded into the vehicle, it came to a halt in front of a ten-story building. The apartment where I was going to live was on the fifth floor. When I entered the apartment, I was left utterly speechless. It was a luxurious three-bedroom apartment equipped with all the modern facilities. As a college student, I couldn't even dream of affording a place like this. I left all my stuff in the living room and decided to take a tour of the apartment. To my surprise, it was remarkably neat and clean. One of the bedrooms was filled with furniture and other stuff. I liked the second one to live. However, one of the three bedroom doors was locked. "Why is this locked? Didn't Chad say no one lived here?" I mumbled to myself, feeling a bit confused. I decided not to pry the doors open, thinking it might be a jammed lock or something of the sort. After making a cup of coffee for myself, I moved into the other bedroom to start unpacking my stuff. I didn't have much in the way of belongings, but the process still took up the majority of my day. In the evening, I felt too lazy to cook, so I went to a nearby restaurant for dinner. After eating, I worked on my college assignments for a while then headed to bed. The bed was exceptionally soft and comfortable, so I happily hugged the pillow. I had quickly fallen in love with this apartment. I pondered that Chad's uncle must be quite well-off to own a place like this. It occurred to me that I had never asked Chad much about his uncle. The only information I had was that Chad had three uncles. I took another walk around the house and it struck me that there were no photographs of his uncle anywhere. There was only a large painting on the living room wall, and that was it. His uncle should be in his forties or fifties, right? My gaze returned to one of the closed doors, I contemplated it for a moment before dismissing any unrelated thoughts from my mind. I climbed back into bed and tried to get some rest. The next morning, I woke up quite late but in a good mood. As expected, I had had a great night's sleep in a comfortable bed. I made some sandwiches for myself, did some shopping, then left for work at the bar in the evening. The atmosphere in the bar was lively as usual. After changing into my work clothes, I started my routine rounds. Once again, I was expected to serve Curly. Observing that his attention was fixed on the girl dancing on the nearby pole, I quickly placed his drink on the table and tried to slip away unnoticed. "Where are you going?" Suddenly, I felt a strong hand grip my wrist as he tried to pull me back towards him. "Are you trying to run away? Come, sit with me and have a drink," he grinned, as if this were part of his daily routine. He would often cause a scene, insisting that I join him for a drink, but it was the first time he had grabbed my hand. I was taken aback and panicked by his sudden action. The overpowering smell of smoke and alcohol on his breath made me feel suffocated. "My apologies, sir, but I'm only allowed to serve drinks to customers. I can’t drink," I replied. "Come on, pleasing the customer is one of your duties," he said, stroking my hair. "I’m just a waitress, sir," I responded, gently pushing his hand away. "A few drinks wouldn't hurt. Come on," he insisted, trying to pull me into his seat. Panicking, I summoned all my strength to stay upright. "I'm sorry, sir, but I can't do that. It goes against the rules," I finally managed to free my wrist from his tight grip when he refused to listen. He turned to me, his face twisted in anger as he grabbed my hand again, "Is this how you serve customers? I'll complain to your manager..." he began yelling at me. I flinched, taking a few steps back in panic until I felt something hard behind me. That was odd, I was standing in the middle of the room, and there should have been no wall behind me. Curly's yelling suddenly stopped, and his angry expression instantly changed as he gazed at something behind me. His face turned pale. "Get the fuck out of my way," a deep, heavy voice echoed in my ears. I froze on the spot, but my back was still touching the person's hard chest. Was he talking to me? Then, I saw Curly immediately release my hand as he moved aside, retreating to his seat obediently, like a dog with its tail tucked between its legs. A palpably dangerous aura enveloped the bar, especially around me. My heart raced as I slowly turned to look over my shoulder. A tall handsome man dressed in black loomed over my 5.7-foot frame. His forest-green eyes locked onto my black ones, as if he could see into my soul. "Get me ice!" Curly suddenly barked, more of an angry yell than a request. I tilted my head to find Curly glaring at me. He looked insulted and furious. "Okay, sir," I nodded. "A bottle of Clos du Temple," the man clad in black ordered. His voice was deep and heavy, commanding. "Excuse me?" I looked at his face again. His fair smooth skin was almost ethereal, and there was a cut above his left eyebrow that gave him a dangerous yet incredibly attractive look. I had never encountered someone like him in my entire life; he was truly intimidating. "Get me some Clos du Temple," he ordered. "Oh, yes," I blushed and nodded. Had I been staring at him for too long like a creep? Oh, this was so embarrassing. "I'll get it right away, sir," I muttered, lowering my head, and attempting to pass by him. Only to halt at a sudden yell. "Hey! Get me my ice first!" Curly barked at me but stopped in mid sentence. Confused, I looked back at him, only to witness the man in black pouring wine over Curly's head directly from a bottle. Curly sat there in shock, just like the rest of the people in the bar. I held my breath, watching the scene unfold. For some reason, Curly seemed to be swallowing his anger and enduring humiliation. I followed his line of sight to find what looked like the outline of a gun in the man in black’s pants. My throat went dry. Was that… a gun? Curly broke into sweat and left the bar without looking back. The man in black glanced at me and said, "The rosé, please." I stared at him for a couple of seconds, processing the fact that he wanted my service? Where were the other waitresses? I discreetly looked around from the corner of my eye to find the other female waitresses keeping themselves busy, intentionally attending to other customers, their faces pale. Some even shot me apologetic smiles. It was evident that no one wanted to serve such a dangerous-looking customer. "Do I have to repeat myself?" the man in black raised an eyebrow at me. Startled, I swiftly brought my attention back to his emotionless eyes. "No, I'll get it for you right away, sir!" I exclaimed and turned quickly toward the counter. When I returned with a chill bucket, his requested bottle of rosé, and a glass on my tray, I found him sitting in a private VIP space upstairs. It was an open area where you could see every part of the bar, but no one could see you. I saw Vosco entering and greeting him. "I'll send the best bartender up tonight to personally serve you, sir," Vosco assured him. Carefully climbing the stairs with the tray, I found Vosco emerged from the private room and stopped me. "This customer appears to have a short temper and can be dangerous. I'll go and make other arrangements for him, just remember not to provoke him. Follow his orders quietly. If he gets offended then both of our jobs would be gone," he instructed me. I nodded obediently and entered. I glanced at the man in black from the corner of my eye. He sat alone, exuding a cold aura as he leaned against the sofa with the phone in his hand. Bending over to place the tray on a clear glass table, I picked up the bottle to quietly pour the rosé into his glass. He briefly tore his eyes from his phone screen and glanced at my cleavage. Then he took his time to inspect my exposed waist, long legs, and short skirt. "You have a nice figure," he suddenly remarked, putting his phone away. My hand, which was still holding the bottle of rosé paused as I looked up at his handsome face. I had never received a comment like that before in my life, not even from Chad. He appeared sincere when he said it. "Thank you," I couldn't help but blush at his bold compliment. "But there are other girls in the bar with slim figures and beautiful faces. I am a little cubby," I continued. Aside from waitresses and pole dancers, there were other women who provided sexual services to the customers. They were tall, skinny, and exceptionally attractive, they also received higher pay. "They excel at catering to men's preferences," I said with a slight smile. "I like meat on a woman’s bones," he replied bluntly, his expression unwavering. My cheeks burned at his words. This man... he was remarkably candid about his likes and dislikes, which contributed to the dark aura surrounding him. I averted my gaze and focused on pouring his drink. He gracefully lit a cigarette while I placed a glass of wine in front of him. "Please let me know if you need anything else I can get you, sir..." "An ashtray," he interrupted before I could finish speaking. I glanced at the glass table and noticed that the ashtray was indeed missing. Such carelessness could be seen as bad service, I might be held responsible. "My apologies. I'll bring one for you right away," I excused myself and hurried downstairs. However, just as I was about to leave, I saw Charlotte entering the VIP area seductively swaying her hips. She was a stunning and highly sought-after bar girl that only frequented the beds of the wealthiest men. So Vosco had arranged for Charlotte to attend to the man in black. I went downstairs to retrieve an ashtray but was hesitant to return to the VIP area. Who knew in what position or condition they would be at that moment? There have been times when I encountered people in intimate situations, I didn't want to risk offending or interrupting him if he was engaged in such activities. However, I had to deliver the ashtray, so I took a deep breath and lifted my legs to enter, only to be surprised by Charlotte's sudden return. She emerged from the VIP area with a red face and teary eyes. "What's wrong?" I asked, observing her as she adjusted her bra-like top and a very short skirt that barely covered anything. I hadn't expected her to leave so soon. “He kicked me out and called me flat!” she walked away angrily. “He wants someone with large boobs. He must be into tity fucking or something!” My eyes widened upon hearing that. He had called her flat? Charlotte indeed did not have large breasts. I bit my lips and looked straight ahead. From my vantage point, I could sense the tension in the private VIP room, and I knew I had to enter. As soon as I stepped into the room, I was struck by a dark and dangerous aura that filled the space. The man had closed his eyes and leaned back on the sofa, but his expressions and furrowed brows clearly indicated his foul mood. My throat constricted when my eyes fell on the shape of the gun concealed beneath the waistband of his pants. I wanted to leave as quickly as possible. "Sir..." I began, but he cut me off before I could say more. “Give it to me,” he ordered with closed eyes. I froze on the spot. Give him? What? I recalled Charlotte’s words about him wanting large boobs for tity fuck. He wanted me to… My face instantly turned red. I had never done such a thing before. Before I could open my mouth to explain, he said. "Why are you still standing there?" he opened his eyes, his gaze dark and intense. "Give it to me. I have no patience left." I was startled by his commanding voice. Was he… was he so hard that he couldn't wait any longer? My eyes briefly darted to his pants to see his hardness, but I once again only noticed the shape of the gun. It felt like he might draw his gun and make a hole between my head if I made him repeat himself. "O… okay," I stammered, nodding quickly. I approached him, recalling the manager's instructions not to anger him. Unsure of what to do, I followed the actions of a bar girl I had seen serving a customer. I walked to the sofa and knelt on the ground between his legs, my breasts partially exposed due to my revealing top. My face turned bright red with embarrassment as he looked at me. As I assumed this position, a heavy silence settled in the room, and the man in black stared at me blankly for a few seconds. My heart raced as I felt his intense gaze, then he gently lifted my chin with the hand that still held his cigarette. Leaning in close to my face, he said, "I was asking for an ashtray. I didn't know you were planning to surprise me."