Whiskey Glasses Song Novels & Stories

I notice there are two glasses of whiskey. ‘I thought you might want something stronger, you looked a little stressed today,’ I give him a smile as we clink glasses before taking a sip. That anxious energy dissipates as the burning liquid coats my insides. ‘You might be right,’ I jest looking up from my lashes as I peruse the menu. ‘Everything looks so good,’ I mutter taking another sip of my drink. I didn’t really eat or drink much today, whiskey is not really the best thing to drink so quickly.

Perfect. Sliding onto a stool, I signaled the bartender. “Whiskey.” He barely glanced at me before pouring a glass and sliding it across the counter. I wrapped my fingers around it, letting the cool condensation seep into my skin. I shouldn’t be here. But for just a moment, I was allowing myself to pretend I belonged. I took a sip, letting the burn settle in my chest. Just one drink. Then I’d leave. Maybe. — The whiskey burned its way down my throat, spreading warmth through my chest. I let out a slow breath, tapping my fingers against the glass as I listened to the noise around me. Laughter, loud voices, the clinking of drinks—just another night for Dylan’s clan.

Jacob's point of view! Eyes glassy and hazy from the cigar smoke, I stared at the amber liquid in my glass and drained it in one gulp. The next moment I heard it shatter into thousands of pieces. That didn't bother me and so I let my gaze wander over the floor as if in a trance. Yes, a few whiskey glasses have already accumulated here, as well as everything that I had found disturbing. My hope of quitting drinking was dwindling. Also, why would I stop getting a new glass only to fill it up with more whiskey and throw it at something? I would get new glasses anyway. Because I could. And I didn't know what else to do.

Yes, birds squeak. “Sir, please.” I moved to the glass decanter that held his whiskey. There were two tumbles next to it and I poured myself a finger into one of them. I drank from it, letting it rest on my tongue so I could really feel the flavour then I swallowed. “This is good.” I held the glass up to the assistant. “Too bad it is going to be a waste.” He opened his mouth, but his scream was muffled by the sound of the Decatur connecting with the shel holding all the other drinks.

I was loving this initiative-taking, confident Manu. She sat on my lap and stretched to grab the glass that was on the side table next to the couch. It was a regular whiskey glass, and she held it in front of me. "Two fingers of whiskey were enough to get you all loose like this?" I asked, thinking she was a lightweight. "Two fingers?" "Yes, little one, a shot of whiskey in this glass is about two fingers worth." "Oh really? I didn't know that." She said, looking at the glass with concern.

Collections of wine, all categories from foreign brandy and whisky to champagnes and red wines. Wayne grabbed a bottle of Johnnie Walker's Black Label and poured himself a hearty glass. He put in a few cubes of ice from the fridge and took a long swig at it. The whisky rushed down his throat, dousing every ounce of desire left. Nothing like a good glass of alcohol to relax you and summon sleep. He heard Rojan descend the steps and come to join him at the bar, he climbed atop one of the bar stools. Wayne gingerly poured another glass for him.

Virgin. A slow, predatory smile spread across my face. “Well, well. A fucking virgin.” She nodded frantically, eyes wide and glistening, pleading without daring to speak. The fear in them was pure, unfiltered. It made my cock twitch against my zipper. “You’re in luck today,” I murmured, voice low and mocking. My gaze slid to the glass table beside us. The whiskey bottle waited like an old friend, half-full, amber liquid catching the dim light. The ice had long since melted. Good. I liked it warm and burning.

*Jayden* I took the whiskey glass and was about to drink from it then remembered why I had put it away. I pressed a bell and the waitress appeared and I asked for another double shot. “I am sorry sir, you have finished the last of the Glen 40 years, would you like to try Aberf? It is also a forty-year aged whisky, single malt Scotch whisky aged in Oak casks” she suggested. “If that is the case, I think I will be heading home then, give me my total and add me another small bottle of cold water then bring me my bill.” I told her. It was getting late and I still had an exciting night with Sierra ahead.

"Water is not allowed in a place like this. Give her a Cosmopolitan. And I will have a neat whiskey." The bartender nodded and shuffled away. Once he was gone, the silence between us became heavy. Silas sat back, his eyes locked onto mine. I felt incredibly uneasy under his gaze, my hands trembling slightly in my lap. I wanted to look away, but I forced myself to hold his stare. He did not say a single word to me. He just watched me until the bartender returned and slid our glasses onto the sticky wood. I reached for my drink, taking a small, quick sip of the sweet pink liquid to wet my dry throat. Silas picked up his whiskey, took a slow drink, and then leaned forward over the table.

she asked over the booming music. I leaned against the counter, scanning the crowd as I pondered my choice. "A whiskey on the rocks, please," I replied, my voice barely audible above the uproar. As I sipped the smooth liquid, a surge of courage flowed through my veins. It was time to let loose and have some fun.