The Small Bar Ch 2

As I arrived at work, a few minutes late and slipping my tie on as I came through the door, Mike and a few regulars, Joey and Louie, were deep in conversation at the end of the bar.

Joey was an old cab driver who’s been kicked out of most of the local bars, primarily because he’d get tanked up and engage in loud verbal arguments on a variety of subjects, but usually concerning the way liberals were driving the country to hell. He’d managed to offend pretty much everyone at one time or another, even those who might agree with him, and while he expected others to be tolerant of his opinions, he’d become a shouting tyrant at some point in the evening. The most successful ploy in controlling him was to wait until he was at his finest, then make some statement about Nixon being a crook, at which point he’d challenge me to a fight. I’d agree, and we’d step outside, where I’d sidestep his wild first punch (always a right hook, by the way) and he’d sprawl on the ground. I’d then help him up and send him on his way. No harm, no foul, and he’d return the next day with no memory of the events of the night before. He was a regular customer, and Mike needed the business.

Louie, on the other hand, worked for a moving company, packing and hauling people’s belongings across the country, and showing up irregularly for a week or two at a time, only to disappear again, leaving one to wonder if he’d been sick, injured, or simply out of town on a job or a binge. He was classically educated and could carry on conversations about almost any topic, a brilliant man who’d traveled the country and the world, but had found his love for the liquor his only constant.

Louie was always a little rough on arrival, unless he’d stopped somewhere else first, but between about the third and twelfth drinks he was both a great conversationalist and an expert pool player. I know only because I’d seen him once at another bar, won about $100 as his partner from drinks four through eleven, and, with the stakes raised, lost it all during that thirteenth drink. At his best, he could make the cue ball curve completely around the ball in front of it to sink his target ball. At his worst, he played like I usually do. He, too, would become belligerent at some point in the night, though he’d usually just hurl invectives and stomp out at some point.

“I can’t believe she’d do that, and besides,” said Mike, “He’s too young for her by a long shot.” I hated coming into the middle of conversations, especially between these guys, because asking for an explanation usually led to a much longer story than could hold anyone’s interest, which would digress further into arguments about the details and relationships and events, the speakers themselves losing the thread of the original story. So I moved behind the bar and Mike grabbed a stool, and while I took inventory and checked the register, I listened in discreetly.

“I’m telling ya,” bellowed Joey, “She took him in the back and did something to him! She walked back out, it musta been five minutes later, with her wig askew and her lipstick smeared. When he came out, carrying a couple cases of beer, he had a smile on his face, not unlike the grin that Tony came in with.” I was unaware that my presence had been even noticed, much less that my smile had been observed. I’d just been introduced to the pleasures of a woman that afternoon, and had little doubt that Joey had been inaccurate in his description of me, but now they all turned and I blushed.

“What have YOU been up to?” Mike asked, a sly smile on his face. Louie looked at me and laughed.

Joey said “I know a smile like that, boy, you got laid, didn’t you!”

“A gentleman would not talk about such things,” I protested, turning redder still.

“Ah, I KNEW it!” said Joey. “See, I told you something was going on in the back room and that’s the same look Tommy had on his face when he came out.”

Tommy was another regular who served as interim bartender when neither Mike nor I were available. He was a quiet, nice guy with a pleasant manner, not much personality, but from what I was catching of the story, he’d committed a mortal sin in the bartending business. No, not having sex in the back room, but leaving the bar unattended.

“Marsha wouldn’t do such a thing,” proffered Mike, “And Tommy… well, I’ll have to talk to him about it tomorrow.” Mike finished his drink and turned to me. “All in order?” he asked, pointing toward the till.

“Perfect as always, boss,” I said. “Do you think you’ll be in later?” I was hoping that he’d want to close tonight, as I had a promise of dinner and more awaiting me next door to my apartment. On top of that, my legs felt sore and weak from my afternoon’s activities, and I didn’t relish the thought of standing behind the bar all night.

“I dunno, you seem to be doing a pretty good job,” said Mike. “I think I’ll let you close again.” Mike got off his barstool and walked a little unsteadily toward the door. He must have been drinking with Joey and Louie for some time. “Good night and make sure you lock up tight when you leave.”

“We’ll keep an eye on him and get him trained up right,” called Joey as Mike left. Damn. This meant I’d have these guys teasing me and arguing for a couple more hours. All I wanted to do was rush back to those beautiful arms and willing body that had given me so much pleasure. That, it seemed, was on hold, however.

The evening progressed, a few new customers trickling in and out, Joey and Louie arguing as usual, and we kept the banter light-hearted. I was in a generous mood and even bought them a few drinks, and they seemed to appreciate it, leaving together for a place down the street where they could shoot pool and stumble home.

I was alone in the bar when she came in about midnight, and I was shocked to see her.

“Marie!” I said, stunned. When I’d left her that afternoon, she’d been sleepy and disheveled, her gray hair long on her shoulders and her expression content.

Now she was dressed to the nines, a short black dress that seemed to enhance her beauty and accentuate her cleavage. Her hair was up, and her blue eyes were piercing as she smiled at me, posing for a moment and moving her legs in such a way that I could see a bit of thigh and the garter belt which held up her dark nylons.

“I missed you,” she said, smiling. “I was going to relive our afternoon, and I did a bit, but after the real thing it just wasn’t as good,” she said naughtily. My cock was as happy to see her as the rest of me, suddenly tenting my pants as my mouth grew dry.

“I’m glad to see you too!” I said, though I was suddenly nervous. This was just the kind of thing that got one in trouble, what might cost Tommy his job tomorrow, and I needed no gossip or rumors complicating my work and reputation. While there was nobody in the place besides the two of us, anyone could walk in at any time, and anything untoward would be reported to Mike, probably before I could show up for the morning shift. Okay, this job wasn’t a partnership in a law firm but it was the only one I had, and I’d just made it through the necessary initiation by regular customers giving me a hard time, I didn’t need any more trouble.

“Why don’t you come down here and let me make you a drink?” I said, motioning Marie toward the far end of the bar, where we had a hinged section that lifted to allow the bartenders to pass in and out. If she sat there, I alone could steal a look at her legs while I worked, and they were indeed a thing of beauty, especially with those dark nylons.

“How about a kiss to help me decide what else I want to drink?” she said, seductively. This was going to be a long three hours, I thought. She walked to the place I’d suggested, took my hands and leaned across the bar to kiss me. As my mouth met hers she pulled my hands to her breasts and I was about to lose myself in her as I heard the front door open. Startled, I stood up, again blushing, as a few college students, evidently on a “Death March” – a tour of the street from a bit west all the way to the lake – stumbled in, laughing and slurring and calling to their friends outside, began to pile into the bar.

With an authorized (by the fire department) capacity of twenty-five, the Small Bar was pretty quickly filled by the twenty or so students who filed in. “Some pitchers of beer!” they said, and I started filling pitchers and distributing glasses and counting customers, setting the beer on the bar to be passed around. The students were mostly guys, somewhat past sobriety but not quite beyond tolerable limits, some rushing to the bathroom and a couple others looking at our antique jukebox. They plugged in a few quarters and I cranked up the box from behind the bar, Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band filling the air with “Born To Run”. I collected for the beer and returned to Marie, suddenly realizing that I’d not given her a drink.

“I’m sorry, what can I get you?” I asked.

“I was thinking of something milky, what do you recommend?” she teased. My cock leapt again, remembering how her sodden love petals had dripped with my milk just a few hours before. I knew we had some heavy cream in the cooler, and I made her a White Russian. I slipped in a little more vodka and Kahlua than usual, wanting her both relaxed and awake at closing time, when I’d give her a little payback for teasing me so badly while I was busy.

The kids called for another round, and one of the two girls with them called for shots. “I want an Orgasm!” called one, and another “I want Sex on the Beach!” I lined up the shot glasses and tried to buy some time.

“Does anybody know how to make those?” I asked. They looked at each other – they’d evidently had those downtown, but I hadn’t a clue. I paged through the Angostura Bitters drink guide. Nope, neither drink there, but we did have a few liquors on the back bar. They were grumbling and I heard overheard some comment about bad bartenders.

“Tell you what,” I said. “I’ll pour you a shot of a new drink – Tony’s Demise – and if you don’t like it, you don’t have to pay.” The promise of a few drink seemed to assuage their displeasure, and I reached back for some Midori Melon Liquor. Sweet and colorful seemed the thing for most kids, and though I was pretty much the same age, a lot of years of work and a few living on my own had leant some maturity. Since I had the Kaluha out anyway, I poured a bit into each glass, dark and chocolate colored, then added a touch of Midori. Hmmm. It looked like sludge. I poured a little vodka on top of that, creating an oddly layered parfait of alcohol, then put just a drop of the heavy cream on top of that. I’d forgotten that cream seemed to curdle when added to alcohol, but it was an inventive and interesting solution to my dilemma and the students seemed entranced.

“Don’t I get one?” asked Marie.

“Sure, lady, have one with us!” one of the boys said. I poured two more, and so armed, we all toasted and drank in one motion.

“That’s really good!” one of the boys yelled. Marie and I exchanged a glance. I wouldn’t have used the word ‘good’ – it was not unpleasant but I don’t think I’d ever order it on purpose.

“I tell you what, you can have that one on me!” I said. “Just order a ‘Tony’s Demise’ at your next stop, and when they don’t know how to make it, tell everybody where to get one!” Free marketing for the cost of liquors we hardly used.

“We’ve got to get going or we’ll never make it to the lake!” shouted one of the girls, evidently remembering they were on a Death March and had little time to linger.

Had this been some other night, had Marie not been there, I would have encouraged them to stay. The profits from the beers alone were welcome, and as they left, they threw bills on the bar for my tip. I counted them up – almost twenty dollars – twice what I’d make in a usual night. I grabbed the glasses and pitchers I could reach, and stacked them near the sink on Marie’s end of the bar.

“That was nice!” I said.

“You know what would have been nicer?” Marie asked. “If you could have given me an Orgasm. You must know the recipe, because you gave me a couple of very strong ones before.”

Gawd! How that woman could excite me. Her blue eyes met mine and she pursed her lips slightly. I glanced up at the clock – 1:30 AM bar time. If it stayed this quiet I could close up early. I leaned across the bar and kissed her again, and jumped a bit as I felt her arm reach beneath the hinged section and grasp my cock through my pants.

I was working, this was dangerous, but oh it felt so good. I braced myself on the bar and continued to kiss her while she grasped and stroked me. I could feel myself filling and aching for release when the front door opened again.

“Um, is this the place where you make the ‘Tony’s Demise’?” a small voice with a British accent asked. We both turned to see the small man shuffle in. I straightened and walked toward him.

“Sure is,” I said, though I was tempted to send him up the street. “How can I help you?”

“Well, allow me to introduce myself. I’m Chester Farnsworth from the Angostura Bitters Company,” he said, holding out his hand, “We’re putting together a new recipe book. I just ran into some college students who said you had a winner here!” He smiled as I shook his hand.

“Just call me Tony,” I said. He held out a leather folder, opening it to a letter of introduction. Under a multi-colored embossed seal and the Angostura Bitters letterhead, it read, in part:

To Whom It May Concern:

The Bearer of this Letter has the authority to enter into binding agreement with such persons or parties as he deems appropriate for the establishment of contract and transfer of ownership of such intellectual property….

It went on and on but seemed to be a legitimate letter, referencing Her Majesty the Queen and containing all sorts of legalese. I showed the letter to Marie, who reread it more intensely while I spoke with the stranger.

“Excuse me, sir, but why would an international company be sending someone out to a college campus in the US this late at night?” I was trying to be polite, but something just didn’t add up.

“Oh, you must realize, Mr. Tony, if people knew we were coming, or if we didn’t make surprise surveys in the heart of the colonies, we’d never find what people were really drinking!” he exclaimed. “What better place than small college bars? I really wouldn’t even have come in here if I hadn’t heard about you up the lane a pace.”

Still dubious, I asked, “Well, what now?”

“Well,” he said, “If it isn’t too much trouble, I’d like to try this ‘Tony’s Demise’ that I’ve heard so much about.”

I racked my brain briefly, trying to remember the ingredients. “I’ll tell you what,” I said, “If this is a story to get a free drink, you’ve more than earned it.” I set the shot glass on the bar. Suddenly I had a brainstorm.

“I begin with one dash of Angostura Bitters,” I lied. “Then one part Kaluha,” I said, pouring some in the glass. “An equal part Midori Melon Liquor” I added, “then two parts vodka.” “Last, a drop or two of heavy cream.” What the heck, it was my own recipe, I could change it if I wanted.

Farnsworth seemed even more enthused, and lifted his glass “Bottom’s up” he said. I watched as he sipped, then tilted his head back to empty the glass. “My, that was interesting!” he said. “The Angostura Bitters clearly gives it a special flavour, don’t you think? Please, join me in another if you would be so kind!”

I filled three glasses, making the drink as I had for Farnsworth, and Marie and I toasted to Farnsworth this time, and he to our hospitality. Strangely, the bitter seemed to improve the drink, balancing the sweetness of the kaluha and helping integrate the flavors. “Heck,” I thought, “I MIGHT order this someplace. It’s good!”

Now it was close to closing time, but Farnsworth had some papers for me to sign, and offered me fifteen thousand pounds for exclusive rights to my recipe. I wasn’t sure of the exchange rate, but I figured I could catch up with my tuition for this year and next if it was anything close to fifteen thousand dollars. Farnsworth thanked me for my time, gave me a vellum copy of our agreement, and left. I locked the door behind him and turned off the flashing neon sign, the overhead lights, and drew the blinds.

“Do you think he was legitimate?” I asked Marie. She seemed almost to glow in the dim lights of the back bar and exit sign.

“I don’t know,” she said, “But I’ve been waiting to do this all night and we keep getting interrupted.” She took my face in her hands and drew me to her, opening my mouth with her tongue and kissing me with unbridled passion. She slid her hand roughly into my shirt, a button popping off as she did so, and caressed, then pinched my nipple. It felt like electricity running through me as she pulled my tie loose, almost choking me for a minute, then ripped my shirt open to my waist. Sitting on the barstool, she began to kiss my chest, nibbling on my nipples and tugging.

It was pain and it was ecstatic at the same time. I started to reach for her but she pushed my hands back, pinning them against the bar, a clear message that this was her time, her move, and I was simply to comply. Leaning back, I braced myself against the bar rail as her kisses covered my smooth chest and her hand slipped between my legs, cupping my balls and then working their way up my now rigid shaft. She fumbled a bit with my belt and pants before opening them and ripping the zipper open, pushing them forcefully down to my knees, then shoving my shorts down as I sprang free.

“Ohhh, what have we here?” she asked, her voice a throaty growl. She took my shaft in her hand and began stroking as she kissed to my navel, where she began to lick and probe with her tongue. She reached up with her other hand and began to pinch my nipple, hard, and despite the pain I could feel my tension and pleasure and the electric tingle growing and merging into an almost audible hum.

She looked down at my cock, now red and throbbing, the bulbous head shiny in the dim light, and said, “I think you are about ready.”

She got up, motioning for me not to move, and slid one of the old red leather barstools right in front of me. She straddled it, hooking her heels into the rungs, and spread her legs. She slid her dress up to her waist and moved to the edge of the barstool, where I could see that she was naked above her garterbelts, her sweet pussy dripping onto the leather. She grabbed my cock and pulled me into her and I arched my back to slide deep into her hot slickness. We began to rock together, faster, and her moans and grunts and cries got louder. I was on the edge of no return when she suddenly opened her mouth on my nipple and bit down, the flash of pain triggering my eruption into her.

I came like I’d never cum before, shooting deep inside her as spasm after spasm seemed to grip my balls and force my fluids out. She rocked on the stool, grasping and milking me with her wetness as my cum squeezed out of her and dripped down the side of the barstool. She stood on the rungs then and embraced me, and I wrapped my arms around her and held her. She leapt into my arms then, the barstool clattering to the floor, supported only by my strong embrace and my cock still inside her.

We stood like that for a long while, and I could feel her heart and mine pounding together, and feel our juices running down my balls and onto my thighs. As I stated to soften she asked me to set her down, but instead I lifted her onto the bar, her dripping pussy at the edge, and righted her barstool. “Mustn’t leave a mess,” I said, and put the stool in front of her, sitting where she’d been and feeling the cold leather and our slickness on my ass and balls as I leaned forward.

I pulled the hem of her dress forward and up, and slid a little closer. She looked at me with some curiosity as I slid the dress over my head, and in that cloaked darkness, I followed my nose to her sodden lips. As I kissed her soaking mound I heard her gasp, but her hands pressed me closer. I started to lick her slick lips and she started to moan again, shifting her hips back and forth to give me better access. I licked deep then parted her with my tongue, piercing her and humming again as my tongue circled her clit. She moaned her encouragement from above and I began to suck, my mouth quickly filling with her fluid and my spent cum, the thick nectar sweet and I swallowed then began licking and sucking harder. Gawd, how good she tasted and how warm she was. I could feel my own excitement growing again as it stretched and swelled against my thigh.