Tennessee Whiskey

I've always been a boozer ever since I could remember. My first taste of whiskey was back when I was six. My alcoholic father left a bottle of Jack Daniels on the kitchen table. I took a big swig from the open bottle. Instead of taking the bottle away, hitting or yelling at me, he poured a little of the rich amber liquid in a glass and said, “drink up.” I did just that. My father would proudly announce to his boozing pals, “this is my drinking buddy,” while slapping me hard on my back. So, I did become my father's stay at home 'drinking buddy'. Many nights I'd get drunk with my old man. The next day I'd either miss school or go to school with a hangover. Some days I'd fall asleep in my classes.

So, here begins my dependence on alcohol from elementary school to middle school and partially through high school when I dropped out in the tenth grade. This started my life-long longing for whiskey. I continued on my dark path to nowhere.

My mother had died during childbirth. As is the case, my father was the only parent figure in my life.

Now at thirty-two I'm a drunk. I know it and I don't care. Tennessee whiskey is my best friend. It never argues with me. It never tells me I'm no good and that I will never amount to anything. Old Jack never lets me down. We see eye to eye.

I had a good job at the Miller's Construction Company as their top foreman. But they fired me because I'd go into work with booze on my breath. They said many times I was drunk. I told them I could hold my liquor. The higher ups said, “No chance. You're done.” So, I took what pay I had coming and strutted out the door. That was three years ago. Haven't worked since. Don't need to. I saved up plenty of money to last me.

These days I'm a regular at the local pub. Most evenings a patron till closing time. There's a stool up at the bar with my name on it, literally. That's where you'll find me except on weekends when my friends join me. Then we'll grab a table. That's what happened one Friday night in July. We were all getting sloshed. My buddies drinking mostly beer and shots. And me, well I've got my Tennessee whiskey. We played the jukebox song after song and danced with the wild women that usually came in for two things, to get drunk and get laid. I was happy to oblige with the second thing. It didn't take long and I was wasted. 'Jack' was having his way with me again tonight.

Star, our barmaid is a hot little number. I've been trying to get in her pants for months. She's a seductive flirt. She walked by and I slid my hand up her mini skirt. She chuckled and pulled away.

“See she wants me,” I slurred.

“No, she doesn't,” said my friend Crammer.

She walked by again. I slid off my chair and reached up and groped her breast tightly in the palm of my hands. They felt warm and soft. Suddenly I was on the floor looking up through whiskey-colored glasses at a beautiful sight.

“You touch me again Randy Duncan, and I'll have your hide!” yelled a stunned blue-eyed hottie.

My buddy Travis grabbed me by the arm and shoved me back into my seat. “Stop the bull shit Randy. You have to leave Star alone.”

I got back up and began staggering over to where she was. No one was going to tell me what to do. I once again reached out to grab Star but before I succeeded, she stuck her foot out and I tripped and fell. Which didn't take much.

Tony the bartender and owner was there in a flash. He forcefully took my arm and helped me up. “Leave me alone,” I slurred jerking my arm away.

“Randy, you're cut off. It's time for you to go. Get on out of here. Go home and sober up.”

“I'm leaving man,” I say as I staggered myself to the door mumbling a bunch of cus words. “I've got a bottle of smooth whiskey waiting for me at home. You guys are all a bunch of ass holes. Who needs ya anyway.”

“Oh man, go home and sleep it off.” reiterated Tony.

“Come on buddy I'll drive you home,” demands his buddy, Dale.

“OK, OK,” I groaned.

I flopped myself in his beat-up Chevy truck.

“Ralph. Ralph, wake up man.”

Slap!

“Whoa, dude, why'd you hit me?” My words came out thick and blurred.

“Come on man, wake up. Let me get you in the house. Lean on my shoulder.”

Dale held me up the best he could. I was partially taking steps and partially dragging my feet along.

He grabbed the door handle and pushed the door open slamming it against the back wall. I fell onto the sofa.

“See ya bud.” Dale's voice trailed off as he slipped out the door.

“Ya, Ya,” I mumbled.

Three hours later I was awakened by an overwhelming feeling as if my bladder was going to explode. The dam toilet seemed like a mile away. I began to dribble before I got there. The release was instantaneous. Pure pleasure from the intense feeling of expulsion. Once relieved I sat back down on the couch. The bottle of Jack Daniels I left on the coffee table was beckoning me. There was about a quarter of a bottle left. I guzzled her down. Then I was staring at the bottom of the bottle. I picked it up and tried to get a few more drops of ecstasy. But there were no more to be had. “Ah, hell with it.” I said and shuffled my way into bed.

I was back at the bar on a hot steamy Saturday night in August, when a tall sexy brunette sashayed through the back door of the saloon with a body any woman would die for. She had long slender legs, thick wavy hair reaching the middle of her back while enticing any man to run his fingers through the strands. Her eyes as dark as coal. I wondered what mysteries they concealed. Through cloudy whiskey eyes I could see she radiated beauty. I could tell she was different. More grounded. More sophisticated.

Luckily, I hadn't had time to get shnockered yet. Although I was feeling a bit tipsy.

She continued to the bar and gracefully placed her firm round ass on a bar stool. She ordered a drink in a martini glass. I watched as she took small seductive sips, licking her lips each time. I was sitting two stools down from her. She glanced my way. Her sexual yet sensual smile sent shivers down my spine. No other woman had ever caused a reaction in me like that. I was hooked. What was it about her. I didn't know. I just knew I needed her. Why? I don't know.

I need another drink, I thought to myself. “Hey, man, hit me with a double.”

“Gotcha, Randy,” acknowledged Tony.

Just as I was about to guzzle down the shots, I glanced her way, but she was gone. Suddenly I felt a light gentle touch on my shoulder. Slowly, I turned only to be eye to eye with her.

“Hey handsome, whatcha drinking?” She softly whispered, her lips brushing my ear as she slid herself on the bar stool next to me.

I stumbled out my words, “Tennessee whiskey. Jack Daniels. And you?” I questioned.

“Cosmopolitan.”

We continued with idle chit-chat.

“Are you new in town? I haven't seen you around. This is the first time I've seen you in here. This is my hangout. The ole 'Tony's Tavern', best place around. You can find me here almost every night. I'm single. When I leave here, I have 'Jack' waiting for me at home.”

“Who's Jack, she questioned, your dog?”

“No, it's my bottle of whiskey,” I declared.

“You like your whiskey, huh?”

“Sure. Hey would you like to go out next Saturday?” I asked apprehensively, changing the subject. I didn't want anybody judging me about my drinking.

“I'd love to,” she said with smiling eyes.

She gave me her address, and we made plans for me to pick her up at 7:00.

Man, I don't know if it was nerves or what, but I sure drank enough Daniels that week. In fact, my buddies agreed to pick me up each night and take my sloshed body home at closing time. I was a total wreck that whole week. And the worst thing is I didn't get her name or phone number. How stupid of me.

Well, Saturday night finally arrived. I was a mess for two reasons. I hadn't had a drink all day and of course I was picking up this beautiful woman I'd only met a week ago. I pulled up in front of her log cabin on the outskirts of town. As I began walking up the sidewalk she stepped out on the stoop. She was more stunning than I had anticipated now that I was seeing her through clear and not booze clouded eyes. Her red dress made her dark eyes appear even more suspenseful.

“Hi,” she said. “My name's Brandi.”

“Hi Brandi. You look absolutely gorgeous.”

“Thank you. And you don't look so bad yourself.”

That date was the first of many. Brandi became my rock. She was my savior. I was more occupied with Brandi than I was with 'Jack'. She was my reassurance that I no longer needed my Tennessee whiskey to comfort me. Brandi was by my side through my ups and downs. Leaving 'Jack' behind was physical and mental torture for me. But she was there through my struggles. She never left my side when I had withdrawals, DT's and tremors. She never told me I was no good and would never amount to anything. She never argued with me and never let me down. She supported me all the way.

Now, three years later we're happily married and have a beautiful two-year-old son named Carter. Lying on a soft blanket under an umbrella on the warm sands of Aruba, Brandi asked me, “Do you miss it?'”

“Miss what?” I ask.

“Your Tennessee Whiskey.”

“No, I don't. How could I? I have you. I no longer look at the bottom of a bottle. 'Jack' can no longer give me what you can. Everything that Tennessee whiskey once gave me, you now provide. I look into your mesmerizing dark eyes, and I'm filled with a warm sensation. You're smooth, sweet and comforting. I don't need anything else. I have the best aphrodisiac there is. I have my 'Brandi.'