'the' Dogwood Pub

Thanks to the weight of the grocery bags, Dave nudged yet another package through the pub with his foot.

"What did you order this time," he muttered, grinning.

Balancing on one foot, Dave awkwardly kicked the door shut. The sound of overlapping voices from several TVs filled the air as he turned, only to catch sight of his wife, Allie, shouting at the multiple screens above the "L"-shaped bar. After 15 years of marriage, he still couldn't help but admire her, especially her curves, accentuated by a snug pair of jeans. Too bad he couldn't give that perfect ass a little smack. Not until he got rid of the packages, anyway.

"Fucking hell!" she shouted.

"What are you doing," Dave asked, his gaze locked on the fiery redhead as he walked toward the kitchen.

"Trying to get the damn games on the TVs, but this crappy remote won't cooperate."

The short leg of the "L" bar faced the seating area, while the longer leg was closed off, ending at the door to the patio. Behind the bar were two large windowless openings. One led to the patio, and the other connected the kitchen to the bar. Both had shelves where servers could grab finished food or drinks. Allie slammed the remote down on the bar. "I need you to fix it, please."

Dave put away the groceries and glanced through the kitchen window towards the bar. "Fix what?"

"The TVs and the remote. Please fix them." Allie walked behind the bar, passing Dave's window where over 30 taps lined the back wall. She poured herself a pint. "All this is going to drive me to drink."

Dave chuckled. "You already drink."

"Then I'll drink more. Want one?"

"Sure." Dave watched as his wife removed clips from her curly auburn hair and fluffed it out only to gather it back into a ponytail and reattach the clips. Though he often thought of her as a redhead, Allie corrected him countless times, explaining the many shades- hers being auburn, not red. Her sister, Shelley, on the other hand, wasn't a redhead either, but a deep garnet.

As his wife stretched her back, Dave couldn't help but notice the way her blouse strained to hold her figure, the buttons barely keeping the shirt together. He smirked and said, "I'll tell you what- I'll take care of the TVs if you make sure to install the dishwasher once it arrives."

"That sounds a bit sexist," said Allie.

"Having me handle all the tech sounds pretty sexist to me," Dave countered.

"That's different. You haven't had to deal with centuries of gender roles forcing certain jobs upon you," said Allie, handing him a freshly poured pint.

"Neither have you. You're 46," Dave replied.

"Generational trauma. Read a book. Now, husband, fix the TV, please and thank you."

Dave chuckled. "Wait. You've been 'front of house' for how many years?"

"That's not the point."

"How did you fix the TVs back then?"

Allie winked. "I've always had boys to handle it."

"Like the trash?"

"Exactly- 'boy job'."

"When was the last time you took out trash?"

"I don't know.... 2002?"

Dave moved from the kitchen into the bar, stopping at the empty spot under the bar top where the dishwasher would be installed. The stone of the bar top felt cool beneath his fingertips. "Okay. I'll sort out the TVs. You handle the dishwasher installation when it arrives."

A knock at the door interrupted them. Allie strolled to the front. "We'll see."

"This doesn't sound like stereotyping, by the way- it sounds like selective incompetence," Dave called after her as he grabbed the remote.

"Less talking, more fixing," Allie shot back. She opened the door to let in a young woman. She was in her mid-20s, dressed in a tight black skirt and a light grey blouse. The woman tucked a loose strand of blonde hair behind her ear, the rest pulled back into a tight bun. Allie extended her hand. "Hey, Ms. Freestone, right? Welcome to Dogwood Pub."

Ms. Freestone shook Allie's hand and said, "Thank you so much, Mrs. Brown. I'm really looking forward to the opening. This place looks incredible so far."

"Please call me Allie and thank you for coming! Have you met my tech guy, Dave?"

Dave waved, sensing Ms. Freestone's confusion. "Ha ha, she's kidding, Ms. Freestone. Actually, I'm The Dogwood Pub's Head Chef... and head husband, Dave Brown."

"Ah, I see. It's great to finally put a face to the voice. Pleasure to meet you in person, Mr. Brown," Ms. Freestone replied, extending her hand.

Dave shook her hand with a wide grin. "Please. Call me Dave."

Allie rolled her eyes and mimed gagging by sticking her finger in her mouth.

Ms. Freestone held up a small portfolio. "I won't take up too much of your time. I just have some of the final paperwork that needs your signatures. I apologize we couldn't do it digitally, but my boss doesn't trust technology."

Allie laughed. "See, Dave? I'm not the only one."

"Yeah, yeah," Dave muttered. "But just so you know- trusting technology and knowing how to use it are two very different things."

"That's my boss for you," Ms. Freestone chuckled as she set a stack of papers on the bar in front of Dave and Allie. "I've taken the liberty of highlighting where I need initials and signatures. Most of them only need one of you to sign but I'll need both signatures at the end."

Allie grabbed a pen while Dave fiddled with the TVs. "Oh," said Ms. Freestone, "did you say this was 'The Dogwood Pub,' or just, 'Dogwood Pub?' Because here, you'll be signing for just, 'Dogwood Pub.'"

"'Dogwood Pub,'" said Allie.

"'The Dogwood Pub,'" said Dave.

They exchanged a look. Dave squinted at Allie. "I'm pretty sure we settled on 'The Dogwood Pub.'"

Allie smiled. "No, darling, we didn't. You did. But that was after me and all our friends thought it would be better as just, 'Dogwood Pub.'"

"Yeah," Dave replied, "but I'm the head chef."

"So?"

"So that means I get more of a say. My vote counts more."

Allie paused, leaned forward, and patted his cheek. "You're cute."

He glanced up at the TVs, then slapped the remote in frustration. "Goddammit!"

"May I?" asked Ms. Freestone, tucking another stray strand of hair behind her ear.

"Sure," Dave replied, handing her the remote.

"What channels were you trying to get on here?" she asked.

"All sports - any of them," Allie said, signing the stack of documents.

Dave looked at her. "What about the news?"

Allie and Ms. Freestone exchanged a glance. "The news?"

"Yeah," Dave said. "Depressed people eat and drink more."

Allie gave him a deadpan look. "Is that really what we want? Depressed people at Dogwood?"

"I mean, it's probably better than them watching sports and getting all riled up."

Allie shook her head. "Sports are way better. We're not going to be known as 'Dogwood Pub- the place where dreams go to die.'"

Ms. Freestone nodded. "Yeah, sports are better. In fact, depending on your sports packages, I can put a different sport on each TV."

Dave took a swig from his pint eyeing the TVs. "What about just one TV for the news?"

"No," Allie replied. "I'm 'front of house' and my vote weighs more."

"What the hell," Dave muttered looking at his wife, her grin stretching from one side of her face to the other. Her rosy lips were always ridiculously tempting. She passed some papers that needed his signature.

"Besides, babe, it looks like you're no better than me at this and it would take you forever to figure out how to switch it back without messing up the other TVs."

"You may have won this battle, love, but not the war," said Dave, eyeballing Allie. He glanced up at the TVs. "Oh, good! You fixed them!"

Dave signed off on the last page. Ms. Freestone gathered the documents and put them back in her portfolio. "Well, if you need the TVs changed again, just let me know. This place looks like a great spot to hang out."

Dave said, "Well, Ms. Freestone-"

"Kayla," she interrupted with a smile.

"Kayla- we'll send you an invite to 'Friends and Family Night' so you can try everything out."

"I'd love that."

"But could you please put the news on one of the TVs?"

"Not without your wife's permission."

Allie smiled, "I knew you were a girl's girl, Kayla."

After signing the paperwork, Allie led Ms. Freestone to the door, and they exchanged their goodbyes.

Dave walked behind the bar and bent over to inspect the open space where the dishwasher was supposed to go. Allie walked past him and gave his ass a playful smack. "She was pretty, huh?"

"To be honest, I didn't even notice."

Allie jumped up to sit on top of the bar. "I find that hard to believe. You're the kind of guy who knows the exact moment to pull pasta from the pot and you didn't notice how hot she was?"

"Darlin'," Dave said, standing up and stepping between her legs. "You know I only have eyes for you."

"But she was pretty."

"She was pretty, but not my favorite kind of pretty." He ran his hands up her legs and held her hips tight as he leaned in for a kiss. Allie grabbed his face and locked her lips to his. Dave broke free to move his kisses down her neck.

She let out a soft moan as his hands moved up her sides. Allie gasped, "And what's your favorite kind of pretty?"

Dave chuckled. "The kind of pretty that belongs to me."

Allie wrapped her legs around his torso while he moved down to her cleavage. "You know, babe, we still haven't christened this place yet."

"Any choice of where you would?"

"Anywhere. Everywhere- minus the floor."

"Ready to begin right now?"

Allie took in a breath as her legs pulled his hips into her, his hardness pressing against her. "Wait. Isn't Cynthia coming over soon for some designs?"

Dave moved back up her neck. "We rescheduled for tomorrow. So, we have the place to ourselves."

Allie closed her eyes as she felt his lips caress the length of her neck. She opened her eyes and spied the package he had placed down earlier. "Wait- that came today?"

"Well- I don't know about you, but I plan on coming today," Dave mumbled into her neck.

Allie unwrapped her legs and pushed Dave back. "Har har. No, dummy. That package came in today?"

"I guess. I'm more concerned about another package."

Allie slid off the bar and grabbed the delivery. "Don't worry, babe," she said, patting him through his jeans. "I have a surprise for you."

Dave let out a low growl. "Is it really that important?"

"Babe, I promise you, this surprise has been in the works for a while, and we will definitely keep our christening plans for later today," Allie said, darting to the back office. "Be back in a few."

Dave watched her hips sway as she disappeared around the corner to the office. He shifted uncomfortably, adjusting himself, then moved toward the kitchen. Though his thoughts lingered on what awaited him later, he knew he needed to focus on finalizing the food menu. If he had to wait, he'd make sure it was for a good reason. As all men know, nothing gets women going more than feeding them great food. And he was a trained chef, after all.

A little while later, Dave finished his dish and brought it to the bar for him and Allie to enjoy. From the back office, he heard, "Okay I'm ready!"

Dave's jaw dropped. "No way."

Allie pranced to him in a dirndl, spinning for his approval. "Well?"

"You're a German beer wench," he whispered.

"I am, indeed, a German beer wench. You know I take being 'front of house' seriously and I also take my role as 'head server' seriously. What do you think?"

Dave's face was beaming. "Oh, you know I love it. I can't believe you did this for me."

Allie clasped her arms together. "And this outfit really shows off my assets, doesn't it?"

"It really does," Dave said, feeling his pants tightening, for the second time in half an hour.

"It's all because I love you," she said, playfully biting her fingertip.

"Is all of this just for me?"

"This is just for you, honey." Allie whispered as her hand palmed his hardening dick, "Are you ready to play?"

"Oh, fuck yes," said Dave.

Suddenly, the door to the pub swung open, causing Allie to gasp and duck behind the bar to avoid being seen.

"Hey, Dave, how's it going?" a pink-haired woman asked as she walked toward him.

"Hey, uh, Cynthia, I'm good. How are you?" Dave replied, only to feel a smack on his leg. Looking down, he saw Allie crouched in the open space where the dishwasher was going to be installed. She had a finger pressed to her lips, her eyes wide with disapproval, silently scolding him for getting the time wrong about the appointment.

Cynthia sat down at the bar, placing her satchel bag onto her lap. "Doing well, doing well. I've got those designs for the wall colors and mural for you to look over. And, uh, I'm sorry- but did you make food? Whatever it is, it smells amazing!"

"Uh, yes, I did."

Cynthia looked over Dave's shoulder. "Is Allie around?"

"She is-" Dave felt Allie squeeze his leg firmly, "-not. She, uh, stepped out for a bit."

"Oh, too bad. That food really does smell incredible. Looks great, too. What is it exactly?"

"They're mini banh mi burritos. I marinated the pork overnight and pickled the veggies this morning. Instead of using a baguette, I thought I'd try a burrito-style wrap. So, I made an experimental batch. Though, I guess calling it banh mi might be a stretch now. Anyway, would you like to try some?"

Cynthia grinned. "I thought you'd never ask."

Dave looked down at Allie's very unimpressed face and pursed lips. "I'm sorry Cynthia, but I thought we were meeting tomorrow? Did I get the date wrong?"

Cynthia reached for a burrito. "Oh shit! You're right! I totally forgot we changed the date."

Dave reached down and patted Allie's head, flashing her a smug smile. She promptly bit him. "Ouch!

"You okay," Cynthia asked, concerned.

"Yep, just brushed against a jagged corner. Still need to fix a few things."

Cynthia took a bite of the burrito. "Mmmm. Holy shit, this is amazing."

"Yeah. You like it?"

Cynthia took another bite. "Hell yeah, this is really fucking good. Can I have another one?"

"Of course," Dave said, grinning as Allie pinched him. "Because. I. Can. Always. Make. More."

Cynthia nodded enthusiastically, savoring her bite. "Seriously, Dave, these are so good. I hope the rest of your food is like this."

"I'm going to work like hell to make sure it is."

Cynthia looked behind him at a plaque. "You're CIA? No wonder."

"Yeah. Allie and I graduated the same year."

"She cooks, too?"

"God, no." Pinch. "She's Beverage and Wine Management."

"Oh, I didn't realize there were other programs there."

"Yep. Here- try this," Dave said, pushing a ramekin of sauce toward her.

Cynthia dipped a bite and stuffed it into her mouth. With her mouth full, she mumbled, "Ohmahgahd. Thish ish dellishus."

Dave laughed. "Thanks! I really appreciate that."

Just then Dave registered Allie's touch. Her hand slid beneath his balls and glided up over his dick, giving it a squeeze as she reached for the button on his pants. Feeling his jeans slacken as the button released, he felt the tug of his zipper being pulled down.

"Can I try another one?" asked Cynthia.

"Absolutely," Dave replied. "A chef always appreciates when someone enjoys their dish." He let out a nervous laugh, his voice unusually high-pitched.

Just then, Allie pulled his boxers down, freeing his now hardening cock. Allie gently drew him forward, his length growing with her touch. A flick of her tongue on the tip of his dick made him clear his throat.

"Wow, Dave, this is really good. I really mean it," Cynthia said.

"Maybe it should be on our appetizer list then?" Dave suggested.

"Definitely. This sauce is incredible too!"

Allie tugged him closer, causing him to lurch forward against the bar as she took his entire length into her mouth. "Oh-h-h, yeah," he stammered.

Cynthia gave him a puzzled look. Dave quickly covered, "I think I just had an idea for another sauce."

He felt Allie's mouth withdraw to the tip of his dick. Her tongue began to caress beneath his tip causing his pleasure to build like pressure in a cooker.

Cynthia asked, "Anything else you'd like another opinion on for your upcoming menu?"

Dave put on a thoughtful expression, but his mind was elsewhere - specifically, on Allie's hand pumping his cock while her tongue swirled around his head. He worried that he might climax while talking to Cynthia, a thought that both excited and unsettled him. Not enough to want her to stop though, as Allie was an exceptionally skilled... 'head server' after all. "Maybe. But not right now. I thought our meeting was tomorrow, so I planned on checking all the beer lines and making sure everything is in order."

"Yeah, sorry about that," Cynthia said, looking slightly disappointed that no more food would be forthcoming. "We can reschedule."

As Cynthia checked her phone's calendar, Dave's hand reached down, his fingers running through Allie's hair.

"Are you available this weekend," she asked.

"Oh, wow," he blurted. Allie slipped Dave's cock out of her mouth only to replace the void with his thumb.

"So, uh, is that a yes or a no," Cynthia asked, tilting her head.

Dave chuckled. "That works for me. It's a shame you're not available tomorrow, Allie and I are both free and I know she would love to see what you've got planned."

"Let's see," said Cynthia.

Dave closed his eyes. He could feel the pull of her lips as she moved and the squeeze of her throat as she continued to take his entire length. While he was distracted, Allie's hand caressed and slightly pulled his balls.

Dave glanced at Cynthia, still focused on her phone and found himself moving in sync with Allie.

Just then, Cynthia looked up, her expression pensive, eyes immediately widening in realization, just as Allie did something unexpected.

She inserted her finger in his ass.

"Oh, fuck," Dave shouted as he felt a surge of release into Allie's mouth.

"Oh, fuck," echoed Cynthia.

They exchanged glances across the bar, Cynthia gathering her things, while Dave, acutely aware of the roll of Allie's tongue and her firm grip.

Dave stared at Cynthia in horror, hoping she hadn't discerned the situation. Cynthia apologized, "Sorry, sorry, sorry!"

"What?" he responded, silently praying she hadn't noticed his momentary distraction.

"Dammit- because I mixed up my days I'm late for another appointment!"

As relief spread through his body, Dave relaxed his shoulders. "Oh, that's what you're worried about," he quickly replied. "I hope it didn't mess up the rest of the week's schedule."

"Is that why you yelled too," asked Cynthia.

"Yep, that's it. Exactly."

Cynthia dashed for the door. "Alright, sorry! I'll catch you and Allie tomorrow, same time!"

"Same place," he yelled back.

As the door clicked shut Dave stepped back from the bar, noticing Allie's grin. One that a predator might make after it catches its prey. She giggled.

"Goddamn, woman," Dave exclaimed, "that was fucking amazing." He pulled up his boxers and pants, tucking himself back into his jeans.

Allie laughed. "You didn't see that coming, did you?"

"A finger in the ass? Where the hell did you learn that?"

Allie pushed herself up to her knees and walked to the small sink. "Smut, babe. Thought I'd give it a shot. That, and my sister mentioned that Dan loves it when she does it to him."

"So, you chose to try that while someone else was in the room?"

"Why not? I mean, your dick was right in front of my face. What else was I supposed to do?"

"You're grinning like you just won a bet or something," he said.

"I did."

"With whom?"

She shrugged. "Myself."

"Yourself?"

Allie straightened out her outfit. "Yep. I was wondering if I could spice things up at my age."

"Because we're old?"

"Because you're old. I'm just not a naturally daring woman," she laughed.