WWOA: Wild World Of Alexis. This came out a bit longer than I had planned--due to background to make this a several part series. Also, in this Chapter, sex is only at the end. Thanks.
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Ever since Hurricane Katrina (dat beeeeeyoooootccch!), I've become a bit of a recluse. She stole a lot of dat joie de vivre from me that we folks from down in south Louisiana are known for.
So the following tale (or is it tail, hehehe) that I'm fixin' to tell y'all about, was a surprise, even to me.
It was Valentine's Day, and probably a year or so since the last time I went down to the bar up on the highway to have a few drinks with someone other than Charlie, da Sam'mich dawg. (Went in for a sam'mich, came out with a puppy. Geeesh, I'm still paying for dat day. Shoulda been my best warning about excess drinking. Now, he's my partner in crime. Charlie is usually welcome everywhere I goβhell, I think folks like him more than they do me.) ;)
Anyways, like I said, it was Valentine's Day, and a single guy can only take so many romantic comedies. (A billion fuckin' satellite channels--and not a freakin' action movie in sight. Like a woman is gonna let a guy off d'at easy on this day by staying home and watching FREE movies on TV???) Time for the sports bar and some manly man drinkin' & sports.
Danny, the bartender greeted me as I found my old spot, up against the wall at the corner of the bar, and slid into the barstool like it was only yesterday since I'd been there. (Like Wild Bill Hickok learned, never let ANYONE get behind ya.) A shot of Black Seal Rum and an Abita TurboDawg showed up without me ordering them, and it felt like I'd never been gone.
"Hey Danny, another round... and get one for yourself."
"Can't."
"Since when? You on da wagon?"
"Me? On da wagon? Nah, new manager's rules, drinking on shift is a fireable offense."
"Shit, Mike ain't gonna let that happen."
"Man, you have been away. Everything's changed around here, including Mike."
A couple of drinks later, the Hornets and CP3 & Co. were stinging da Lakers late in the 4th quarter and the bar was going nuts.
It was a great night--and I didn't even mind the four morons crammed into the space of 3 barstools next to me. Or the cute lil blonde (If I had my druthers, she'd be a redhead. lol) at the other end of the bar that they kept jaw-jackin' with. (Dang! I just realized there are a lot of women in here tonight.)
CP3 just alley-ooped one to Tyson, with a foul. High 5s and drinks all around--then the TVs all changed to some flowery screensaver-type thingy.
HEY!!! WHAT DA HELL'S GOING ON???
The shouts reverberated around the bar.
PUT DA FUCKIN' GAME BACK ON!!!
I grabbed Danny, "What da hell's going on? Put da Hornets back on so we can catch the end."
He looked like someone had just shorted him a tip, as he nodded towards the bandstand across the bar, "The boss's new girlfriend, she'll tell ya. Here, on me. You're gonna need it." And set me up with a double. (Oh shit! This can't be good.)
A cartoonish, overly made-up, big-tittied blonde was at the mic on the bandstand now. (Bet she needed triple spandex to keep from saggin'.) And gawd, she was dressed like she was proud of them big ole honkers. (Geeesh, double AND triple Ds on a sized 2, makes these girls look like they charge by the hour, or is that what they want?) "Hi y'all, I'm Bonnie. Welcome everybody to our Valentine's Day Karaoke Night!"
From out of the crowd, "PUT THE FUCKIN' GAME BACK ON!!!" (Like da license plates state: Louisiana: Da Sportsman's State!)
She continued, "The game wasn't supposed to be on at all tonight. Her eyes shot daggers at Danny. They play a thousand games a year--and I get Karaoke Night ONLY once a week, BESIDES, it's Valentine's Day." (Fuck it, I guess I'll just have to watch SportsCenter, later.)
The grumbling continued, amid a small bit of applause for Karaoke Night.
"Danny, they're all out there, put the game on this TV, you don't even have to put the sound on."
"Wayne, she's the new bar manager, and she told me that she should fire me for putting it on at all. If I turn it back on, she's GONNA fire me."
"Dat fuckin' bitch!"
"Man you don't know the half of it. She's destroying this place. I just hope Mike sees it before she ruins his business totally."
"Damn... Danny, I didn't realize Mike was so pussy-whipped. Bitch must give some hellacious head, huh?"
We both laughed, then he looked around to make sure no one was listening, "I don't think she gives head at all. At least to hear Mike complain about needing a BJ."
I picked up my shot of rum, saluted Danny, and downed it, chased by a long pull on my TurboDawg, "Well, I guess I oughta hit da road then--this is even worse than being home alone for Valentine's Day."
"Sure you don't wanna stay for da show?"
"Nah, I'll pass, Charlie's waiting for me..." and turned to leave.
Over the house speakers, "And our first songstress tonight, Alexis...." There was a smattering of applause.
It was the cute lil blonde from the other end of the bar. I just realized the bar had been hiding the most awesome pair of legs I have ever seen in person. (They weren't as long as Stacy Keibler's--but dammmmm, whose are?) They merged into a gorgeous ass--all barely hidden by a short, tight dress that Tina Turner would have been shy about wearing on stage. It was white spandex, with lil pink and red hearts all over it. (I guess it was for her sweetheart on Valentine's Day, but I'd call it a heartbreaker dress--because I know she just broke mine.)
"Ya know Danny, I guess it wouldn't kill me to have another drink."
He put another double Black Seal and TurboDawg down, "Compliments of da bitch." We both laughed.
The 4 morons were seated in the front, and their leader boomed out, "With itty-bitty-titties like hers, shouldn't she be called Alex?"
There was a quick cackle from Bonnie and a few of the cattier women, while the 4 morons guffawed like they were a real hoot.
Alexis ignored them and was leaning over the DJ's stand getting her song straight--while straightening every guy in the place as her skirt crept higher and higher. It was at the bands of her white thigh-highs when she realized it and started tugging her dress back down. (Man, I'd love to get up close and personal to find out how she kept those seams so perfectly straight through it all.)
Danny elbowed me, "I bet you wished that you'd have talked to her earlier now, huh?"
"I didn't come here to hit on anyone. Man, I just wanted to watch da goddamn game. Besides, I bet you had to have 3 forms of ID when you carded her."
"Nah, just one... She's over 21..."
"And I'm over twice her age..."
"So?"
"Soooooo, girls like that don't give the time of day to 40 year old writers... Especially not old, out of shape writers without a lot of cash from a best seller."
"Man, she kept trying to talk to you."
"I was watchin' the game."
"I could see that, dumbass." Danny grinned.
"And you know me when I'm into a game--stuff around me is like one of those Charlie Brown cartoons... Like when the teacher speaks, all you hear is WAK... WAK... WAK... SQUAWK... SQUAWK... SQUAWK... WAK... WAK... WAK..."
"Geesh man, no wonder you ain't been laid in forever--ya gotta learn to pay attention to da signs."
"Besides, she was with the 4 morons."
"Nah, they were riding her about her tiny tits, and were trying to get her to show them..."
"Danny, since when do you let morons insult your customers like that?"
"Since they're Bonnie da bitch's friends."
"Ouch!"
"Yeah, OUCH!"