Whiskey Glasses Song Novels & Stories

I said with all seriousness. “You want to buy my alcohol?” The bartender asked as he yanked out a new bottle of alcohol named whiskey. “This is Whisky, a special type of alcohol. It’s quite expensive and rare. You think you can afford it?” “I’ll pay you double.” “Sold!” He exclaimed joyfully without hesitation. “Sold what?” The cowboy asked. “These gentlemen just bought the last bottle of whiskey. So, I must announce now that whiskey is unavailable for today,” the bartender said happily.

I taunted, but my mouth went dry at his roguishness. "Well, if being a gentleman means not being myself, then I'm happy to be a fuckboy." He snatched the crystal glass from my hand and pressed his mouth against the spot where I had just taken a sip, leaving a red imprint of my lips. He then took a sip of the whiskey, all while maintaining eye contact with me. Fuck, I found that so hot, it was ridiculous. He raised his glass to me. "Cheers to authenticity." Without thinking, I found myself holding the Margarita and sipping on the chilled beverage as I realized my sudden thirst. I broke free from his whiskey colored gaze that held me captive for far too long.

“And you’re proving me right. Maybe slow down before you sink.” I clutched the rim of the glass tighter, staring at the golden liquid as if it could answer for me. The room blurred at the edges, laughter echoing too loudly, music swelling too high giving me all the right reasons to drink more. The whiskey was louder than the music now, humming in my blood, making the chandelier lights above the ballroom blur into one endless swirl of gold. I tipped my glass again, but a hand intercepted, sliding it out of my reach. “You should stop,” the man next to me murmured.

He reached for a bottle of whiskey and poured a generous amount into a glass, sliding it across the polished wood surface toward me. I grabbed the glass and brought it to my lips, downing almost all of it in one long gulp. The whiskey burned as it went down my throat, making my eyes water, but I welcomed the sensation. It was something real, something physical that I could focus on instead of the chaos in my head. "Another one," I said, setting the empty glass back down on the bar with a sharp clink. The bartender hesitated for a moment, clearly concerned, but he poured me another drink anyway. I was reaching for the glass when I felt someone touch my arm.

she replied. Haisley then looked into the office area. Seeing a glass on the table, she walked over. She grabbed the glass and took a sip of the golden liquid inside, frowning immediately. "What is this?" she asked, coughing as she felt the bitter liquid burning her throat. "What do you think? Sweet tea?" Nathan answered, pulling the glass still in Haisley's hand and placing it on the table, out of her reach. "It's whiskey, not sweet tea," he continued. He then walked to the other side of the room, opened a small fridge, and took out a bottle of water. Opening it, he handed it to Haisley.

Frowning, I shook my head, trying to clear all of the thoughts away. “I’ll have a bottle of bud and a whiskey chaser,” I answered, pulling out my wallet. “Actually, make it a double.” I called, as he turned to make it. He smiled sympathetically over his shoulder. When he set the whiskey on the bar I grabbed the glass and downed it in two gulps, enjoying the feel of the burn as it went down my throat. I pushed the empty glass towards him. “Stick another double in there for me.”

Nysaa's lips curled into a sardonic smile as she leaned in slightly closer to the bartender. "I need something strong. Give me a double shot of whiskey, and leave the bottle." He raised an eyebrow at her request, clearly impressed by her boldness. "You sure you can handle it, miss?" Nysaa met his gaze with a defiant stare. "Try me." The bartender poured the amber liquid into a glass, placing it in front of her along with the whiskey bottle. Nysaa took the glass and downed the first shot in one swift motion. The fiery warmth spread through her, bringing a welcome numbness to her emotions.

He poured some more of the amber liquid into the glass, keeping his dark eyes on my face. I held the glass gingerly, and took a couple sips. While my Dad let me drink wine, he had never introduced me to any kind of liquor. I looked down at the bottle and read the fancy label. "Whiskey. Do you like this brand?" I tilted my head and asked Viktor.

People clustered together in fake happiness or numbness or whatever they were chasing. I took a seat at the bar, the wood beneath my arms sticky from spilled liquor and time. I didn’t care. "Whiskey, please," I called the bartender, a lanky guy in a white shirt and black bow tie. He nodded without saying a word and turned away. Came back with a bottle of Jameson and a glass. Good choice. He knows a good drink. I poured the first glass full, downed it in one go, and slammed it on the table.

The bartender glances my way, eyes skimming over me in mild curiosity. “What’ll it be?” I exhale. “Whiskey. Neat.” He nods, pouring a glass without another word. I take the drink, swirling it slightly before taking a slow sip. It burns, but it’s a good burn, a necessary one. I need space. I need to not think about Levi. Not think about the way his voice sounded when he told me to go, like he’d already accepted that I would. Like he expected it I grip the glass tighter.