Chapter 2: Trust In Me

Simon’s glance flicked between the shot glass immediately beside him, the upturned tiki bucket, and back to the liquor in the glass. His eyebrow quirked upward, staring up at the now-three giantesses surrounding him.

“Don’t tell me what it is,” he instructed Ash. “Let me guess.”

The green-haired girl shrugged; her wolfish grin hadn’t left her lips. Simon started to pace on the bar counter, tapping his chin in a pantomime of deep thought.

“First, tell me this,” he said. “This ‘Trust Fall,’ this is something specifically for tinies—yes?”

Ash nodded. “Look at little Sherlock. Good so far.”

In his pacing, Simon swung to face away from her; his face was suddenly reddening. There was something about how she spoke to him… as though she were only pretending to address him, the way one spoke to a pet or a doll. It was almost a performance.

But for whose benefit? Beck’s or Milla’s?

And there was the way her gray eyes never left him, even when she spoke to the other girls…

He cast the thoughts aside. “Then I have two guesses,” he said, deciding to play along with an over-produced British accent. “Or rather—two deductions. Number One is that I’m supposed to dive off Mister Wiki Tiki here into the shot glass. But we can discount that theory. Even at my size, the glass is too shallow. And you, being a seasoned tavern wench, would know better than to endanger a paying customer in such a fashion.”

He looked back at Ash as he said this last part. Her arms were crossed over her chest, measuring him with her gaze. “You’re getting warmer. What’s your second deduction?”

“It’s only logical,” Simon continued. “That if the trick doesn’t end with the tiny in the glass, it begins with the tiny in the glass. I climb in and—what? Get tossed back with the shot?” Here he glanced saucily at Beck, who pressed a hand to her burning cheek, half-covering her face.

Milla snorted. “That’s one way to get drunk. But…”

“But that theory can be disregarded as well,” Simon said. “If for no other reason that it doesn’t involve the diving platform. Which means…” He spread his arms in surrender. “I give up.”

Ash smirked down at him. “You got closer than I thought. But no dice.”

She fished in her jeans pocket for her phone. While she searched, Beck cupped a hand beside her lips and mouthed to Simon: “Logical…?” He winked at her but said nothing.

“It’s a social media challenge,” Ash was saying. “Like the thing with the ice buckets.”

“Or the Harlem Shake,” Milla agreed. “God—we’re old.”

Finally, Ash had her iPhone out, held low enough that even Simon could see the video she’d pulled up. The pause screen showed a bar similar to Studio H: a selfie-cam view of a young woman kneeling near the lip of the counter, her chin just disappearing under the edge. As the camera jostled in her grip, Simon noticed the teeth of a familiar wooden grimace squatting on the bar itself—a tiki head, just like…

“This video’s from here, isn’t it?” he asked.

Ash shushed him. “Just watch.”

On screen, the young woman turned towards camera, a big giddy smile on her flushed face. “You ready?” she said—presumably to somebody off camera. Without waiting for a reply, with the hand not taking video, she put a shot glass to her lips and drained the liquor in it into her mouth without swallowing. Then, with the liquid still in her mouth, she turned back towards the bar counter, repositioned her chin beneath the lip, and opened her mouth.

“Get ready,” Ash breathed excitedly.

From the speakers came a little shriek—then a little splash.

“Mmph!” said the girl on screen.

Beck, Milla, and Simon all gasped at once.

It had been a blur. But a tiny form had sprinted to the edge of the diving platform, swan-dived off… and plummeted directly into young woman’s jaws.

“What the hell…” Milla murmured, laughing in spite of herself. Beck didn’t say a word; she just kept a hand clamped over her own mouth, not trusting herself to speak.

On screen, Simon saw the woman’s head bob back, then lean forward as she opened her lips again. A tiny woman spilled out onto her palm, soaked with saliva and liquor and wiping her eyes, but laughing and hooting like she’d just come off a roller coaster.

“I thought you were going to…” she started to say. Then the video ended.

Three pairs of eyes, two large, one tiny, turned towards Ash.

Simon was the first to speak. “That’s a trust fall?”

The taller girl nodded eagerly. “It’s the hot new thing. And people come in here all the time because, well, it’s a mixed size bar. Look around.”

She gestured around Studio H. For the first time, Simon really looked at the clientele of the bar, gathered at standing tables and booths. At first he only saw the dim shadowed forms of normal sized women and men, but as his eyes slowly adjusted, he started spotting tinies as well: standing on booth tables, perched on shoulders, or held in the hands of their larger companions.

There weren’t so many of them—maybe a dozen in all. But it still surprised Simon.

“I had no idea there were so many in the city,” he said.

“It’s a Saturday,” Ash said mysteriously—as though this explained anything at all. “So, what do you think? You want to take the plunge?” She’d lifted her phone off the bar top, ready to film.

“Oh! Ah…” Simon felt like a spotlight had swung into his eyes. But he wasn’t scared. After all, he’d taken far more extreme risks that weekend already, though not in so public a forum. He felt eyes on him: Milla’s and Beck’s, plus Ash’s peculiarly scorching stare…

Finally he shrugged, staring to pull his t-shirt off. “What the hell. Let’s do it.”

Beck gasped audibly. Ash whooped and clapped, then tapped a few touch-keys on her phone, pulling up her camera. “Hold on, hold on. I’ll go live…”

Milla raised her eyebrows at her little brother. “You’re crazy,” she sneered. “Are we actually doing this?” Then she clapped Beck between the shoulder blades. “I guess you’re up,” she teased. “Of course I can’t do it—he’s my brother. Unless you’re volunteering, Ash?”

The green-haired girl shook her head. “I don’t drink with customers while I’m working, not even when the customers are in the drink. That’s my cross to bear.”

Beck looked like a headlight-blinded deer. But to Simon’s surprise, she shook herself all over and rolled her shoulders, psyching herself up. “All right. I’m in too.”

“Beck’s in too!” Ash crowed, grinning ear to ear now.

“Just try not to gulp him down,” Milla urged, hiding a wicked smile behind her hand.

“Oh God, can you imagine?” Ash said.

Beck blanched, but she put a brave face on when she looked down at Simon. “You’re sure about this?” she asked, offering a hand to him, palm up.

He’d removed his shirt and tossed it aside; now, he slipped his sneakers and tiny socks off, setting those neatly on the bar top as well. In answer, he scrambled up into the hollow of her massive hand, clad now only in his mesh shorts. Beck’s fingers trembled with excitement as they lifted him up to the top of the tiki bucket. When her hand withdrew, he looked up into her face, not surprised at all to find her flushed, almost panting.

He wondered if she was salivating—at the prospect of having him plunge between her lips again, even if only for a moment or two.

But he thought better about teasing her for it. He was no less excited. In fact, he was regretting wearing mesh shorts out that evening. If he’d been much larger, his erection straining the fabric on the front of his shorts would have been plainly visible.

He hoped it didn’t show on camera.

“All right Beck,” Ash said, leaning right over Simon to get the best angle. She was so close now that he could feel the heat of her body, as well as her breath on the back of his neck. “You saw the video, you know what to do. Put the whiskey in your mouth and open wide—and Simon, when you’re ready, you…”

“I think I get the idea.” Simon leaned over the edge of the platform. He was used to heights, and wasn’t afraid of falls. But even from the top of the bucket to the corner of the counter was the equivalent of thirty feet for him. Quite a plummet, even if it didn’t end in somebody’s mouth.

“Aim for the middle of her tongue,” Ash whispered to him. “I’ve seen what happens when tinies overshoot their mark… and that’s why it’s a trust fall. You get me?”

Simon flashed her a thumbs up, then waved to Beck. “You ready?” Wide-eyed, she nodded.

Ash squealed with delight. “And we… are live!” she announced. “Folks, this is Simon Groff’s first-ever trust fall. Can we get some love in the comments for the little man?”

Behind Simon, Ash’s phone pinged and blooped—likes and comments already rolling in.

“Whenever you’re ready…” she instructed him.

Beck scooped the shot glass off the counter. She raised it to her lips, but before she drank, Simon waved his arms to stop her. “Give me a little of that first.”

With a shy smile, Beck raised the glass up to Simon’s level. “Here you go.”

After a moment’s indecision, Simon plunged both hands into the yellow-amber liquid and scooped up a mouthful, bringing it quickly to his mouth before it slipped away. It burned his lips and throat going down, but almost immediately a bolt of intense warmth shot through him, and he felt his whole body go honey-soft. “Hey—that’s good!” he said.

“Of course it’s good, that’s top shelf stuff,” Ash replied. “Now, come on, come on, come on, you’re keeping your audience waiting. We’ve got a hundred and fifteen people tuned in!”

A hundred and fifteen people! The figure made Simon’s brain do cartwheels. But before he could ponder it further, Beck clinked the shot glass lightly against the front of him before bringing it back down to her lips.

“Cheers,” she said. She upended the glass into her mouth, draining it all.

Then she tilted her face, put her chin just beneath the lip of the counter—and opened wide.

It was an arresting sight. Her red lips, open in a loose O shape, framing the darkness waiting inside, and the liquor pooled at the very back of her mouth. He couldn’t see down her throat, her tongue was blocking it, keeping the whiskey in her mouth. But he couldn’t shake the feeling that when he jumped, he’d fall straight down into her and just keep falling, booze or not.

The thought made his head swim—and his pants tighter than ever.

Fuck it, he thought to himself. He turned toward Ash, and the watching online crowd.

“Bottoms up!” he sang out to them. Then crouched… leapt… and fell.

Air rushed past his face in a sudden terrific blast…

Then suddenly he was plunged into humid darkness. He slipped down Beck’s wet tongue like a Slip-n-Slide before splashing into the liquor at the back of her throat. He’d gone in feet first, and for a second his bare legs dangled over the precipice of her gullet. But then her tongue rose up, pressing him gently but firmly against the roof of her mouth. All around him, liquor drained away, until Beck swallowed it all with a single gulp that echoed around him.

“Mmmh,” Beck moaned—either at the flavor of the whiskey, or his own taste.

She sucked on him for a second, repositioning him inside her mouth. Then light spilled through her lips and she tilted her head forward, letting Simon spill out into her waiting hand. As his eyes readjusted to the bar lights, her face came into view: open-mouthed and panting slightly, with a look of sheer wildness in her eyes.

She brough her hand briefly back up to her lips. “My room again. Tonight. Please.”

Shivering but exhilarated, Simon could only nod.

Then Beck held her hand up toward Ash’s camera. Simon sprang to his feet in her palm, shook his hair out of his eyes, and swept forward into a deep theatrical bow.

“Aww. He enjoyed himself.” Ash’s gaze lingered on Simon’s groin, his enjoyment of the plunge fully on display through the crotch of his shorts. Sheepishly he swiveled away from the camera, covering himself with crossed hands. Ash continued narrating:

“And that’s how we play at Studio HGH! Check out our website for our weekly drink specials…”

Then she ended the stream. Beck set Simon down on the counter and fetched him a clean napkin to dry off with. “You want your clothes back?” she asked, watching him shiver.

Simon shook himself, heart still pounding. “Nah. With my luck, I’ll just get wet again.”

“Suit yourself,” she replied. But the implied invitation made her lips curl.

Ash thumped the bar top with her fist. “All right, party animals, what am I pouring now? After that show, I think you three earned a round. On the house.”