It was the usual Wednesday night shift, calm except for the orders I received here and there, quiet except for the soft humming of the regulars and tranquil except for the sensual Jazz playing in the background. The cold February Chill was kept outside by the heating and the low lighting created the alluring vibe that the bar was known for.
My name is Alex, I'm 22 and I'm studying to get a degree in business. I've been mixing drinks in this bar for a few months now and I've been enjoying every shift of it. It was a downtown bar, in the heart of towering office buildings. Most of the customers were successful careerists hitting the bar to forget about the stress of their jobs.
I shared busy weekends with Jordan, an experienced bartender who helped me learn the skills that the job required, and I worked alone on the quieter nights of Monday and Wednesday. I came to relish the predictability of the place, the way the same faces would come and go, and the fact that I became too familiar with their drinks. The salary was also much higher than what I was getting paid when I worked as a waiter in coffee shops near campus, and the patrons were evidently more generous with their tips.
Beyond taking time to get familiar with the art of Drink mixing, everything else about being a bartender felt natural to me. During my interview for the job, my boss, a man called Eric, said that I had a swagger that he liked. I'm naturally confident with very little cockiness, I'm quite sociable, well spoken and I get called a charmer a lot.
I also know that my looks help me a lot. I'm of Hispanic descent, so I'm blessed with a natural tan, my hair is dark, soft, and rich. My most handsome facial features are probably my eyes, which are hazel, and I have come to learn that they leave quite the impression, especially on the ladies. I'm tall at 5 ft 9, and with an extensive gym routine, I developed a strong build that was not overly muscular.
On this Particular Wednesday night, I was behind the counter cleaning a set of glasses when the door swung open, a gust of cold air sneaked in first, followed by a group of middle-aged women, all dressed to kill. First, there was the group's leader, Rachel, a corporate lawyer with a penchant for dry martinis. Next to her was Tina, a doctor with the most beautiful of smiles. Then there was the ever-so-elegant Linda, a journalist who loved to drink gin and narrate the most outrageous of stories.
As gorgeous as these women were, however, my eyes were focused, as they always did, on their friend the realtor, Trudy. To my eyes, she was the ultimate mature beauty. Her brunette hair was a wild web of curls that cascaded over her shoulders. Her round face speaks of a life well lived. Her eyes were deep brown, and the wrinkles that fanned out of them only added to her allure.
The brown leather jacket she was wearing was open, revealing what I assumed, due to how tight it looked, to be a bodysuit. It was brown and it clung to her like a second skin. The bodysuit's turtleneck might have done its job of hiding her chest, but it did nothing to hide its grandeur. They looked massive, and I often wondered about how it would feel to bury my face in them. The fabric stretched taut over her, showcasing that her belly was not flat nor toned but was of a softer tone. It was of a woman who felt comfortable in her own skin to flaunt her body with confidence.
Her hips could turn faces even if she hid them under the most modest of skirts. That night, however, they were on full display, accentuated by a pair of skin-tight jeans that she somehow squeezed herself into. The jeans hugged her fairly narrow waist down to the widest parts of her hips. The fabric stretched over her rounded butt exhibiting the rare mix of firmness and softness that had my fingers itch to reach out and squeeze. Her thighs were thick and strong, and as she walked further, I took notice of the boots that the denim was tucked into. They were knee-high, made of the finest brown leather, and their heels made her already impressive height even more daunting.
The women claimed their usual spot in the corner booth, a place where they could see and be seen, but it also offered them a level of privacy. I developed a closer relationship with the ladies over the months. They hit the bar every odd weekend, and they were a fun bunch to be around. They loved to banter, to tease, and to flirt, and I interacted with their playful conversations. They were all married with kids except for Trudy. She had two teenage girls but has been single since her divorce from their father a couple of years prior.
Trudy and I had chemistry from the very first time we met. Ever since, I might've glanced at her body more than I should at times, she might've touched my biceps a bit longer than she should on a few occasions, and our eyes certainly met way too much throughout the night whenever she was around. Her friends teased us about it, but things, as electric as they were at times, never moved beyond the fun banter.
I always kept things professional, I respected Trudy and her friends, and I knew my limits. I enjoyed the banter, and as much as I fantasized about pushing my luck further, I didn't want to ruin what we already had or make the situation uncomfortable.
I wiped my hands on the apron I had on and put on my charming smile as I approached the ladies.
" Ladies, what a pleasant surprise. To what do I owe the honor of your midweek company?" I asked them. It was the very first time that they paid the bar a visit during the week since I started my job.
My answer came from Rachel, the leader of the pack. "It's Trudy's birthday, darling. The big four-oh!".
I was genuinely surprised as I shifted my gaze to Trudy, who seemed to beam with attention.
" Trudy, I had no idea. Happy Birthday ". I offered.
Trudy leaned forward, her ample breasts threatening to rip the fabric of her top, and winked
. " Thank you, Alex. I'm feeling rather... festive tonight," she purred.
I knew the routine, knew how to play along, so I flashed a grin, saying.
" In that case, I'll make sure to keep the drinks coming stronger than ever. "
I took their orders. A dry martini with three olives for Rachel. A whiskey neat for Tina and a gin fizz with a twist of lime for Linda. Trudy, feeling playful and festive, had an unusual order this time, " A sex on the Beach, " she requested with a wink that had my heart racing. I collected myself and headed back to my counter to prepare the drinks.
A few minutes later, I was serving their drinks when Rachel teased me with a comment about how strong my forearms looked as I had my shirt rolled up to the elbows. Linda slapped her arms, saying that I was already blushing. I laughed it off, hoping that my cheeks weren't actually coloring, and kept my eyes on Trudy, who watched back with a smoldering gaze.
Throughout the evening, as I met the needs of the diverse clientele, I couldn't help but feel a pull towards where the group of women sat. Their laughter was loud and alluring, and every time I glanced over, Trudy's gaze was upon me. The friends whispered among themselves while casting knowing looks in my direction.
Later into the night, Rachel approached the counter while I was behind it. I braced myself for whatever she was coming with as I watched her hips swaying.
" Hey, handsome. How about another round for the birthday girl?"
" Coming right up " was my response as I went on with my task.
I kept feeling her gaze studying me as she started to speak up again.
" So Alex, you thought about getting Trudy something special for her birthday? ".
The question was laden with suggestions, and Rachel was certainly enjoying the sudden tension coiling around me.
" Just the usual. Rachel. Best service and the strongest drinks I can make." I said, meeting her eyes.
My response was clearly not convincing. The blonde leaned closer, and I felt her breath around my ear.
" Well, darling, we all know you're the best in the city, but tonight, Trudy has something else in mind," she said before taking a moment to continue. " But she's a bit shy, you know. She needs a little push."
