My wife and I were unemployed, both having been made redundant, me after 4 months, she just before they needed to pay redundancy. Neither of us had transferable skills, as a salesman I had sold but it is difficult to find that kind of employment in your mid-40s, when there are so many youngsters after that position. We both hustled for part -time job that paid the rent and ran the old crate of a motor bike that we had.
Some weeks ago, we saw an article in local paper advertising an open day for the people who had little experience and had yen to a pub manager. We went, we were accepted, we underwent the training and finally we were offered an extremely run down pub in Busia area. The promise was that it was to be refurbished into "Tap House"; a chain of white people's pubs and we would be the first to be considered to copycat there pub.
In the interim we ran the pub on our own with very few staff and only afternoons off. Our customers. Our customers were a very rough bunch, but that was the only source of revenue, the state of the pub being nowhere good enough to encourage new visitors. The refurb was supposed to happen within 6 months but wrangles over who owned the freehold made it drag on for 3 times that. In the meantime we drew staff from a very small population.
One such was Ivy. Ivy was about 5" 4" tall, overweight and honestly not the prettiest female you ever saw. She was 35 and a grandmother although she hardly ever saw her daughter or granddaughter. We took her on to do few hours each week even though we knew she was drawing benefits, but that was her concern, not ours. Most men will say they do not understand women, but I bet most will understand the meaning of looks and glances from a member of the opposite sex. In my situation I was very careful, the bar area was small and even casual touches can be misunderstood. I always took great pains to ensure I passed our female staff giving them the widest possible berth.
Ivy never made that possible. She was a big girl and, unlike the other girls would not pull herself in to give me room to avoid touching. Then, on one occasion when there were few customers, her hand brushed my rear as I passed. I thought nothing of it until I looked back and saw her grinning then compose her face and serve the guy who came to the bar.
Did I imagine it? No, the smile she gave said that it was meant. But she may have been testing me and if I reciprocated it could be misinterpreted? Or she could simple have complained to the wife. No, did not want to go down that road.
Then she did it again. No mistaking this time. I finished the chores I was doing and went and stood beside her at the bar. The wife was away for the afternoon visiting her daughter and new grandson so there was just the two of us behind the bar. Not enough for two to do really but I was just filling in time until we closed for the afternoon. I have absolutely no recollection of the conversation we had. Not even small talk, just inane chatter. What I did do, making sure that the few customers we did have were otherwise occupied was to reach down with my left hand and firmly squeeze her right buttock enough so that it was completely unambiguous. There was no reaction, she just carried on chatting. Then as she reached down to put a clean glass on the shelf she, in turn, squeezed my left buttock.
"When we close at 2, do you want to stay behind for a drink?" I asked her.
"OK", was the only reply and I slipped upstairs to make a cup of tea. I drank the tea, tried to read but most of the time watching the clock tick round to 2 pm. I heard Ivy ring the 10 minute bell and went down to join her. Our lunchtime trade was starting to improve but it was months before it became substantial. On this occasion the bell was pointless as there was no-one in the bar.
Ivy went the other side of the bar to collect glasses, wipe tables and sweep the floor. I asked her to close the door whilst I bent to the task of cleaning the few remaining glasses. We did not warrant an automatic glass washer so made do with a brush scrubber unit mounted over the sink. When all was tidy and the till drawer stashed in the safe I pulled a glass of lager for Julie and a half of bitter for me. Then went and joined her on the other side of the bar where she was smoking a cigarette and sipping at her beer.
I asked her if she wanted to come upstairs. She refused. This quite surprised me. Well, more than that as my cock had already started to harden and I was already extremely randy. We chatted from 2:30 till nearly 5 pm with me thinking I was going to wear her down. After an hour I knew that this was not going to happen and just accepted that nothing was going to happen that afternoon. The gist was that she did not jump into bed at the first opportunity. I found this quite strange as had thought she was highly promiscuous, but in talking to her I realized she had had sex with very few guys and was still moderately shy.
In short as she said "I want to be sure you're not just going to take advantage of me and then boast about it." This in itself was quite strange, here am I contemplating an affair with one of my barmaids and she thinks I'd mention it to anyone. That would have been marital suicide. She left just after 4 and I went upstairs for a quick bite to eat ready to open for "Happy Hour" at 5.
It was 2 weeks to the next time I was in the pub on my own as we took it in turns to go back to our house. The next week I was there mowing the grass and making the garden a little more tidy. In the meantime Ivy kept me at arm's length; I had not even kissed her yet. However the odd stroke of hand and bum did happen.
"Do you want to join me for the afternoon this Thursday?" I asked.
"You sure?" she countered.
"Of course"
"OK. I'm not on this Thursday, so when do I come?"
