I would like to introduce you to my friend and coworker in a series of stories he has told me. For starters, you need to know that Tim is a dick. However, that description is not totally accurate. His character is a lot more complicated than can be summed up by one simple derogatory word. Maybe I should let you be the judge.
Don't get me wrong. I like the guy, but we couldn't be more different. I am trying to understand what makes this guy tick. This story is my attempt to understand his motivations. Come along for the ride if you dare. It may not be pleasant, but hopefully you will understand my fascination with this guy.
Tim likes to control everything, especially people both physically and mentally. He used to work as a foreman electrician and since his accident he is a program manager at a small communications research and development company. He is used to being in charge where ever he goes. As a foreman, he had to be tough to control a bunch of drunk, roughneck electricians. He told me it was easier to manage the rowdy electricians than the engineers he now supervises. At least he understood what motivated the electricians. This story is from a time when he was still a foreman.
As a union electrician, he was well paid especially for a young single guy living in central New York State. Once just to fuck with people's heads, he lit a hundred dollar bill on fire at a bar. Needless to say the girl he was trying to impress went home with him that night.
At the time this story takes place, Tim was still a vigorous young man and he had not yet been banned from every bar within 50 miles. It was a Friday night and everyone at the bar was drinking their paychecks. Tim was buzzed, but getting drunk was not his primary goal. He'd taken a lot of crap from the owner of the construction firm that had hired Tim's crew. Tim had taken the heat for a fuck up by one of his team. Tim was loyal to his men and refused to let anyone mess with his crew. He is old-school that way. Tim believes that shit flows downhill and it is the crew chief's duty to take the shit. So Tim took the blame. However, come Monday he planned on firing the culprit. But now Tim felt pissed and he was looking for a fight. He didn't care who the victim was. He just needed to vent his frustrations. Of course on many nights, Tim ended up in a bar fight without any excuse. So tonight Tim was aching for a fight.
The bar was one of the classiest places in Sylvan Beach which means it was a bit cleaner dive. Sylvan Beach is a wannabe tourist trap on the eastern end of Oneida Lake. There is a beach, a tiny carnival as well as numerous bars and restaurants. The Erie Canal enters the lake at Sylvan Beach and this brings in a variety of boat traffic. Some of the traffic includes luxury yachts that tie up at the dock.
Tim figured the upper-class couple at the bar belonged to the yacht crowd. The guy was dressed in white khaki pants and a well fitted white shirt. His hair was a mass of curls held in place with hair spray. He was also sporting a well-trimmed mustache. If it weren't for the gorgeous babe fawning on him, Tim would have figured the guy was gay. Still the man was considerably bigger than Tim's 190 pounds.
The woman was drawing a lot of attention from everyone. She was every guy's wet dream and the women in the bar were especially jealous. She was tall with an hourglass figure. Long legs, delicious ass and big breasts. Tim was getting hard just staring at her athletic body. She was built for fucking. Of course, her clothes or near lack of them put all of her charms on display. She was wearing a skimpy white bikini covered by a transparent floral wrap. The wrap was held closed by a flimsy cloth belt of the same material. The wrap barely covered the bottom of her suit. She was wearing Sperry Top-Siders. Her beautiful face looked like it had gotten just a bit too much sun. She was wearing a pair of diamond earrings. Her long blond hair was held in place with a white band that matched her bikini.
The guy seemed pleased at the attention his woman was attracting. But he was also very possessive. He had his large hand on her trim neck as he discussed navigation on the canal with a small group of well-dressed people nearby.
It didn't take Tim long to decide how much he wanted to seduce this upper-class bitch. Tim waited patiently until the man headed to the bathroom. Even rich people pee after drinking a lot of beer. Tim immediately made his move. Several other guys had the same idea but quickly sat back down when they realized Tim's intentions. It helped that he had a reputation. Indeed, a couple of the guys had personally experienced Tim's skills in a bar fight.
Tim settled down on the man's vacant stool.
The woman looked at him with annoyance. She quickly said, "That seat is taken."
Tim grinned. She smelled as good as she looked. He could detect a hint of sunscreen and the sun warmed body under a light layer of perfume.
Tim said, "You can do better than that pansy. You can do a lot better."
The young woman sat up straight and glared at Tim. Her eyes flashed as she said, "Stop being rude and just leave before my fiancée comes back and gives you a thrashing."
Tim laughed and leaned in close. He said, "I know his type. I'll bet the self-centered twit never considers your happiness. I'll bet he just sticks it in, does his business and then falls asleep. I'll bet he's never given you an orgasm. Isn't that right?"
The woman jerked back as if she'd been slapped. She practically spit as she said, "How dare you! Now would you just leave?"
Tim said, "So I was right. You don't deny it. He is an asshole. Seriously you need to find yourself a considerate man who takes care of your needs before his."
Tim heard a shout from behind his back, "Allison, is this guy bothering you?"
Tim stood up and turned to face the guy. The guys towered over Tim. His fists were cocked and his face was red. Tim said, "The lady was just telling me what a jerk you are. Seems you never satisfy her needs."
The guy yelled in rage and swung a sweeping right hook at Tim's head. It would have decked Tim if he hadn't stepped inside the haymaker. Now in Tim's book there is no such thing as a fair fight. Either you take the guy out or else he kicks the shit out of you. Tim landed a three punch combination. The first blow crushed the guy's larynx. The second fist drove into his solar plexus forcing the air out of his lungs. The third strike smashed his nose as he was falling to the floor. Blood and mucus poured out of his nose as he gasped for air. The girl dropped to the floor to protect her man.
She looked up at Tim and yelled, "What kind of monster are you?"
She pleaded with the crowd for an ambulance. Tim stood there grinning from the adrenaline rush of winning another bar fight. He surveyed the guy on the floor. It always looked worse than it actually was. He knew from experience that the guy probably thought he was going to die. In fact, he had gotten off easy. Every time Tim had lost a fight, he had suffered a lot worse injuries. He had stopped losing once he stopped worrying about fighting fair. Hell, he had even resisted the urge to kick this asshole in the nuts. One quick kick and this guy would never have kids.
A cop arrived along with the EMTs. He glared at Tim, who smiled and waved back. Tim recognized the officer. They had gone to school together since first grade. Everyone at the bar told the cop that the other guy had started the fight. Tim had merely finished it.
The cop finally came over to Tim and said, "I am tired of responding to bar fights and finding you involved. One of these days you are going kill someone. Don't expect me to save your ass then. I'd toss you in the can tonight except my shift is almost done and I don't need the paperwork. So get the fuck out of here and go home."
Tim said, "Hey, nice to see you too, Steve."
Tim walked out of the bar satisfied with his evening. He found the woman desperately trying to call a cab but failed g to get a signal on her cell. Well, they didn't call this the boondocks for nothing.
Tim said, "Allison, can I help?"
