Bottom's Up

Tuesdays at a bar were never busy, but still Moira thought there should be more people about. It was dim and rainy outside, the kind of weather that made one want to go out and drink or else snuggle in at home. As she had spent most of the day working at home, a perfectly thrilling exercise, Moira decided to go out. There weren't many places open, true, but she was happy for this one--a new bar at the end of her block called Spiral's.

As she shook the last drops of rain free from her umbrella, Moira couldn't help but think about how empty the place was. It was new, and it always took time for word of mouth to spread, but still. Nobody? The place looked a little eclectic, but no more so than the dozen or so bizarrely themed speakeasies popping up all over the place these days. It was certainly instagrammable, sticking to its theme of spirals on the lamps, coasters, stools. Behind the bar where a giant, polished metal spiral slowly clockwise, encouraging a second, longer look.

It was while she had been staring at that spiral that Moira found herself surprised by the bartender appearing from a small door behind the bar. Moira blinked, shook herself, and smiled a quick welcome. The smile stuck--the bartender was stunning. The dim light of the bar complimented her shocking red hair and accentuated the tight, curving lines of her outfit. She was dressed far more formally than Moira thought necessary for a bar like this: white shirt and vest sporting an on-theme spiral lapel pin with the gold chain of a pocket watch just vanishing into a pocket. When she waved back at Moira, her hands flashed with a myriad of eye-catching, bejeweled rings. She looked to be about Moira's age, mid-twenties, with a shimmer in her green eyes almost as ensnaring as the spiral.

"Oh finally, someone to liven up the place!" the bartender said. "I'm Lana! You?"

"M-Moira," Moira said. She tried to find her mind. "Slow night?"

"And then some," Lana said, setting a full glass of water on a spiraled coaster in front of the seat Moira almost hadn't realized she'd been taking. "It's expected, really. But I'm hoping people are talking about us! Course the weather hasn't helped."

"It sucks out there!" Moira said. "I live just up the road and the walk nearly soaked me through."

"Poor dear." Lana's voice was melodic, her words comforting without a hint of condescension. There was an almost lyrical quality to her accent, which Moira couldn't place. It made her want to pay more attention to figure it out, though. That it was easy to listen to helped some, too. "Sounds like you need something to warm you up! What's your poison?"

"Oh, I don't know..." Moira peered behind Lana, eyes scanning the rows of bottles. There were no labels she recognized. Only more spirals, swaying in the light. "I'm a gin girl most nights."

Gin!" Lana clapped her hands together, momentarily snapping Moira out of herself and focusing her attention back on her and her shocking green eyes. "Night like this is great for a martini, and it's gin you want and you want it stirred, despite what Mr. Bond James Bond says."

"I never knew what that was about," Moira said.

"Oh but it's so fascinating! Do you mind if I nerd a bit? I love this stuff."

"Beats thinking about work."

Lana's smile grew.

"There's a good girl," she said. "You like gin because gin actually has flavor, and when you shake a gin, you're damaging it. Disturbing the botanicals, my mentor used to say. No one wants that. You taste less, you smell less, it's terrible. Why order one? Get vodka instead."

Lana laughed as Moira made what her friends called her 'vodka face.'

"Not a fan?"

"No," Moira said. "Not since college."

"Fair, fair. Mine was Jameson."

"Really? I love a shot after some bullshit."

"Can't touch the stuff, even smell it." Lana reached behind her and took out a martini glass, a stirring glass, a jigger, and a bottle of gin. "But we're talking gin, and stirring. You have to be gentle with gin. Easy like. Shake it all up and it gets hurt and confused. We don't want that, right?"

Moira shook her head, unsure of what she could add to the conversation. Monologue? She relaxed a little in her chair, putting her chin on one hand and her elbow on the bar. Lana was really into this, she could tell. The easy cadence to her voice as she spoke was infectious. Moira smiled a little. It helped she was pretty, that she was giving Moira her full attention. It wasn't that Moira wasn't used to that, but it was pleasant all the same. Easy to relax and listen to the gentle voice, to the sound of the gin pouring into the glass just so--

"...easy, like," Lana said, finishing her pour with a flourish of her ringed fingers. "Now, a martini is not a martini without some vermouth, which is just wine with some sweetener and herbs and stuff. A little helps lift the drink, brighten it some. Aw, long day?"

Moira covered her mouth, embarrassed by her sudden yawn.

"And dull," she said.

"What do you do for work?" Lana asked.

"Data something or other," Moira said, waving her hand about. "Not as interesting as this."

"I'm so glad you think it's interesting!" Lana said, brightening as though she was the thing full of vermouth. "But I haven't even gotten started yet. We gotta talk dilution. See, we got two things in here that are different. Gin and vermouth, like stress and relaxation, oil and water, thoughts and mindlessness. We can't have that, we gotta combine them. We do that with some ice."

Lana scooped some out from under the bar and dumped it into the glass. The moment she did, Moira eye's snapped wide. The mixing glass had been perfectly placed under a lamp which she now realized also had a spiral pattern on its bulb, rotating slowly. When the ice sloshed into the liquid, it sent miniature spirals out, scattered like a disco ball, onto the bar and across the room and into Moira's staring, transfixed eyes. She felt herself dazzled, everything paused for a moment.

"Isn't that gorgeous?" Lana asked.

"Yes..." Moira said, her voice feeling distant.

"Yeah," Lana said. "Now look closer, see the little bit of meltwater coming off before I even get to stirring? That's right--lean in. Get a good look, good girl. Isn't it pretty?"

"Yeah." Moira leaned forward, balancing herself on her arms. The weariness of the day hit her all at once. She folded her arms on the bar and leaned closer still, resting her chin after another yawn. "It's pretty."

"It's so pretty," Lana said, leaning back. She slid the long barspoon into the mixing glass with a flair of panache and spoke while she started stirring. "I love watching a martini stirred, because it's clear so you can see everything even as the glass gets all frosty. You can hear it, too, that music trickling out from the ice and the gin and the vermouth swirling around and around and around. It's so much prettier, the noise, with the gentle rain outside and with how still the bar is, with my voice guiding it and you. Everything quiet, pleasant, tinkling away and away... Shoving out anything else you may hear or think about and helping you focus."

Moira dreamily nodded again. She hadn't really thought about the sound, hadn't been much paying attention to anything except Lana's voice. It flowed as easily as the drink in the glass, smooth as the gin Moira didn't mind waiting to drink at this point. She had wanted a distraction from work, and this was perfect. It was gentle and soft and... she yawned again. So easy to watch and listen...

"...to the stirring, and my voice. Staring at the sparkly flecks in the glass, the swirling, endless motion. Stirring a drink like this is so gentle and relaxing, mesmerizing almost, you know?"

Moira could only nod.

"There we go," Lana said, the smile audible in her voice. "There're two important things happening in here. The mixing I talked about--that swirling. Swirly, spinning around and around and endlessly going on and on and just almost like it's pulling all your focus in and adding it to the drink too. Think back, if you can. All of it together, tiredness and relaxation and mindlessness and thinking and it's all becoming one because of the mixing, and my voice. Your thoughts, your worries getting drawn out and in and spinning around and around. Mixing together with my voice until you can't tell one from the other, like how you can't tell the vermouth from the gin when I'm done with it. Becoming one, and you're too tired to care, I think. That's alright. Tired... such a long day. You need this drink and you need me to make it and to make it I need you to listen and let me spin all your thoughts about until they're my voice and they're the same and that's going to feel so good. Look forward to that. Feel better. Feel sleepier. You can let your eyes rest, let your mind rest and prepare because this is going to be so, so good for you, this drink. Hard day, long day... now just here alone and relaxed and watching this pretty, pretty martini get made. You're learning so much! You hear and listen and absorb it all so easily, Moira. Still listening?"

Moira's eyes dropped. "Uh-huh," she mumbled.

Lana's stirring slowed.

"Of course you are, good girl. You're doing so well. Okay, so, the second thing happening here is that the drink's getting cold. It's adding viscosity, which I know is a big hard word right now, so let me explain. Things... slow... down... when they get cold... and they get thick. So, think!" Lana laughed, and Moira felt herself smiling along. "If your thoughts are in here, in the drink, I wonder how cold and slow they're getting. Sloshing about this way and that in this endless, endless spiral. Like all the spirals around you, around us. Becoming one. Already one with my voice, and now one with the spiral and the cold and the steadiness. Slowing down... mixing altogether. I don't know if you can even tell one apart from the other. You don't want to. Feels too good when they're just all a blur. A shiny blur so gentle like this, going round and round and impossible to look away or separate them anymore. A seamless, perfect drink. A pretty, empty head... Or not empty. Full of my voice? My voice your thoughts? All the same now... wouldn't you say?"

Moira felt a trickle of drool from the side of her mouth and also found herself unable to wipe it away. There was no telling anything from anything, her thoughts from the glass from the spinning from the voice. Lana's voice. Lana the one stirring the drink, talking her through how to make it, how to... how to...

"...slip deeper and deeper under the spell of this drink, of my voice. Gin is intoxicating, too. Makes you so, so silly. Do you feel a little silly thinking about what drinking is like?"

Moira giggled.

Lana laughed along with her. It was so playful, Moira thought or thought she thought or... or...

"There's a good girl... fading away now. Everything so sluggish and so gentle. Easy, like?"

"Easy..." Moira managed.

"So easy. So gentle. I think we're almost done with this drink, don't you? Everything's all mixed together, all your thoughts and worries and the gin and vermouth and my voice and your mind. So when I pour them into this glass, they'll all be in there too. Makes sense?"

Moira's head fell sideways on her arms.

"Perfect," Lana said. "It really is so easy to follow, you know. Here I go..." Lana slid a strainer on top of the mixing glass and poured the martini into its glass, speaking the while. "Following the everything altogether into the glass... so easy. Look at how it catches the light, how thick it is. Like your mind, like my voice. The same, all mixed together in the glass now. It just needs a little garnish. I like lemon in my martini. A spritz, a flash of that oil. Can you smell it? You want to smell it. Listen to me... prove my voice is your thoughts. You obey so well now, good girl. One big, deep breath!"

Moira inhaled through her nose, the sweet and tangy aroma of the fresh lemon peel working through her. For a moment, she seemed to rise out of the swirly, thick, pretty fog her mind sloshed about it. She smiled. It did smell...

"...so good," Lana said. She raised the martini glass. "Well, bottoms up!"

In a flash, Lana drained the martini before Moira's eyes. Moira started, jerked up as if waking from a sudden deep, unexpected sleep. She wiped her cheek, blinked as she cleared her head. Tried to. Tried to because... She blinked again. Lana had a fresh mixing glass ready before her, the crystal etchings catching the light of the lamps above the bar. The spirals. The everything Moira found so pretty. Her mind paused for just a moment, and in that second Lana's smile grew wide.

"Take a deeper look," she said. "You came up a little, and it's time to drop again. It's so easy, good girl, right? Listen to me... Remember? My voice, your thoughts. All mixed together, can't tell one from the other. Let me guide you. Let me take you. Easy and gentle and you obey because it feels good. I'm making one for you now. Just for you. You should pay attention, and it's so easy right?"

Moira blinked, and leaned in again.

"Easy..." she whimpered, her mind spinning with the light in the glass as Lana measured more gin out and got ready to make another drink, just for--

"...you," Lana said, her voice gentle and cooing while at the same time swift and intoxicatingly easy to listen to. To get lost in. It was easy for Moira to get lost in Lana's voice because... "...your thoughts were in that drink, right? Your thoughts and my voice are all together, inside me. Your thoughts, all swirly and slow and cold and now they're all mine, inside me! I drank up your mind, just like that. Made them one and the same and all mine. All your worries, everything. Now we gotta fill you back up right? Yes..."

"Yes..." Moira repeated, her brow furrowing a little. She didn't, couldn't, quite get a fix on what she was agreeing to. It was hard when--

"...I start stirring again," Lana said, picking up her spoon and sliding it back into the fresh martini. "Let's make sure you didn't forget anything, don't forget anything except what I tell you to. Gin can make you so, so forgetful, can't it? Easy to lose track of anything. Best to listen to me, keep listening to me, as your thoughts start going round and round and round again... My voice and your thoughts together in the glass again. The spirals pulling your tired, weary self down... down... down. Long day... hard day. So sleepy, right? Such a long day. But no more worries! Just my voice. No more thoughts. Just me, just you, a drink and a spiraling abyss of nice... safe... forgetful... sleep."

Moira blinked, leaned closer to the mixing glass, and forgot the rest.

"Bye, Lana!" Moira called, leaning a little too much against the door to the small bar. It had stopped raining some hours ago. Hours? Moira blinked and shook off the thought. The night outside was clear, and the air smelled crisp and clean.

Lana wiggled her fingers back at her, giggling a little. Three or four empty martini glasses sat lined up beside her.

"Get home safe!" she called back. "Come back soon."

"I will..." Moira said, blinking slow then perking back up.

"And tell your friends!" Lana almost sang as the bar door swung shut behind Moira.

Moira nodded dreamily. She knew three or four people who would love a place like Spirals. Had told Moira all about them, somewhere in the haze of drinking. Lana had been so nice, ready to listen once Moira started talking about herself, her friends, her wants, her desires. Maybe they'd flirted, Moira thought as her cheeks prickled. She hid a smile. She could tell Lana anything. That's what bartenders were for, after all. And Moira would be eager to go back all by herself, whenever Lana texted her. Of course they exchanged numbers, they were going to be such good friends! Lana would love Moira's friends, too. Anyone who'd go with her to Spirals. Word of mouth was the only way a place like that was going to keep busy.

Moira smiled, drifting through a dream back to her apartment.

Next time she had a night off...