During happy hour at Nick's Nook, drinks were 2 for 1 every night from 4 to 7. On one particular Friday night, Richie Jensen got more than a little buzz when he stopped by the place after work.
...
Chapter One: Spotting a cougar.
I had arrived a little bit later than usual at Nick's Nook on that Friday night. The regulars had all departed and the place was in its transitional mode around that time, evolving from sort of a working man's bar to a nightspot for the hip and those trying to be.
The bartenders were also changing as happy hour wound down. I liked Ginny, the cute, chubby happy hour barkeep, but wasn't too fond of Tommy, who replaced her at seven, so I figured I would just pound down a couple of quick ones and head home for an evening with Vince McMahon or watching a couple of Neanderthals slug it out on the Testosterone Channel.
Scanning around the long horseshoe-shaped bar, there were only a middle aged guy sitting at the far end and a woman about that man's age sitting down near the taps. Since I usually sat down near the beer anyway to make it easier for Ginny, I went in that direction, sitting down just a few seats away from the woman just in time for Ginny to slide a frosty cold mug of Sam Adams in front of me.
After admonishing me for being late and lamenting the lack of business, Ginny went off to tend to the guy at the other end of the bar. Glancing over at the woman, I watched her nervously look away as our eyes met. It was clear that she had been checking me out, and while I didn't look my best after just doing electrical work for 9 hours, it was clear that she didn't mind my scruffy appearance because her eyes came back up to meet mine while smiling and nodding.
She was probably in her mid forties, which made her about twice my age. She had short blonde hair that was swept back a little and had pleasant enough features. A full figured gal, I noticed, because although what she was wearing wasn't very erotic, there was no denying the presence of a pair of tits that stuck out like torpedoes in the purple and black sweater they were encased in.
She got up and went around the corner to the bathroom, allowing me to get a good view of a nice round ass that looked pretty firm. She was a little thick but not fat, and while she was not a spectacular looking woman, her body bordered on voluptuous.
"Cougar hunting, Richie?" Ginny asked with a grin as she reappeared and caught me checking out my fellow bar patron.
"You know me too well," I told her, draining the beer so I could squeeze in a couple more before happy hour ended and Tommy took over.
"She's been here for about an hour," Ginny informed me. "Jeff hit on her but struck out."
"What's new?"
"I think that she's with that guy down at the other end," Ginny mused.
"Not exactly rubbing butt cheeks, are they? They couldn't sit any further away if they tried. What gives you that impression?"
"Just a feeling," Ginny opined. "Never saw either of them before, and they seem to be making eye contact a lot."
"Maybe he wants to make a run at her," I suggested.
"I don't think so," Ginny said before moving to take care of a new arrival. "Just a feeling I have that something up."
Having gotten to know Ginny well over the years, I knew that her instincts were usually spot on, so I tried to keep my eye out for what she had seen while the bar began to fill up a little.
The woman returned, and as she sat down I smiled at her and went behind the partition to the hallway where the rest rooms were located. Taking a spot at the end of the long trough and letting loose with a torrent of used beer, I hardly noticed that I had company until I was nearly through.
It was the guy who was down at the end of the bar, and although he averted his eyes there was no doubt as to what he was looking for. A pecker checker, no doubt. I gave mine a wiggle before putting it away and gave him a dirty look before heading to the sink and then back out into the bar.
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Chapter Two: More beer.
When I went back to my seat at the bar, I noticed a couple of things right away. The blonde woman who was three seats away from me when I had left, was now two seats away. The second thing was that there was another mug of Sam Adams in front of me, along with a little cup that indicated I had another one coming to me.
"That's from this lady,' Ginny indicated with a nod. "Joan, I believe."
I looked over at the woman, who was smiling at me nervously, and when I nodded and smiled back at her she seemed to relax a little.
"Hope you were planning to have another," the woman said in an accent that sounded vaguely New England. "I would have waited for you to return to ask you if you did, but if I did that I would have run the risk of being refused."
"Refuse a beer?" I chuckled. "Not likely - Joan was it?"
She nodded, smiling and exposing a set of teeth that looked flawless.
"Well, thank you Joan," I said. "My name's Richie."
I stuck out my beefy paw and took her pale white hand in mine, making it disappear for a moment. I saw and felt the rather large diamond in her wedding ring when our hands clasped, and noticed her looking at my arms in the tight black t-shirt I was wearing.
My arms get a lot of attention, probably due to the amount of physical work I do, and while a lot of women these days don't seem to care for the hair that covers them, most seem to like the shoulders and the biceps which are pretty well developed.
"Would you mind if I slid over?" I asked. "It's getting a little crowded in here."
"Please do," Joan said.
"Wouldn't want anybody sliding in and ruining the view for me," I added, making an obvious glance at her breasts, a look that she didn't miss any more than I had missed the look she had given me.
"I don't know anybody here," Joan said. "I feel safer now. A couple of guys hit on me before."
"Does that bother you?"
"Depends on the guy," Joan said, swiveling her stool so that her leg bumped up against mine.
"What if somebody - like me for instance - said something like you look really good to me?" I thought out loud. "What would you say about that?"
"I guess that first I would ask you if you got off on fucking women old enough to be your mother," Joan said, the four-letter word flowing off of her tongue without flinching.
"And what if I told you that I've been called a motherfucker many times in the past?" I joked. "Then I would tell you that I don't give a damn about the mileage as long as the body's good and the motor still runs, and besides that you look to be in mint condition."
"Flatterer," Joan said with a wink, adding, "Now I wish I had worn something a little more interesting."
"When you're built like you are, you don't need to do that sort of thing," I said.
"I'm married, you know."
"So I noticed," I said, nodding toward the impressive wedding ring which sparkled under the neon lights of the beer sign behind the bar.
"Does that bother you?" Joan asked coyly.
"Why should it?" I asked. "I'm not the one that's married."
"You've got a point there." Joan admitted with a chuckle, rocking in her chair so that her legs brushed up against mine some more.
"I'm going to go the men's room one last time," I said after draining the last of my beer. "If you're still out here when I get back, maybe you would like to go have some fun with me."
"If I'm still here," Joan said. "Maybe we will."
I slid off of the stool and walked behind Joan, letting my hand slide along her shoulders as I moved toward the bathroom. As I looked back at her for her reaction, I saw that the little weasel that had been at the end of the bar, and who had followed me into the bathroom before, was hot on my trail once more.
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Chapter Three: Confrontation.
After I slipped into the bathroom, I ducked behind the door as it closed. When it opened again, the guy entered, and I slammed the door shut behind him, startling him as I slid the latch over and moved him against the wall.
"Come in for another peek?" I asked, wanting to poke the guy just on general principals.
"No sir," the guy said quietly, holding his hand up as if to fend me off. "I wanted to talk."
The guy reminded me of Peter Lorre in Casablanca, with black slicked back hair and dressed in clothes that were casual but expensive. Couldn't be much more than 5'6" and 130 pounds, and I figured that I could snap him like a twig in a matter of seconds, but all I wanted to do was take a piss without somebody looking at me doing it.
"We don't have anything to talk about, and I don't like to talk in bathrooms all that much."
"Perhaps we could step outside then?"
"I've got to piss."
"I'll wait for you out in the hall," he said, leaving me to my business.
While I relieved myself, I tried to figure out what this guy was up to. I didn't like him, but then again I didn't like a lot of people. After washing my hands and fixing my hair, I went out to see Peter Lorre again.
He was standing at the end of the hall, near the seldom used rear entrance of the bar. As I approached him, he stepped outside, holding the door open for me before lighting a cigarette.
"Make it fast, pal," I told him. "There's somebody waiting for me in there."
"That's the subject of our conversation," he said calmly. "The woman. You seem to have taken a fancy to her."
"You seem to enjoy keeping an eye on me for some reason," I mentioned.
"She's quite a bit older than you," I offered. "She's more my age than yours."
"Well, if you were interested in her, you should have done something about it yourself."
"Oh, I am interested in her," he said. "Very interested."
"So?"
