Songbird

"Thank you... thank you," her voice heard around the bar as she leans forward in to the microphone resting her fingerless leather gloves atop the microphone as she sways. A beaming smile across her pale petite face, which sits beneath spiked irregularly cut black hair flecked with lime green highlights, it's certainly not a conventional look.

She rocks the microphone stand, looking every bit the rockstar she no doubt aspires to be as the noisy crowd begin to calm and settle in their response to the last chords of the song fading from the speaker stack thst was set up by the team of staff that accompany her and her band, 'Eroding April'. This isn't my idea, this is the idea of the Brewery's marketing team who view O'Learys as the perfect venue for the bands pre album launch tour. Apparently they're going to be big. If I was booking a band I'd be booking a style of music that wasn't akin to sticking a nail gun to my temple and pulling the trigger.

Steve seems to be enjoying himself as I watch him coercing two blonde girls on the far side of the busy bar. I'll say one thing for 'Eroding April', there music might be shite but it's brought in a bumper Tuesday night crowd that we wouldn't normally see. I can only imagine what a good band might bring in. We'd no doubt be rivalling the Arena on the far side of the City.

"Right... right sadly... sadly this is our last song," she states breathlessly into the Mic. An almost pantomime jeer greets her

"Fuck Off," she responds acerbically "I'd just like to say thanks to you for fucking being you..."

"Don't change," a bald drummer shouts over the din.

"I'd also like to thank O'Leary's for hosting us tonight... they've great... stay behind and drink all their fucking beer."

I welcome the sentiment as I nod to her, but she doesn't notice me.

"This is... Overdone!!"

It means nothing to me, it means nothing to Steve I know full well but he erupts as does the rest of the packed bar. I take a swig from a cold bottle of lager as the drummer counts down the start of the song.

**********

As I'd expected the final chords of the final track had been greeted with delirium. A delirium that did not transfer to, 'lets all go to the bar and get pissed'. An hour later as closing time approaches the temporary stage and its associated equipment are all but packed away. Roughly eighty percent of the crowd hadn't remained much after the band had left stage.

I start packing away the bar myself. Steve's disappeared like a dog on heat after one of the two blondes, probably with aspirations of two of them, likely chewing on a greasy burger on his own down the takeaway mile without even having got a phone number for his fucking troubles. I wonder if he'll put in an appearance again, knowing full well it's a strong possibility.

I look over at Alice the lead singer who's presently involved in deep and seemingly very heated conversation with a long haired guy in of all things a corduroy jacket. I watch her slam her hand against the bar, hissing the word "Fuck," angrily as he backs away on her snarling expression his hands to outstretched as if indicating he takes no responsibility. I note her tumbler is empty picking out a bottle of bourbon I walk over and without enquiring pour a large freehand measure.

"Thanks" she offers.

"Sounds... looks like you needed it," I offer.

"When did creativity die?"

"Fuck," I offer. "Did he... I had no idea he was even ill."

It's a shit joke but it has the desired effect. Her chuckle somewhere between sincere and disbelief at my pathetic attempt at humour.

"Join me in a Whisky Barman... on one condition" she offers narrowing her eyes a little. Swilling the amber liquid in her glass.

"What's that?" I offer genuinely intrigued.

"Don't talk to me about what o do for a living."

**********

She sits opposite me in a booth, a bottle of bourbon sits on the table before us, with no tumblers. The bar is empty the doors are locked, blinds pulled down for the night. The last of her colleagues left around ten minutes ago. All of them off to find a late night curry house. She'd indicated she wasn't keen, promised to see them all in the morning as she was going to head back to the hotel.

"Have you not got a fucking juke box in a place like this?" She states rather accusingly as opposed to an enquiry as she leans forward over the table at me, I can't help but glance down the front of her black vest over a seemingly black bra holding up her small tits.

"Think it's unplugged for the night," I offer

"Irish Bar..." she chuckles "...it's probably full of cliche shit like U2 and The Pogues anyway."

"I'll take no offence," I say grabbing the bottle and taking a swig.

"You're not Irish though ...not with that accent" Alice offers.

"Local boy, born and bred" I offer up, "Moved away... got dragged right back home within months."

"Family man?"

"Hardly... it's just me and my brother ...we grew up in the system" I offer being proud of my difficult history but with a tell my hand hovers over another swig from the bottle of amber coloured liquid.

"System?" she offers taking a swig and I note that the bottle is actually getting perilously close to empty.

"Care Homes... Foster Parents," I offer and she gives a down turned smile. "It defined us though... made us who we are."

"Good," she offers, "Fuck we got deep quickly there did we not?"

I grab the bottle and drain the remainder of contents without responding to her.

"Another?" I offer raising the empty glass bottle.

"We don't have to finish it do we she smirks on eyes that sparkle with intoxication as I slip from the booth and walk across the room to the bar, I hear her heavy boots follow me. "You mind if I smoke?" She enquires.

"Be my guest" I offer and watch as she takes a packet of cigarettes from the waistband of her tight black denim skirt, worn over black ripped stockings with the heavy soled black boots lined with buckles and straps. Her face is littered with studs and piercings but it doesn't make her unattractive, equally heavy tattoos are etched in to her shoulders and her left thigh, although even through the ripped tights I can't decipher the design. She wears multiple rings on her fingers and bangles over her wrists along with a thin leather choker collar around her pale slender neck. The most enticing accessory is a pair of brushed steel handcuffs that link run over and under a thick black studded belt. I'd spotted them first as she'd taken to the stage, I couldn't help but dwell on the unusual accessory, unusual but strangely in keeping with her physical appearance.

"So who was that and what was your little disagreement earlier?" I enquire.

"Aww our fucking Label appointed Manager Simon fucking Zachary... fucking Corporates shitbags are blocking my preference on a visual for the Album cover," she offers on a slightly slurred, certainly angry tone as I sense the stir of raw emotion in her words. "You'd think we could be who we want to be wouldn't you?"

"You can't?"

"Like fuck can we... the closer we get to breaking the scene the less of our identity we seem to cling to ... what price fame?"

"Handcuffs over a belt are hardly pop Princess though are they?"

"Don't be another predictable thirsty guy who fixates on my lucky cuffs," she smirks while gently reprimanding me.

"Sex sells," I offer the tired cliche to her, gar too late not to fit the predictable tag, ive visualised her a dozen times or more restrained in as many different positions.

She laughs taking a phone from her waist band also, and I'm conscious that being distracted she hasn't lit a cigarette. Scrolling through screens she thrusts the phone towards me, "Apparently this is overly sexualised."

Cracking open the new bottle of bourbon I take the phone from her slender hand, and look to the image on the screen, Alice stands seemingly in the middle of Docklands or a Port netting and crates around her feet to her waist, she's obviously topless but her arms Cross across her breasts, showing nothing, her skin is littered with words or phrases, either applied by pen or digitally. Pinching and zooming I enlarge the image, reading a sample of the words that litter her skin, 'depression', 'bigotry', 'hate', 'hope' are amongst a plethora of words I skim through.

"I've seen worse," I offer my appraisal.

"Exactly," she offers clutching on to my agreement with her sentiment.

"I can think of worse," my mind immediately snapping to a far darker place as I look up at her across the bar. She finally plucks a cigarette and places it to her lips.

"Like what?"

"You might not wanna know."

"Well fuck me Mister Barman now I want to know," there's a glint to her eye as I reach to the side of the till for an object I'd used only earlier in the day. I pick it up I turn it in my hand, from her back pocket she slips a lighter, with a brief flicker of orange glow she lights up, inhales deeply then blows smoke back across the bar towards me.

"Well Song Bird... sometimes actions speak louder than words."

I slide the black bullet tip 'Sharpie' across the surface of the bar to her.

**********

"No peeking" I state harshly, tilting her head back up toward the ceiling.

"Are you not done already" Alice offers frustrated.

"I'm being artistic," I acerbically joke.

She stands before me, stripped of her vest to reveal the opaque bra, through which her pierced nipples clearly show. I scrawl along her left shoulder with the latest word of inspiration that comes to mind. Stepping back I admire my creation my crude handwriting littering the top half of her body.

"I may have run out of room" I offer with a dark grin. I suspect she has no idea what adorns her skin of she may well have protested. "You can look now."

I'd started with simple adjectives Disheartened, Needy, Desperate, Impetuous, Idealistic and Obnoxious. As I'd written, as she allowed me to write on her my darker mind crept in, interspersing the words with increasing vulgar terms. Slut, Whore, Cunt, Fuck Meat, Worthless and Cum Dump the words that now lay scrawled between my initial musings, across her shoulders, across her stomach, down the inside and outside of her slender arms.

She fell silent as she gazed across her body. I turn her to face the mirror the other side of the bar. Her eyes meet her own reflection as she stands there I place the pen into my back pocket, then place both hands upon my shoulders.

"That's fucking dark," she softly utters, "So fucking dark."

I turn her back to face me, my breath heavy in my lungs. "That's how I see you... that's how the world will see you. I run my finger firmly up the word obnoxious, in black indelible ink on her left forearm. Then place the same finger over the words Cum Slut across the waistband of her skirt.

Her eyes heavy with self pity I step forward pushing her against the bar, she flings her arms around my neck and we passionately embrace. As her tongue invades my mouth my hands fall over her pert buttocks and pull her slender frame towards me. Stumbling back as we entwine I press her against the bar. She supports herself momentarily raising her body with locked out arms, palms flat against the bar as she wraps her legs around my waist.I grab her waist in two strong hands and lift her frail body up to sit her on the edge of the bar. Leaning forward now as she kisses me my hands firmly running up the insides of her thighs

"Fulfil the destiny then you cunt... make me your obnoxious little cum slut," she whispers as her hands reach between us and she frantically undoes the front of my jeans pulling out my already fully erect dick. I rip open the gusset of the already torn tights to find she wears no underwear and that her clit is pierced by a silver bar.

"Desperate fucking Cum Dump sounds more in keeping." I offer as she slips from the bar impaling herself down on my dick as she wraps her booted legs around my waist, a muffled little squeal passes her lips as I press my hips up to meet her. Pressing Alice against the bar I support the back of her thighs, she clutches her left hand over my right shoulder then extends an arm behind her as she begins to frantically fuck, raising her hips up and down as I support her body weight.

She feels good, a warmth that envelops me, her tight dry little slit moving up and down my length her mouth parted on short breaths as she builds an intense rhythm from the outset.

"I hope ...I don't ...shatter any ...illusions," she breathlessly offers.

"I'm guessing you're ...you're used to giving away that cunt."

She stares at me, not breaking her rhythm.

"You don't get to the top by singing," I continue "...you get to the top by fucking."

She doesn't respond. Her harsh heavy angry thrusts up and down on me speak for her, and feel sensational. She leans forward kissing me viciously, letting go of the kiss as she bites my lip while pulling back.

"Being Fuck Meat gets you far" she hisses a devil in her eyes, a darkness, as she fucks me, as she grinds her self down, taking me deeper I feel the silver stud through her clit rub the base of my shaft as she grinds and rolls her hips.

"Treated like a worthless whore," I goad her

"Treat me like a worthless whore."

"I will," I snarl

Lifting her I pull out of her dropping my grip on the backs of her thighs letting her slip to the floor. She barely has time to react as I turn her press her over the bar and kick her legs apart and lance her body harshly from behind. As she cries out, somehow the bottle of bourbon spills, it's dark sweet contents pouring slowly over the surface of the bar. I place a hand over the leather collar she wears and press her head down against the bar.

"Fuck... Fuck you,"'she hisses.

Hearing her little protest I push her legs back apart and bending my knees a little I pull back them force myself harshly up against her taking her from behind with repetitive hard thrust after hard thrust, drawimg protesting little whimpers. "You don't like not being in control do you..." I offer. "Idealistic little white trash feminist cunt that you are."

"Fuck you," she offers again as I keep her head pinned down, the bourbon all but spilled from the bottle now soaking the left hand side of her face.

"No" I offer silently "Fuck you"

Drawing back my hips she cries out on the harsh deep thrust of my dick into her from behind.

Were anyone observing they'd struggle to tell if we were fucking or fighting.

**********

Slumped across the floor at my feet she looks up at me, exhausted her shoulders rising and falling heavily, naked now spare for the hideously torn tights, her dark lip stick smeared across her face. Her heavy dark eye make up all but washed from the left side of her face by the bourbon her right eye streaked with tears, not of any panic or fear, just of screwing up her face as she's taken and handled the two rough fucks I've given her. I peel off my sweat soaked T-Shirt and fling it over the back of a chair.

Crouching down level with her I pick up from the floor the handcuffs that had sat looped over her belt. Opening the cuffs I dangle them from my finger, as she looks up at me. Slowly she begins to shake her head.

"There's ...there's no key for them" she offers shaking her head. "They're just... they're just for show"

I shrug my shoulders callously, "That's not my problem Alice."

With out further delay I grab her by short black hair and drag her across the floor on her knees back towards the booth we'd sat in earlier.

"Please don't," Alice offers, "Please don't."

Grabbing her collar I lift her up on to unsteady legs before pushing her down across the hard table top. She gasps heavily for breath.

"You've cum twice" I snap the cuffs over her left wrist. "That little silver stud in your clit works miracles." Drawing her cuffed wrist into the small of her back I pull her right wrist to meet it.

I feel her tense, she knows what to anticipate as I lock the cuffs tightly over her wrist.

"Let's see how lucky they are," I goad her. "You may not cum this time ...but I'm gonna make the songbird sing."

Leaning over her all but naked body I place my left forearm across the back of her shoulders

"Let's add Anal Slut to that list of words"

She bucks but I hold her down

"No..." she pulls at the cuffs "...No not like this ...please not like..."

I place my hard dick against her ass as I keep my body weight on top of hers. She tenses, which won't assist me or her. I persist pushing the tip of my dick against her, guided by the firm grip of my hand. Alice let's a prolonged stifled cry escape her lips, panting hard on short repetitive exhales as I slowly gain entry into her unbelievable tight anus.

"Oh fuck... Oh fuck Alice you feel so... so fucking good."

The pained noise that initially passed her lips seems to hang in the air. Alice lays there pinned down to the table as uncomfortable heavy breaths now pass her lips, interspersed with trembling whimpers. Fully penetrating her I stir my hips, fixating on a tattoo across her back of a skull with black roses around it.

"This is your last song..." I mock. "I'd like to thank you for being so accommodating."

**********

Pulling my dick from Alice's tight rear passage, I wince from the pain of the tight dry fuck I've just administered to the intriguing, dark haired, dark souled girl.

Stepping away from her she remains prostrate over the table her hands cuffed her body riding and falling from our intensity. I head to the bar, I need a drink, not the bourbon or any other alcoholic drink, I need something to quench my thirst and harsh dry throat, a longer drink. From the glass fronted fridge I take and open an overpriced bottle of still water and lean my head back on my neck as I raise the bottle. A trickle of water escapes my lips and runs down my neck and across the clammy naked chest. The ice cold liquid offers a perfect relief.

I look over at her. She remains prone, bent double across the table. The minute I'd set eyes on her I'd imagined fucking her. There was nothing classically beautiful about her, the piercings to her face, the black and electric green dyed hair. There's was an allure to her though, something I couldn't place. Something that actially made her more attractive.

"Fix you a drink?" I offer sarcastically . She remains to all intents and purpose lifeless. I take her response to indicated she's not interested in my offer, a dark smirk drawing across my face. While she remains lay there catatonic, as I kick aside a box of vodka left behind the bar that sits on top of the trap hatch leading to the cellar. Bent double I unlock the hatch and raise it slowly, grimacing on hearing the noisy hinges as the hatch swings back on itself. Setting dow, now fully opened I look back to the cuffed beauty, her legs fidget a little but she's barely moved. Side stepping the open hatch I head back towards her, sticking my head in through the door of the kitchen area briefly. Flicking on the sterile bright strip light I spot what I require and grab the item, before heading back through the bar tucking the retrieved item uncomfortably in to the rear waistband of my jeans. My pace quickens as I approach her, a pulse quickening in my temple, my breathing nasal as my anticipation builds.

"Let's get you stood upright." I instruct as my hand takes the collar around her neck. "Just a little encore I'd like to perform."

Alice doesn't say a word as I turn her to face me, her eyes heavy on exhaustion and alcohol. I drop my head and kiss her lips. She doesn't respond at first but then I feel her lips part and her tongue press into my mouth. Moments later I break away from the kiss looking down into those bleary bloodshot eyes.

"No... no ones ever... treated me like this before..." she croakily states on an almost mischievous look up at me. "I've.."