The Bareep and the Model

The barkeep and the model Pt. 02

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Back inside I spent the next couple of hours mingling with the crowd. My staff were excellent and I wasn't needed to help out. Instead I chatted up our regulars and introduced myself to folks I didn't recognize. As I was catching up with Ronnie, a regular, I spotted a guy I didn't know stumbling as he stood up from his barstool. He staggered into the Men's room and a few minutes later, staggered back towards the bar.

I signaled Rob to cut the guy off as I walked up next to him and spoke. "Hi, I'm Dusty. I own this place. How are you doing tonight?"

"Jess great if I can get a refill on my drank," he slurred.

"Are these your keys?" I asked as I grabbed them off the bar.

"Hey, yeah they are. Gimme," he said, almost shouting.

"I think you've had enough for tonight. And too much to drive. If you'll give me your address, I'll call a rideshare for you. My treat," I said.

"Ah man, I'm cebralating tonight. Jus one more, okay?"

"Sorry, state law. Once we identify that a patron is inebriated we're required to cut them off. May I see your driver's license, please?"

The entire time I made certain to look him in the eye. If you stay calm, but firm, they rarely cause trouble. I pulled my cell phone out and opened the rideshare app. "License?" I repeated.

He pulled out his wallet somewhat reluctantly but handed it to me. "Is this your current address," I asked while looking at the license.

"Yeah," he mumbled.

I put in the pickup point and the destination and submitted the request. Being Friday night and Dusty's being a popular place, there were several cars just a few minutes away. I walked him outside and in just a minute or two the rideshare arrived. I handed his wallet back and opened the back door to usher him in before walking around to the driver's door.

"He might need a little help getting into his house," I whispered.

"No problem," the driver said before driving off.

Fifteen minutes later the app notified me that 'I' had been delivered to 'my' destination and asked if I wanted to tip the driver. I gave him twenty percent and closed the app.

"Thanks, boss. I was just about to cut that guy off," Rob said.

"Probably one drink too late, Rob," I replied.

"Yeah. He's one of those guys who seems completely sober then Bang! one more sip and he toast," Rob explained. I knew exactly what he was talking about. In my business we all hate that type of customer. Best thing to do is flag them in case they return. If they do we have to cut them off before they hit that point, which often creates an irate customer. Not good but better than risking our alcohol license.

The night wound down and I pitched in to help the staff clean up and close out the shift. We closed at 1 a.m. Fridays and Saturdays and finished up by about 1:45. After bidding everyone a good night I locked up and headed upstairs to get to bed.

I was up at eight and downstairs shortly thereafter. I had two liquor and one beer delivery coming and state law requires payment on delivery. I fired up the coffee pot and waited for the trucks to arrive. As each showed up I verified that the deliveries matched what I'd ordered and the invoices they presented. I wrote out each check and thanked the delivery guys - all of whom I knew from the years they'd been coming. Then I stowed the liquor and filled the beer coolers with bottles to chill. Kegs had been wheeled into the cooler by the delivery guy.

The entire time I walked through the required motions by rote as my mind was on Xanthe. I analyzed every bit of our conversation the prior night vacillating between 'She was just being friendly' and 'She's into me, right? She did agree to another date.' Then I realized how out of character that was for me. I'm usually very confident and decisive, traits I acquired in the service. In Special Forces you don't survive multiple deployments and dozens of engagements by being wishy washy.

At ten thirty the day shift showed up to open the place for lunch. They had an hour before we unlocked the doors but all were experienced and knew what had to be done. With only friendly chatter with one another, each automatically did all the things they knew were needed to serve our customers.

Just before noon my message notification played and I was a bit surprised to see a text from Xanthe. With the studying and paper she'd said she needed to do I wasn't expecting to hear from her until later in the afternoon.

'Hey sexy. Take a gal to lunch?' I read.

'Thought you were up to your neck in school work,' I answered.

'I am but I'm starved. Can't work on an empty stomach.'

'How about I bring you some takeout. That is, if you're okay giving me your address. Quicker than if we go out to eat.'

'Awesome! Thanks. Can I get some soup and a salad?'

'Soup du jour is New England Clam Chowder. That okay?'

'Perfect!'

'K. I'll get the kitchen started on it. Text me your address and I'll let you know when I'm on the way.'

Half an hour later I rang her doorbell, lunch in hand. Xanthe opened the door wearing a huge smile, cute white shorts, and a summery blouse. Her hair was in a ponytail. All in all, a huge change from the night before when she'd come straight from work to Dusty's. Last night she exuded the fashion model vibe. Today she was every bit as beautiful but in an almost girl next door way.

With our food in my hands I couldn't fend off her tight hug and deep kiss even if I'd wanted to. Naturally that would have been the last thing I wanted. Mamma didn't raise no fool! When she finally broke off I was able to say "You look great today! Casual suits you."

"Thanks. I enjoy dressing professionally for work but off-duty I'm just a gal," she replied. "C'mon, we can sit in the kitchen to eat."

Her apartment was small, but clean, neat, and nicely furnished. "Did you do the decor yourself, or cheat and hire someone like I did," I asked.

She laughed and said, "I did it. But I don't think you cheated anymore than me hiring a handyman when I need something done. I stick to what I know - no shame in that. If you don't have the decorator's eye, best to find someone who does."

"Wish I'd met you years ago. Could have saved what I paid my decorator by getting you to do it," I said.

"Is that the only reason you wish we'd met years ago," she teased.

"Absolutely not. I woke up thinking about you and haven't stopped since," I admitted.

"I understand. I had to keep pushing thoughts of us out of my mind so I could concentrate on my studies. I'm pretty confident I'll do well on the test Monday night. Just have to get the paper cranked out for Tuesday. I have the concept laid out in my mind, just have to write the words," she said.

"I'm sure you'll nail them both," I told her as we unboxed her salad, my Club sandwich, and our bowls of soup. Still hot despite the drive over, we dug in, chatting idly between mouthfuls.

When we finished she said "Thanks again. It was delicious! And getting to see you again is an extra treat. I like to write my papers then set them aside. I pick them back up the next day and try to read them with fresh eyes. I'm pretty sure I'll have the first pass done in a few hours, so if you still want to get together we can have dinner, unless you need to be at the bar since it's Saturday."

"I usually do hang around the bar most days but to be honest, I'm rarely needed. My staff is excellent and I trust them completely. Do you like Asian? Have you been to the Food Terminal?" I said.

"Yes and no. Is it good?"

"Very. They do sushi, Chinese, Vietnamese and some Thai. I've been craving their pho lately."

"Perfect. Can you pick me up about six thirty?" she asked.

"Absolutely. No need to dress up - while the food is beyond compare the decor and atmosphere is fairly mundane. Clean, just not fancy," I explained.

"Gotcha. Now I have to say, with reluctance, time for you to get out of here. I have work to do!"

She walked me to the door where we stood and frenched for several minutes. This time I let my hands wander down to her enticing ass and massaged it gently, prepared to pull back at the first signal of any displeasure. On the contrary, my manipulations caused her to moan softly into my mouth as we kissed.

Much to my regret I let go of her marvelous ass cheeks and broke off our kiss. Just as last night I could tell my member was going to respond quickly unless I did so.

"See you at seven," she said, smiling.

"Count on it. Now get to work!" I said, feigning sternness.

"Yes, sir!" she replied, saluting. I laughed and left while she closed the door behind me. I felt like I was floating on air as I walked across the parking lot to my car. I headed back to Dusty's where I checked on the receipts and touched base with each employee. The afternoon passed uneventfully and after filling Rob in on my plans I went up to my apartment around six to shower, shave for the second time that day, and dressed for dinner.

I rang Xanthe's bell right at seven and she opened the door so quickly I guessed she'd been standing behind it, waiting. She was dressed in a beautiful yellow sundress. The color was perfect against her skin, which I had decided to call 'mocha'. The ponytail was gone and her shiny black hair hung down almost to the top of her breasts in the front.

"I can't believe how gorgeous you are," I said as I moved in to kiss her deeply. "What in the world are you doing with a dusty old guy like me?"

"Oh, I plan to knock most of the dust off you," she grinned. "And I'll bet you're going to love how I do it!"

There was now no doubt in my mind that she was intentionally making sexual innuendos. I knew we'd end up in bed together, but wondered when. I didn't want to move too fast and offend her, but neither did I want to go so slow she lost interest. For not the first time in my life I hated the fact that most of us guys are horrible at reading women's hints.

Xanthe grabbed her over-sized purse and locked the door behind us. We drove to the restaurant and were seated almost immediately since I'd had the foresight to make a reservation. I knew how popular this place is from prior experience.

We started with two appetizers -banh beo, which are steamed rice cakes topped with shrimp, and vegetable spring rolls. Xanthe was thrilled to find cao lau on the menu. She explained she'd discovered this dish years earlier during a photo shoot in the ancient town of Hoi An where it originated. Its unique combination of thick noodles, succulent pork, and fresh herbs sounded delicious. I, of course, ordered the chicken-based pho ga I'd been craving.

Dinner went great with both of us flirting shamelessly throughout the meal. When we finished, I asked "Would you care for an after-dinner drink and/or coffee?"

"Only if we can have them back at your place," she smiled. I quickly settled the bill and escorted her to the car. We drove to Dusty's and parked in the alleyway behind the bar. I unlocked the back door which took us into the dry goods storage room and through to the kitchen. I greeted everyone there by name as we continued on into the restaurant itself.

"What would you like," I asked.

"Coffee with Bailey's, please," she replied.

"In or on the side?"

"Can I have both, please?" she said, smiling.

I slipped behind the bar and poured a dash of Bailey's into a coffee cup then filled it, along with a second, black cup for me. Then I filled a liqueur glass with Bailey's and a brandy glass for myself. I grabbed a small tray and loaded them all onto it before leading her back to the elevator.

While I set our drinks out in the living room, Xanthe grabbed her purse and excused herself to the bathroom. I sipped my coffee while I waited for her. I looked up when I heard the door open and my jaw dropped. Xanthe's 'purse' was over-sized to conceal the outfit she was now wearing. The babydoll chemise was black with red, abstract flowers highlighted in green. The left side was slit about seven inches while the brassiere cups were patterned lace that hinted at the delights within while still hiding her nipples.

"Wow!" I finally managed to squeak out.

"Does that mean you like it?" she asked.

"Oh I like the outfit very much. But it doesn't hold a candle to the beauty wearing it," I said truthfully.

She walked over and knelt on the floor next to me. "Is this okay, Dusty? I don't want you to think I'm a cheap floozy but I want to be with you. May I stay the night?"

A/N: When I write a story for the Romance category I attempt to make the erotic scenes reflect "romantic love making" rather than "sex and fucking" of some of my other stories. As a result, these stories are something of a slow burn. Be patient - we'll get there very soon. Thanks.