The lips of a bartender

I've had a crush on a bartender at a place I frequent. She flipped out when I told her about what my ex did to me.

During the dark days when there was no movement in my penis, I went to the bar and drank and gazed into her hazel eyes and luscious lips and ached to see her boobs. After I was officially single again I said to myself, I want her.

Her.

Camille and I are about the same age. I didn't know her situation, but I told her, and continue to tell her I have a crush on her.

One night, after I went to see some bands play, I ended up at Camille's bar for a night cap. Which turned into Camille pouring shot after shot for me and her. I had Xanax earlier to deal with the emotional crap and I blacked out when I mix pills with booze.

The next thing I remember Camille and I are out front of her bar, holding hands and she says, "We should probably stop making out since we're both drunk."

What?! I don't remember making out with her. The part I should have blacked out on was when she said that. I kissed those lips. I licked her tongue. I can't remember a thing.

I went back the next night and said, "Camille, about last night -" and she interrupted, "Stop, don't say a thing, you know I love you." I wanted to find out how long we were kissing for and if we can give it another go while I was coherent. No such luck. I gazed like a school boy who has a hot English teacher as she bounced up and down the bar pouring drinks for the hipsters, the drunks and the restaurant workers who usually end up there.

I'm not the only one who ogles Camille. Other guys come in and watch her with their puppy dog eyes. She works the room. She's better than any entertainer.

I don't remember kissing her. My first post breakup kiss, kaput in the alcohol soaked memory.