'Do you want to sleep in your jeans?' He asked. 'What are you doing?' I managed to ask through the haze. His hand was at my waist, undoing my belt. He lay down next to me and suddenly I felt something strange. I fell down on his bed, rolled over onto my back, and could feel the pass out coming. I sort of nodded, too drunk to really respond. 'Want to sleep foot to head?' He asked and laughed. I had no idea what was going on but a bed felt better than a couch. I promise I won't try anything.' He laughed and slapped my shoulder. 'Hey, come on.' He said 'You can sleep in the bed tonight. We walked in, I was falling down drunk (and I thought he was too) and immediately collapsed on the couch. 'Just crash on my couch,' he said 'I live close.' So now we were closing and I was drunk and I was telling him how much it would cost me to cab home. I was new, right? Maybe that's how they did things here. I knew I shouldn't be drinking on the job, but I also didn't know how to say no. It was a busy Saturday night and he had been feeding my drinks all night - shots, beers. This being my first week on the job, I didn't really know how the place ran. I was a barback at a pretty busy bar and he was the bartender. I was 19 years old, and this was my first job. 'You can crash at my place if you want.' He said.
