Hello and welcome to my readers. There'll be no tricks this Halloween, only this little treat for you. I appreciate your votes, comments and feedback. Enjoy.
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"Dub, how's it goin' buddy? When did you get back in town?"
Dub Stockwell grinned as Jimmy the bartender greeted him heartily. Dub always headed straight for the hotel's lounge after he checked in. As he mixed Dub his favorite drink, Jimmy asked, "How's the wife and kids?"
"They're fine, they're not here and I'm glad of it," Dub replied with a grin. He swallowed his drink in one gulp, "You make a hell of an Old Fashioned, Jimmy. Hit me again."
Jimmy Perkins was one of the best bartenders in town and he was one reason Dub always stayed at the aging Brandywine Hotel when he traveled this way. Durward Stockwell hated his first name, so he asked everyone he met to call him Dub and most people did what he asked. Dub cut an imposing figure, taller than average and broad in the shoulders and chest; he could be intimidating if the mood struck him.
Dub was a regional sales representative for Millipede Tractor Company. His territory covered four states, so he wasn't home for weeks at a time and that was fine with him. His wife was a fat, nagging bitch and his kids were whiny, spoiled brats to hear Dub tell it. He was happiest out on the road where he could do what he pleased after work. That included a determined search for female companionship. His rugged good looks, smooth delivery and generous expense account virtually guaranteed that he rarely slept alone.
"Kinda quiet for a Thursday night ain't it, Jimmy?" Dub remarked, looking at the empty tables and stools while sipping his drink. "I mean, where's everybody, where's all the broads?"
"A couple new clubs opened up since the last time you came through," Jimmy replied, shaking his head. "Business is off lately; everyone's goin' there for booze and dancin'. I had to let Phil go last week and he went to work for one of 'em. Times are changin' Dub, I'm telling ya..."
The men ceased their conversation as a slender young woman opened the glass doors and walked in the lounge. Looking around nervously, she sat at a table and began rummaging in her purse. Finding what she was looking for, she motioned to Jimmy for some service. As Jimmy took her order, Dub looked at the pretty girl.
She appeared to be in her early twenties, with a sweet face and long brown hair. Her slim figure with small breasts, narrow hips and shapely legs was enough to attract Dub's interest. Hell, she was female that was enough.
When the bartender returned from the table, Dub asked, "What's she drinkin', Jimmy?"
"Wouldja believe a Boxcar," Jimmy said with a chuckle. "I'm gonna get out the bartenders guide. I forgot how to make one of those, it's been so long."
"Put it on my tab, Jimmy," said Dub. "I'm gonna chat her up a bit, see what she's like."
Jimmy grinned to himself as he thumbed through the dog-eared pages of 'The Ultimate Guide to Mixology'. Old Dub was one smooth pussy hound. That little filly didn't stand a chance.
"Good evening, miss," said Dub, suavely. "Are you waiting for someone or can I buy you a drink?"