This is a work of fiction. Any similarities to actual events and persons living or dead is purely coincidental. The author does not condone violence against women. This story is for entertainment purposes only. It is meant for mature audiences over the age of eighteen years. All characters depicted are over the age of eighteen unless otherwise stated. I want to extend my sincere thanks to the man I chatted with here on Literotica who inspired this story!
ABOUT THE STORY
When Amira is approached by Byron Reynolds, a career criminal, she refuses to give him a portion of her business. She soon finds out that saying no to one thing means saying yes to much, much more!
"Two more tequilas Boss Lady!" Cricket slid her empty tray across the bar to me.
"You don't have to call me that," I said with a smile. "You can call me by my first name."
She shook her head. Her long dark curls flapped against her back.
"You're so modest, Boss Lady. You built this place from nothing. You could be sitting back and chilling, yet you're always helping us."
"It's my business. Besides, I don't do well sitting on my butt. I get antsy. My father always said that you get out of a business what you put into it."
I quickly mixed the drinks and put them on her tray.
"Oooh, don't look now, Boss Lady," Cricket leaned in close so that I could hear her over the thumping music, "but we have company."
I looked over towards the door. Byron Reynolds was coming through the door. To my amazement he was alone. Usually he had an entourage with him. As usual, he as dressed in a suit that would set most working class folks back six months salary, a silk shirt and shoes so shiny they caught the colored lights of the dance floor. He carefully removed his shades as he walked. As usual, the patrons parted to let him pass. A few girls tried to get his attention.
"Is he on the VIP list tonight?" I asked Cricket.
"No. I checked when I first came in. He's coming this way! Let me know if you need me!"
"Thanks."
She grabbed her tray and went to the table she was serving. Byron made his way to the bar and slid onto a stool.
"Good evening. How can I help you?"
He leaned on his elbow and looked at me. I had to admit, he was a handsome man, and I'm usually not into white men. His straight dark hair was a contrast to his pale skin. He had a fine dark mustache and a thin beard surrounding the edges of his face. He also had eyes so dark they were almost black.
"How much?" he asked me.
"Excuse me?"
"I said, how much?" He covered my wrist with his hand. I snatched it away.
"I am not that kind of girl!"
He chuckled.
"You misunderstand me my dear. I meant, how much for a drink?"
You idiot, I scold myself.
"Oh," I struggled to find my words. "N...name your poison."
"What is your best selling top shelf liquor?"
"That would be Don Julio 1942."
"That will be fine. Very neat with lime." He passed a couple of bills toward me. I looked. They were both hundreds!
"Let me get that started for you. Please forgive my mistake a moment ago."
I made the drink and brought it to him. He picked up the glass and took a sip.
"Very nice. My compliments to the owner. He keeps a fine stock."
"I will tell her that you said so, Sir."
"You mean this fine establishment is owned by a woman?"
"Yes, Sir."
He took another sip of his drink.
"I would like to speak with her about a business proposition."
"I am sure that she won't be interested, Mr. Reynolds."
"How do you know this, my dear?"
"Because I am the owner, and I know who you are and what kind of man you are. I'll let you drink here because I am a businesswoman and you haven't caused me any trouble, but it goes no further than that! You aren't exploiting me!"
"My dear Amira, you do realize that you are the last hold out?"
I stumbled backwards.
"H...h...how did you know my name?"
He leaned back with his drink.
"You'd be amazed at what I know and can find out. So, since you are a businesswoman, I will be fair. I will offer you sixty-forty, your favor."
"No."
"You drive a hard bargain, my beautiful one. Seventy-thirty."
"No!"
"Eighty-twenty, my final offer."
"What part of no don't you understand Mr. Reynolds, the N or the O?"
He tossed his head back and laughed.
"I see you are a proud woman, but not a very smart one."
"What is that supposed to mean?"
Suddenly I heard a crash. I looked up, and I saw broken glass at one of the tables and two men arguing.
"You see Amira, one of those men are with me, one of my bodyguards, Fernando. Since you refused my offer to be invested in your business, he is going to start a little trouble."
"What? No! You can't do this! Call them off!" I started to lift the door to exit the bar, but when I did, a huge man in a suit grabbed me.
"What the hell? Let me go!"
"Relax," he said in a deep commanding tone. I looked up and saw a human tree. The man had to be damn near seven feet tall, with arms the size of one of my thighs and solid as thousand year old boulders. His chest felt like a metal plate. His skin was dark and smooth like bitter chocolate. His bald head shone in the light.
"Let me go! You can't do this!"
I twisted in his arms, but he had an iron clad grip on me. I weighed maybe a hundred and thirty soaking wet. There was no way in hell I was escaping this great ape! I watched helplessly as Fernando punched the other man, who reeled backwards. When he regained his composure, he glared at Fernando.
"Mother fucker!" He threw himself into Fernando, and the two of them started going at it. Punches flew, curses were yelled, and then a chair was broken.
"Cricket!" I yelled. "Where's Tony?"
"I don't know, Boss Lady!"
"Call the cops!" I screamed.
Cricket ran over to the bar and picked up the phone.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you, Ramona," Mr. Reynolds used Cricket's real name. She froze while holding the receiver. "You see, since I own the police department, I doubt very much that they will come to your rescue." He placed his finger on the button.
