7. Open Mouth, Insert Vodka

She rested her elbows against the bar and leaned closer to me. I was mesmerized by her eyes. They looked like pools of Hershey's chocolate syrup. It was her. All these years and I could finally see her face. She was just as stunning as I remembered.

"I've been looking everywhere for you," I said.

She laughed and goose bumps rose on my arms. I remember that laugh; it was like music to my ears. She reached across the top of the bar and ran her hand down my arm and rested it on top of my own.

"Do your shot glasses usually talk to you?" she asked with a smile.

"Wait, you're the girl from the bar," I said in confusion.

"Am I?" she asked with a smirk.

She leaned completely across the top of the bar and pressed her cheek to mine, her lips close to my ear.

"Ask me what my favorite movie is," she whispered.

I turned my head and slid my nose against her cheek. She still smelled like chocolate. But that didn't make sense. Someone started knocking on the door to the bar and she pulled away and whipped her head around in that direction. She started backing up as the banging continued.

"Wait! Don't go. Just tell me your name," I pleaded.

She kept backing away and I stared at her face, memorizing every single detail: brown eyes, thick chestnut hair, full-heart-shaped lips, and a dimple on each cheek.

That's what the girl from the bar looked like. But this one had the same eyes and the same voice as MY girl. What the hell is going on?

"Please, tell me your name!" I yelled after her.

I jerked awake to the sound of banging and my heart pounding like I just ran a marathon. I slid my hand through my hair and flopped back down, trying to remember what I had just been dreaming about. It was right there at the edge of my consciousness but I just couldn't grasp onto it. There was something I needed to remember about that dream. I closed my eyes and tried to bring it back. The silence lasted for two seconds before the pounding against my front door started again and interrupted my thoughts.

"SHUT THE FUCK UP!" I screamed at the incessant banging, irritated that I couldn’t make myself remember.

Oh, sweet Jesus, I am never drinking again.

I have the weirdest dreams every f**king time I drink. Why the hell can't I remember this one? I picked up a pillow from next to me and hugged it against my ears, trying to muffle the sound of my door being kicked in.

"Open the door, goat-fucker!" Drew’s muffled yell shouted as he continued to pound his fist against my front door. I know if I don't get up, he'll keep making noise and then I'd have to kill him.

The banging continued as I sat up, threw the covers off angrily and stumbled through the rental house with my eyes closed. I still had boxes of shit all over the place that I had yet to unpack and I kicked them angrily out of the way as I went. I made it to the front door without breaking any limbs and flung it open with an angry growl.

"Holy shit, dude, you don't look so hot," Drew said as he shouldered his way past me and into my house, wearing one of his signature t-shirts. I swear this guy owned at least two-hundred-and-fifty of these things. Today's shirt said "I pooped today".

"Sure, come on in Drew," I muttered to myself as I slammed the door shut and followed him to the living room. "You totally interrupted a good dream I was having. At least I think it was a good dream, I can't remember."

"Were you dreaming about the hot bartender you couldn't stop drooling over last night?" he asked with a laugh.

"Funny," I deadpanned as I leaned against the doorway and crossed my arms in front of me.

"If only I were kidding, dude. Her friend with the blonde hair asked me if you rode the short bus to the bar after you picked up your beer and poured it down the front of your shirt instead of your mouth—which was wide open staring at the bartender's ass.

Wow, definitely not one of my better nights.

"Maybe I should go up there and apologize to…."

Shit, I was drawing a blank.

"Yet another girl whose name you didn't get." Drew finished. "At least this time we know where she works. This place is a f**king mess," he said as he shoved boxes away with his foot so he could make his way over to the couch.

"Did you just come over here to insult me, or is there a reason for this early morning visit?"

"Early? It's twelve-thirty, dumb ass. We've got orientation at one," he said as he slid a box of books over and flopped down on the couch.

"SHIT! Are you kidding me?" I yelled as I ran into the kitchen, tripping over boxes along the way. Sure enough, the clock on the microwave read twelve-thirty-four. Fucking hell. I do not need to be late for orientation at the new plant. I pulled the front of my t-shirt up over my nose, took a whiff and cringed. I smelled like a distillery.

I ran to the bathroom and took the fastest shower known to man and threw on a clean long-sleeved t-shirt and pair of jeans. Drew broke every speed limit, and we managed to get to the Butler Automotive Plant with five minutes to spare.

The plant was closed for production on Sundays, so our small group of transfers were the only people that would be here today. There were about twenty of us that transferred from different plants around the United States and would start working tomorrow. All of the plants ran basically the same way, so we wouldn't need to learn how to do our jobs or anything. We would just get all of our paperwork to fill out for Human Resources and watch a few videos about the history of the company and about how you shouldn't sexually harass your co-workers. The latter was always our favorite. It was the same video they've been showing for over thirty years that they recorded back in the seventies and it was set to porno music. Getting a group of rowdy, blue-collar workers together in one room and putting in a tape that shows a guy in a leisure suit putting his hand on his secretary's ass and you've got complete and total anarchy, ladies and gentlemen.

We walked through the employee entrance to the plant and went into a conference room right by the door. Drew and I signed our names in to the attendance log hanging on the door and took a seat at one of the tables towards the back of the room. We looked around at all of the other people that would be starting with us, seeing if we recognized anyone.

"So, what kind of a douche bag do you think our foreman will be?" Drew said in a low voice. A guy sitting on the other side of Drew leaned forward and spoke before I could answer.

"He's actually an okay guy. He's been here for about twenty years and as long as you don't f**k up, he leaves you alone to do your work. I'm Jim Gilmore," the guy said, holding his hand out for us to shake while Drew provided the introductions.

"Hey, man, I'm Drew Parritt and this is Carter Ellis."

We each shook his hand while Drew kept talking.

"So how long have you worked here?"

"Only a few months. My fiancé and I just moved here from Toledo," he said.

"Seriously? That's where we just moved from. We worked at the Toledo Automotive Plant and got relocated here," I explained.

Jim laughed. "Small world I guess. My fiancé is originally from Butler and we met in college at The University of Ohio. She wanted to move back here as soon as we graduated, so here we are.”

“Hey, we went to a party one weekend there. Gee, Carter, you probably don’t remember that party, do you?” Drew asked sarcastically, knowing full well just how much I remembered about that party.

“Shut up, asshole,” I grumbled. “So Jim, how come you had to come to orientation today?”

“They suckered me into coming to give you guys a tour of the plant when it's over and introduce you to your foreman."

"As long as he leaves me alone and doesn't ride my ass, we'll get along just fine," Drew said.

"I thought you liked it when big, burly men rode your ass," I joked.

"You must have me confused with you and that new va**na you grew. Remind me again when the last time it was you got laid? Because I'm pretty sure I got my dick wet last night while you barked like a dog and passed out in the parking lot."

"I don't think I'd be bragging about tapping some girl's ass that has a meat-product nickname for her vagina," I reminded him.

"Yeah, that wasn't really my finest hour. I'm so disappointed in myself I can practically taste it."

"Does it taste like semen?" I asked.

"Fuck you. She wasn't a dude," Drew replied, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms in front of him.

"Jim, please tell me you know some hot girls," Drew begged.

He let out a chuckle. "You might be in luck boys; my fiancé has a few single friends."

"Don't worry about the pu**y here to the right of me," Drew said while Jim took a drink of his bottled water. "He's been hung up on a one-night-stand he had five years ago with a girl that smelled like Cocoa Puffs."

Jim spit out some of his water and started choking on the rest. Drew had to reach over and pat him on the back. After he recovered, he sat there staring at me funny.

What the f**k is up with people staring at me lately? Last night at the bar and now today. There was something wrong with the people in this town.

Just then, one of the supervisors walked in and shoved the sexual harassment video into the machine. Everyone started clapping and cheering as soon as the music started.

"Why don't you guys come over tonight for dinner and some drinks," Jim said over the rowdy employees as he started to turn back around to face the front of the room. "My fiancé can see if you guys are worthy enough for her friends," he said with smirk.

***

"Hey, Claire, does this lube really taste like strawberry cheesecake?"

"Um, sure," I replied.

"Does the Jack Rabbit hit your g-spot or do I need to get something else for that?"

"Are you sure this massage oil candle burns cool? The last time my boyfriend and I tried hot oil his penis got second degree burns."

Kill me. Just kill me right now.

"Where exactly do you put the c**k ring on a guy? We must not have put it in the right spot because after a few minutes it got lost in my vagina. That was an awkward emergency room trip, let me tell you."

I'm going to lose my shit if someone asks me one more f**king question that I can't answer. That's all anyone has been doing for the last half hour. FUCK! These people need to just buy something already and quit talking to me.

"Do you let a guy use a vibrator on you? I've heard that's really hot."

"Okay look," I shouted, holding my hands up so they'd shut their yaps. "I have zero experience with any of this shit. I'm only doing this as a favor to my friend so I can make some extra money for my new business. I have had exactly one and a half sexual partners in my life and they were both pretty shitty experiences. The first one was in college and we were both completely trashed, I never got his name and he knocked me up. The next one was a friend of mine, and I decided to try it again and see if got any better. His dad had a key to his house and walked in on us two thrusts in, which completely killed any mood that might have been started. I've decided that my va**na is cursed. My orgasms have all been self-induced and have never been with anything that required batteries, a special cleaner, instructions or a weapon of mass destruction warning. If you want to place an order, I'll be in the kitchen. Try the chocolate-covered potato chips."

I turned and stalked out of the room and straight into the kitchen. Where was a giant, gaping hole in the floor to swallow you up when you needed one? Every woman in there was probably talking about what a loser I was and how they were going to tell everyone they knew to never do business with us. Shit, Liz was going to fire me. I was going to have to tell people I got fired from selling dildos. I can't even sell fake cocks to a room full of horny women. How do you come back from that shit? And on top of it all, I just spilled my deepest, darkest secrets to a room full of strangers.

"Oh, honey, you poor thing," Jenny said as she hurriedly walked into the kitchen and threw her arms around me. One thing new people learned about me real quick - don't invade my personal space or you will get punched in the neck.

I stood there stiff as a board with my arms out to the side. I don't understand huggers. I really don't. A nice, solid pat on the back worked just fine.

"I'm buying you a Jack Rabbit," Jenny proclaimed.

"Whoa, no, really that's okay," I tried to argue as I pulled out of the hug. That thing scared the shit out of me. Four speeds, ears and beads that spun around. You should have to get a permit from the city to even power that thing up.

After several minutes of cajoling, Jenny managed to pull me back into the living room, and after she announced that she was going to buy me a toy, the whole room erupted in agreement. Much to my mortification, all of them began commenting to one another about what they were going to buy me. I had to draw the line when they started talking about throwing me a Vibrator Virgin party. I heard the words penis-shaped ice cubes and penis pasta salad, and I started getting a headache from hell. Any moment now they were all going to join hands and sing Kumbaya to my vagina—my poor, unloved va**na that never knew the pulsating touch of a rubber penis. I'm sorry vagina, I should have taken better care of you, I guess.

At the end of the show, I sold twice as much as normal because everyone bought two of everything, one for them and one for me. If my va**na wasn't covered in cotton and jeans, it might have taken offense to their looks of pity. I swore as they all placed their orders they looked down between my legs. Now, I know how chicks with huge boobs feel when a guy won't look you in the eyes.