Humiliated and Degraded

The bar was slow that night, the kind of slow where the hum of the fridge behind the counter felt louder than the chatter. I wiped down the same spot on the bar top for the third time, my hands moving on autopilot. The neon sign outside flickered, casting a pink glow through the window that made everything feel a little surreal. I was used to the usual crowd—truckers, locals, the occasional lost tourist—but tonight, two women walked in who didn’t fit the vibe at all.

They were stunning. Janelle and Beverly, I’d learn later, but at that moment, they were just them—all sharp cheekbones, glossy lips, and confidence that hit like a slap. They sauntered to a booth in the corner, their heels clicking like they owned the place. Janelle had dark hair that fell in perfect waves, and Beverly’s blonde curls caught the light like they were made of gold. They looked like they’d stepped out of a magazine, and I felt my stomach twist just watching them. I was nobody in my worn-out sneakers and faded black tee, my ponytail fraying from a long shift.

“Hey, waitress,” Janelle called, her voice sharp and teasing, like she was already laughing at me. “You gonna stand there all night or bring us some drinks?”

I fumbled with my notepad, my cheeks burning. “Uh, yeah, sorry. What can I get you?”

Beverly leaned forward, her eyes raking over me like I was something on display. “God, look at her. She’s, like, nervous already.” She smirked, and Janelle laughed, a sound that cut right through me. It wasn’t kind, but it made my skin tingle.

“Vodka sodas,” Janelle said, waving a manicured hand. “And make it quick, yeah? We’re not here to wait.”

I nodded, too fast, and hurried to the bar. My hands shook as I poured their drinks, the ice clinking louder than it should’ve. I could feel their eyes on me, hear their whispers, their laughter. It wasn’t the kind of laugh that invited you in—it was the kind that made you feel small, exposed. And God help me, I liked it. I didn’t know why, but the way they looked at me, like I was nothing, made my chest tight and my thighs press together.

I brought their drinks over, setting them down carefully. “Here you go,” I mumbled, avoiding their eyes.

Beverly tilted her head, inspecting me like I was a bug under a magnifying glass. “What’s your name, anyway?”

“Kelly,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

“Kelly,” Janelle repeated, dragging it out like it was a joke. “Cute. Very… basic.”

They both laughed, and I stood there, frozen, my face hot. I should’ve walked away, should’ve gone back to wiping down the bar, but I didn’t. I just stood there, letting their words sink into me like hooks.

“You look like you try so hard,” Beverly said, stirring her drink with a lazy finger. “That shirt’s, like, a size too small, huh? Desperate for tips or something?”

I swallowed, my throat tight. “I… it’s just the uniform.”

Janelle snorted. “Uniform? Sweetie, you’re not fooling anyone. You’re practically begging for attention.”

My heart pounded, and I hated how much I wanted to hear more. Their words stung, but the sting felt good, like pressing on a bruise. I shifted my weight, my sneakers squeaking against the floor. “Can I get you anything else?” I asked, my voice small.

Beverly leaned back, crossing her arms. “Yeah, you can stop looking so pathetic. It’s kind of embarrassing.”

Janelle giggled, then leaned forward, her eyes glinting. “Actually, you know what? Let’s have some fun.” She picked up her drink, pursed her lips, and spat right into it. The liquid rippled, a small glob of her spit swirling in the vodka soda. “Drink it.”

I stared at her, my breath catching. “What?”

“You heard me,” she said, her voice low, daring. “Drink it. Or are you too good for that?”

Beverly clapped her hands, delighted. “Oh my God, yes. Do it, Kelly. Show us you’re not just some boring little waitress.”

My hands trembled as I reached for the glass. I knew I shouldn’t. I knew it was wrong, disgusting, against everything I was supposed to be. But my body moved before my brain could catch up, and I lifted the glass to my lips. The vodka burned, sharp and bitter, but it was the faint taste of her spit—warm, foreign—that made my head spin. I drank it all, every drop, and when I set the glass down, my face was burning, my whole body buzzing.

They burst out laughing, loud and cruel. “Oh my God, she actually did it,” Beverly said, wiping tears from her eyes. “You’re such a freak, Kelly.”

“Look at her face,” Janelle added, leaning closer. “She liked it. Didn’t you?”

I couldn’t speak. My mouth was dry, my heart racing. I wanted to run, to hide, to disappear, but more than that, I wanted them to keep going. I wanted their eyes on me, their words cutting deeper. I wanted to be nothing for them, to be whatever they wanted me to be.

“You’re disgusting,” Beverly said, but her voice was softer now, almost curious. “You know that, right?”

I nodded, my eyes on the floor. “Yeah,” I whispered. “I know.”

They laughed again, and the sound wrapped around me like a leash, pulling me closer even as it pushed me down. I didn’t know what was wrong with me, why their cruelty felt like a gift, but I didn’t care.