The following is a running fantasy of mine that I wanted to see if I could put to words at my first attempt at erotic stories. A bit of feedback would be greatly appreciated.
It is a little long winded, but I think it's worthwhile.
The air was heavy and damp. The basement cellar of this old hotel was stifling in the heat, but the respite of the cool room beckoned once the kegs were organised. Each of the beer filled containers were scattered and stacked randomly in the cramped space, and order had to be made so that the pub would have enough beer on hand and ready for the busy upcoming week of spring.
Michael's Saturday morning shift at the pub had started as most usually did, an early rise and a quick 5km run, followed by a hearty breakfast, and a quick rinse shower. There would be a lot more sweat spilled that day through the efforts of managing the towns only pub, but Michael loved to feel fresh at the start of his shifts. He lingered in the embrace of the flowing water; this was his favourite part of his preparation ritual. In the shower, Michael felt as though it was a perfect chance to recharge and admire his own physique, his 26 year old 6'2" frame was athletic and well maintained through regular exercise. This offered him a release and outlet of stress he accumulated in his usually very busy week schedule. Juggling two part time jobs and a full time study at University meant that there was little time in his week for very much socialising. He mused that he had many friends through his work and studies, but had little time to engage in any pursuit of romantic interests, and as he lathered between his legs, Michael felt himself respond to his own touch. Realising that he had to get to work, Michael focused on the intended task of the shower and rinsed off in the cold flow.
Once he had opened up and let the restaurant staff in, Michael went to work on getting the pub ready for the day's trade. He briefly indulged in some harmless flirting with the married waitress and charmed his way into a free coffee to give him an extra kick while he counted the previous day's takings to prepare the financials for the weekend. Michael never really thought of himself as being a knockout stud, but also never had a worry when it came to talking to women. It had always been a gift, with his natural humour, easy going attitude and cheeky dimples, he found he could usually get along quite well with members of the opposite sex when allowing himself to.
The morning progressed as he prepared the pub, and his own staff started to arrive for their shifts. Since taking on the position as manager in the pub when he relocated to the small town 2 years ago, Michael had managed to foster a fantastic working relationship with his staff. They all enjoyed working with him, and he found that not only were they the easiest group of people to work with, but that he actually looked forward to spending time with them at work. With the demands of his studies, Michael found that work in the hospitality industry suited the hours he had available to him. In positions that he held previously, Michael usually ended up sick of the work, the hours, and the patrons he had to deal with. In this pub, he felt at home, comfortable and confident in his work.
Emma and Tim had come in by 10 to open up the two bars in the hotel.
"Hey Tim, how's things mate?" Michael called out when Tim had come in.
"Not bad Mike, same old, same old. You should have come out last night though mate, it was a ripper of a party."
"I can tell" Michael stated matter-of-factly as he noticed Tim wince in the sunlight and the way Tim moved about gingerly.
"Yeah, a little worse for wear this morning" Tim admitted.
"How about you chill out today in the restaurant Tim, it's going to be pretty quiet by the looks of things, so you can rest up a bit there."
"Thanks Mike, you're a legend mate, I owe you one"
Both Tim and Emma had started working at the pub since Michael had begun managing the place, and had been young and inexperienced with hospitality work from the very start. But now, through working alongside them and showing them the way, Michael trusted the two of them to handle running the bars on their own without his supervision or presence. On these weekend shifts, this freed up some time to organise and prepare the stock for the rest of the week.
Just before she was supposed to start, Emma came bursting through the front door.
"You a little under the weather as well?" Michael probed when Emma looked a little flustered dumping her handbag behind the main bar.
"Not this morning Mike just slept in a little unfortunately. Jeff got up and left this morning without even waking me up to say bye"
"It's all good, there's no one here at the moment anyway. I've sent Tim into the restaurant bar for today though, because it sounded like he had a pretty massive hangover he's trying to nurse over there."
"That's all good, it just means you'll have the pleasure of sharing my company over here" Emma bounced back, with a cheeky grin.
"Pleasure or pain?" Michael quipped, quickly dodging her reprimanding slap. Once they had settled, Michael let Emma know he had to leave her alone in the main bar, while he went out the back of the bar and down the stairs to address the cellar and cool room, along with the dreaded keg shuffle.
Halfway through the work, Michael took a break with a bottle of water in the cool room, mostly so that he could catch his breath and get a chance to cool off. As he sat, he recalled last week when he had needed assistance in dropping some of the kegs down from street level into the cellar. He had lined them up outside and all they required was a slight nudge to get them sliding down the chute into the cellar area. Emma had jumped on the opportunity to help, and Michael got her to stand at the top and nudge each one down as he would catch them on the chute and set them up to be put in the cool room. Due to the fact that he had been well below street level, and Emma had a penchant to a shortening of the uniform skirt for the pub, Michael had to try very hard to be a gentleman and not glance in any untoward manner. As it was, he had caught a glimpse by accident, and he noticed her white and neat black lace panties that were supposed to be hidden from view. Michael had made sure to look away quickly after he realised he was staring for a moment, but he was sure that Emma had noticed. He had carried on being more careful about looking up, and when all the kegs had been dropped down, he was surprised when Emma had called down to him.
"Hey Mike, catch me!"
He paused for a minute, trying to figure out why she didn't just make the short jump from the bottom steps herself, but not wanting to disappoint, he had done so with ease, her small frame weighing no more than one of the kegs. As he let her down to the ground, he couldn't help but notice her large breasts pressed against his chest, and tried to maintain as much of a respectable amount of contact as possible, failing miserably despite his efforts.
"I'd uhh, I'd better get back behind the bar..." Emma mumbled after their awkward embrace, before she disappeared up the stairs.
"Uhhhm, yeah. Good idea." Michael had mumbled much to his relief, as he desperately needed to readjust himself as he jeans had become remarkably uncomfortable and restraining.
Michael had tried to maintain a very professional level of boundaries in his work, and aimed to keep his interactions with his staff as plutonic as possible. As it was, Emma was proving to be a difficulty for him. Although she had a boyfriend, she was constantly complaining about his failings in their relationship, and she would consistently turn up to staff drinks without him. Michael had developed a liking to the way she presented herself in her work...and in other ways. She was a very attractive young woman, and she knew well how to best accentuate her petite hourglass figure and large breasts to the point that it made her the most popular bartender in the pub when it came to the male patrons. It seemed to Michael that there was a distinct amount of chemistry between him and Emma, their innuendos and playful jokes bordering on flat out flirting. Yet he persisted with a respectful distancing due to her already existing relationship.
∆∆∆
Emma had listened to Michael working away downstairs, the sounds of the kegs banging around in the cellar, reminding her of the previous week when she had insisted on helping him with the kegs instead letting Tim drop the kegs down. When Michael had gone next door to ask Tim when he was ready, Emma made sure to intercept Michael. She had one of her favourite pairs of panties on without her stockings that usually adorned her smooth legs in the past few winter months. She knew this would give her the opportunity to test Michael as she stood above him, to see if he would steal a glance, to see just how interested he might be in more than just her work ethic. As the first few kegs were down the chute, Emma noticed how hard Michael had tried to avoid looking up. She figured she would try and catch him off guard, and sure enough, as she bent over in an exaggerated manner for one of the last few kegs, she spotted him glancing. All of a sudden, Emma was a little scared for what this meant, and wanted to see what would happen if she pushed the boundaries just a little more.
As she descended, she called out to Michael for him to catch her. When they embraced, she felt his strong muscles hold her securely; his sweaty body firm against her, and became incredibly nervous. There was a moment that followed that was almost unbearable, and Emma made sure to get out of there quickly. She went back behind the bar and tried to mull over what had happened. She felt guilty and almost dirty for what she had done, but at the same time incredibly excited. She had wanted to drop Jeff, her on again, off again boyfriend, but still was unsure of how Michael felt about it. During the long hours they shared behind the bar, Emma found herself connecting with Michael in an unimaginable way. The more time the spent together, the more she had seen just how sexy and alluring he was. His wit, his body, those dimples. She caught herself daydreaming and fantasizing about him, it was all becoming too much. She knew how he looked at her, the genuine way he cared for her and laughed with her.
Something had to be done.
But it would have to wait. Since the cellar incident, things had become uncomfortable and awkward between her and Michael. She had wanted to address it, but at the same time, felt that she didn't want to put too much emphasis on the contact they shared, in case Michael had not realised just how much it had affected her.
Something definitely had to be done.
∆∆∆
A couple of weeks following, on a particularly brisk Friday night, the rotation of the roster saw Michael and Emma closing together. Since that weekend almost a month prior, their interactions had been brief and they hadn't had much time spent together behind the bar. Michael was leading up to his exams and was squeezing in extra revision with his studies during the quieter hours of the evening behind the bar. Tonight, he didn't think he'd get much of a chance, because when he was working with Emma, the night seemed to fly past in a whirl of laughter and thought provoking discussions.
The afternoon and early evening was very busy, with chat kept to a minimum, and personal space almost non-existent as they met the rush of people celebrating the end of the working week. As orders flew thick and fast, and Michael rushed around behind the narrow bar, there were many occasions where he might have brushed or pressed against Emma without any intention or holding any significance to it. That's just how it was behind the bar, a veritable crucible of movement and contact between bartenders as they go about their job. However, as the night progressed, the customers began to dwindle and soon the general socially acceptable space was restored behind the bar. A couple of times, when Emma had come to talk to him, he noticed the way she would touch his arm or brush her chest against him, and as there was no urgency in her movements, nor a need to be so close, Michael noticed his jeans getting uncomfortable yet again.
What was this? Was he reading into it too much? Why was he so responsive to her? He still maintained his distance when he could.
"He's such a dick" Emma had blurted out after checking her phone.
"What did you call me?" Michael responded, a little hurt and indignant. He was halfway down the bar trying to clean up a little and hadn't heard her properly.
"No, not you Mike. Jeff. He was supposed to pick me up tonight after work, but apparently he's had too much to drink and he can't drive"
"That's alright, I can give you a lift home, no dramas" Michael told her, it's not like it's been the first time he's had to do it.
"I hate having to ask you to go out of your way, I'll just walk"
"Are you kidding? You're not walking home by yourself this late" If something were to happen to her, Michael would have been shattered.
"Thanks Mike, I really appreciate it" Emma said warmly.
As their snippets of discussions progressed, it had somehow gotten back to Emma's dropkick of a boyfriend. She complained about how he was so distant, that his touch was so far and few between that it had been months since the last time they shared each other's bodies, and even then it had been mechanical and abrupt.
"Don't worry Emma, it's been months for me too." Michael admitted, trying to comfort her, but shocked when he actually realised it had been nearly a year since his last romantic encounter.
