Cat enjoyed visiting the Acapulco Beach Bar. In spite of being in the middle of a land-locked state, its very name conjured up fond memories of where he'd like to be: At a tropical beach paradise. Even if the roaches, which upon occasion would slowly crawl upon the bar soaking up beer driblets, could make Cat forget those fond tropical memories, there was an asset that couldn't be overcome by the annoying creatures.
The barmaid was a Korean woman of indeterminate age. She did have a flat, almost bulldog-like face, but she had an extraordinarily gorgeous pair of legs and a decent, although by no means voluptuous body. Further yet, it appeared to Cat that June (nice change from "Kim", he thought) either found undergarments not worth the trouble, a waste of money or an impediment to good bar sales.
"Yes", mumbled Cat into his beer when June was in the walk-in cooler, "If you looked at that chick's legs, you'd swear to God she was only 23 or 24." He took a swallow and continued: "Her hands give her age to be 30… something, maybe 38, but um, um. Her face. Can't call it, dog" and then chuckled at his own joke.
June came out of the cooler carrying a case of Coronas. After making sure her eyes and thoughts were on something other than her only customer, he let his eyes drop to enjoy the sight of her very pointy, long-nippled tits gently showcased by June's satin blouse. Idly, he wondered if her nipples got any longer when ol' June was getting the hell licked out of her, wondered if they would hurt his tongue if they were jabbed against it, and was immensely grateful that the Acapulco Beach Bar had a walk-in cooler.
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Cat remembered the first evening he walked into the Bar. He had taken surreptitious glances at her chest to determine whether she was wearing a thin bra, a slip or nothing. It did take a while to determine because June, not knowing his monetary status, paid close and very nice attention to him. He did not want to get caught trying to burn a hole through her shirt. Eventually, he determined her sub-nudity and laughed to himself, wondering if her freedom of expression extended to her lower region covered, incidentally, by only a mini-skirt with a nice slit up the front of her left thigh. He admitted the unlikelihood to himself. "That would take big balls", he thought.
A beer later, when June had finished replenishing the beer stock in the display cooler, she hopped up on a bar stool across from him and proceeded to readjust her mini-skirt. Relishing the sight of more of those smooth, flawless legs, Cat received quite a shock when she flapped her skirt, unequivocally proving that not only was she not wearing panties, but she was clean shaven as well. Because her legs were crossed at the ankle, he didn't get a glance at her slit, but he was happy anyway. "This is food for fantasy", Cat had thought, and proceeded to leave his fantasies and observe, nothing more.
After the fourth beer, Cat could no longer contain himself.
"You have beautiful legs." he nearly blurted out.
"Oh". A pause ensued during which June leapt off her chair and made some pretense of cleaning the sink, refilling her Coke and applying lotion to her face, hands and arms.
"Umm. I hope I didn't offend you," Cat said finally.
"No, everyone tells me I have beautiful legs." June replied, almost as if she were wishing for some other compliment.
"Well it's true." Cat affirmed and then wished he could add something else. Face? He wasn't given to lying. Breasts? Asking for problems. Shave job? Ha.
He had let it go at that, finished his beer, thanked June and bid her good night.
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