(All persons engaged in sexual activity in this story are over 18 years old and any similarities between this story and real life are purely coincidental)
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With all the packing, cleaning, and unpacking, moving has to be one of life's biggest nightmares. However, as a 45 year old, recently divorced man trying to start over, moving meant I was taking a position with my company in sunny San Diego and leaving my crazy ex-wife well in my past. Fortunately, our marriage never included children, so the divorce meant I had no more ties to Suzette nor the dreary suburb of Seattle we called home for the past 10 years.
Settling in a waterfront condominium on Coronado Island, with a view looking back at the downtown waterfront, I was greeted with 75 degree weather, skies painted a perfect blue, and women out and about in droves; wearing outfits that highlighted all their best features. Getting unpacked, the final painful step in putting down new roots, was unusually satisfying given my new outlook on life.
Work started just a few days after I moved in and kept me busy learning the ropes of running the San Diego office for a major public relations firm. My team was welcoming and, thanks to considerable success in the Seattle office, I arrived with my reputation as a well-liked VP leading the way. The first week, my team made sure I not only got up to speed on the work they were doing, but they also made sure I visited all the top restaurants in Little Italy, the Gaslamp area, and greater downtown.
One of my priorities after settling into life on Coronado, was to find another Mickey's. Mickey's was my neighborhood restaurant and bar in Seattle. A "third place" in my life; a Cheers-like establishment where "everybody knew my name." Mickey's was the thing I missed most about Seattle, but I was hopeful there was a similar place to settle down here on Coronado Island. My second priority was to begin to explore the dating scene in San Diego. My early indications were that I would have plenty of women nearby to meet; I hoped I could find a new woman who understood me and wanted to enjoy life.
On an after dinner walk one evening, I stumbled upon a little bar and restaurant that, from the sign out front, offered "The Island's Best Happy Hour and Best Relaxing Vibe" according to some survey in the local newspaper. The name, Enoteca Mare, told me from my limited Italian, that it was a seafood-focused wine bar. I had already eaten dinner, but figured I'd pop in for a glass of wine.
Inside was a beautiful little, elegantly casual restaurant with a curved bar near the front windows that offered about 20 seats. There were about 10 or 12 people at the bar, mostly at one end, and the restaurant was well-seated for as late as it was. Despite being stuffed from dinner, the smell of the food made my mouth water. I pulled out a bar stool at the empty end of the bar and sat down to see if I had discovered my new Mickey's.
The bartender, a guy about my age, came right down to greet me, "Hey there. What's your pleasure on this fine evening?"
"May I see your wine list," I asked?
"You bet. If you see something you like that isn't listed by-the-glass, just let me know and I'd be happy to open a bottle if you plan on having two glasses."
"Wow. Thanks. That is very generous."
"Anything to make you comfortable. I'm Chuck," he said sticking out his hand.
"Nice to meet you, Chuck. I'm John."
I ordered a glass of Italian white wine at Chuck's recommendation and settled in. Sipping my wine, glancing at my phone and the TV on the wall (showing a local sports station) my early feelings were good. People chatted with each other and it provided a nice, lively buzz to the place. After a bit, Chuck returned and checked in with me, "Is the wine to your liking? Would you like to see a menu?"
"The wine is perfect. Great suggestion. I already ate, but it smells great. I'll come back for dinner at another time."
"Sounds good. Are you in town for pleasure? Business?"
"Actually, I just relocated here from Seattle. I live just a few blocks away."
"Well, an even bigger welcome then. And the first one's on me," Chuck offered. "We are kind of a local's place, so I hope you find yourself feeling at home."
"That's great to hear. I was lucky to have a great little bar near my house in Seattle and I am looking for a place here."
Chuck glanced down the bar and spoke in a stronger voice, "Dan. Barb. Jeff. Come here. Meet John." Getting their attention quickly, and with a wave of his hand, one of the guys at the other end of the bar got up and came my way with the gal and another guy following.
The small group came down and one-by-one they introduced themselves. Dan and Barb were married and Jeff seemed to be the guy who would summons a laugh whenever needed, "If you're looking for a place to hang out and get abused by the bartender, you found the right place," his joke aimed at Chuck.
"Shut the hell up Jeff," Chuck retorted, "You get abused because you ask for it; especially when you cheat like Trump at golf."
"Come sit with us, John," Dan offered.
"Thank you. I will."
It didn't take long to learn that Dan and Barb were married and Jeff was an old college buddy of Dan's and they had recently reconnected. Jeff was a retired airline captain and Dan and Barb owned a local insurance office. Golf was a major connection for all of us and they promised to get me out to some of the private courses they had access to. My future at "EM's" (the nickname they had for Enoteca Mare), was looking very bright. I finished up a couple glasses of wine and promised to come back in a few days and meet more of the locals that haunted the place.
On my way home, I reflected on the night and what a great find I had made. As an avid golfer, it was clear I was going to love the crowd at EM's and they also seemed to have the laid back, sarcastic, sense of humor, I was blessed with. I also couldn't avoid the observation, that I tried to put aside while standing there, that Barb was a good deal younger than Dan and was hot as fuck!
With Dan in his early 50's, Barb must have been about 35. She had shoulder length, blonde hair, a sassy, cute face, and large, firm (no doubt fake) tits and a round ass that begged to be grabbed while she was fucked hard. She wore tight jeans, a strapless top, and sporty, western boots pulled over the cuffs of her jeans. She was witty, flirtatious, and just an all-round babe.
A few days later, I returned to EM's and, much to my delight, Barb was there with 3 or 4 other women and she introduced me around. They seemed to be having a "girl's night out", so I settled at the end other end of the bar and struck up a conversation with two more locals; Ben and Chris, both retired Naval officers, who were just as welcoming as everyone else. There was no doubt I had found "home."
Chuck poured me what was already deemed my "usual" and went back to busily filling drink orders for the wait staff working the restaurant floor. Ben and Chris had already cashed out, said they hoped to see me again really soon, and headed out leaving me just to people watch and relax. The people watching was especially fun with Barb, well-served by now and carrying on with her friends, looking as good as ever.
As much as Barb was ridiculously hot to look at, one of her friends, Gina, held the honored position of "babe amongst babes". I have a thing for smaller, flat-chested women and Gina was the perfect example. She looked like she was only about 25, long blonde hair in a ponytail, well-tanned legs that were barely covered by a short skirt, and a flat chest that she did not try to hide in the very tight, spaghetti-strap tank top she was wearing; her nipples poking through for everyone to see. Chuck came down to give me a refill and caught me undressing them, "One of the greatest benefits of the job."
"No shit. Wow. Definitely a good reason to work here."
"An even better reason to own a place like this," Chuck laughed.
"You the owner," I asked?
"Yes I am. 15 years. I'm fortunate, the people out here really make me successful."
"Congrats. This place is amazing. And, I showed up hungry tonight. What do you recommend?"
Chuck set me up with a seafood pasta dish that was out of this world; just like I had experienced in the small fishing villages I had visited the year before in Northern Italy. I finished my dinner, more wine, cashed out, and headed out the door. "Hey John," I heard Barb yell!
"Hey Barb!"
"Hope to see you again soon. Join us next time."
"Thank you. You can count on it," I said as I left. On my walk home, my perverted thoughts lit up, "Join you? How about we all just have a big fucking orgy with Gina front and center?"
For the next few days, I was out of town on a business trip in Northern California. When I returned, I gathered my uncollected mail and couldn't wait to get over to EM's and grab some dinner and wine. I threw on some jeans and a casual sweater and covered the blocks between my condo and EM's quickly.
Chuck met me outside as he was saying goodbye to some diners, "Hey John. Where have you been?"
