Everyone having sex is at least 18. This is fiction, I made it all up. Warning: this is a self-edited story. I do use Grammarly to help reduce my ability to murder the English language. Special thanks to goducks1 for his help.
For those of you that are not into gay (male on male) sex, you are safe in this story. Gay dressed men exist in the story, but they are only part of the background.
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Chapter 1 -- At the Bar
My name is Mike. I am a small guy, about 5' 5". I look very average to the casual observer. I wear baggy clothes to conceal myself, a solid muscle, 6-degree black belt martial arts student. Ok, technically you can't see that I am a black belt, but it gives you an idea of my physical conditioning and abilities. I work as a bouncer at an LGB bar in a southern college town. I am a straight college student studying to be a police officer like my dad and his dad.
My sister Ell, short for Elizabeth, is a bartender at the same bar. She is 22, tall, long blond hair, huge soft blue eyes, thin, 36C chest. She has long legs and typical at this bar, wears short shorts and a halter top. She is a lesbian. She was raped at age 14. That was life-altering and started a life of hating men. I would think its obvious why she is a lesbian now. She is a nursing student and two years older than me, we were not the closest growing up. She had a problem with me, I was a male. I understood but it still hurt.
We live off campus near the bar in a small apartment. It's nothing special, two small bedrooms, a ten by ten kitchen and a small living room. Perfect for two college kids. With our wages and parental help, we live pretty well. Both our parents work, make decent money, and help a bunch which we both appreciate.
Typically, the bar has four guys on security with two at the doors. The third is by the bar, and the fourth (me) mingles. I am Joe Average, I don't stick out. Often, I lose myself in the crowd or a dark corner. That's just perfect with me. I take my job very seriously. The bar is large because dancing is a big part of the theme. I would not call it a country bar, but they play a lot of country music.
It is a quiet Tuesday early evening, line dancing night, I get to participate, and I wear my black cowboy hat. I immediately notice four odd-looking guys dressed in black as they came in. Most people at an LGB bar want to be noticed, they are a bit more ... flamboyant, they want attention. These four stood out to me because they are just the opposite. I have a bad feeling about this. You know the feeling, something you can't quite put your finger on, has alerted you that something is unusual. For me, all my internal alarms just went off.
I step up to the bar and discretely call 911 on my cell phone, this feels bad. I would rather apologize for a wasted trip than be sorry for doing nothing. I tell the 911 operator softly, "Four guys dressed in black, possible robbery, come silent, potential hostages at Toby's Bar," and hang up. That will get them here quick. It still could be five to ten minutes before they get here. If this is bad, I want them on the way now.
The bar is on the edge of town, nobody wants an LGB bar near them. The four guys try to mingle but are slowly making their way to the bar. I move to the end of the bar and close in on the group. One guy quickly shows Sally, a bartender, his gun and asks for the money. The bartenders training says hand over the cash, don't let them hurt anyone. She throws it in the Walmart plastic bag he provides.
Guess they weren't expecting much money or there is more to this than just a simple robbery. Bells are going off in my head again. OH SHIT. Stay calm, I can handle this. She fills the bag with the cash, then he walks toward the front door to exit. His partner asks the other bartender, Brenda, and my sister, to come with him. The girls shake their heads no. He pulls out his gun and waves it in the air for the entire bar to see. People scream and panic, all eyes are on the gunman as the money guy walks to the door.
That is my sister they are messing with and a flash of anger shoots through me. This isn't mad the type of mad because a pair of jeans is out of stock. No, this is the type of anger that will allow me to kill someone without remorse. I now have been released from only acting defensively as the gun is shown. This is bad.
But I think this is odd. Why take several hundred dollars and then leave guys behind to kill people. He doesn't want to kill people, he wants two hostages or some female entertainment for them. Still, why four total guys, probably a fifth as driver? One leaves and three remain to gather women. This is weird. I am confused trying to figure it out and so I am slow to react.
The guy in front of me is quickly on the floor from two lightning-fast punches. He will be out cold for a while. The guy next to the gunman that was trying to take my sister pulls out a black revolver and shoots two people close to him in their chests. They go down quickly. Dead. That pisses me off. I am like lightning now.
I quickly maneuver between the few people running past me, throw a kick at the shooters knee which bends him down. A few quick hits to the body, armpit and neck. He is out cold. The gunman nearest my sister pulls his gun arm up towards her but never makes it. I bend his arm, I hear a crack. He is in agony. Few more quick hits and he is unconscious on the floor. He feels no pain now.
In a flash I see the horror on my sister's face as she realizes that she WAS in imminent danger. He may have killed her. I was there though, and he is no longer standing or conscious. That humors me but just for a quick second.
I run outside to get the guy with the money and run into five policemen with guns drawn. A sixth officer is on the ground over the money guy who is in cuffs. I smile and that confuses the police officers.
I throw my hands up, put them behind my head and say, "I am Chief Stanton's son. I work here as a bouncer, you need three ambulances for the guys inside."
I go down to my knees and they cuff me. This is standard operating procedure, I can just as easily be a bad guy, they cuff me until they know exactly who I am and that I am no threat. It doesn't take long for someone to show up that knows me, and I am released. I run inside to comfort my sister and the other bartenders. Ell can't talk, she is in shock. The other girl is hysterical. I reach out with my hand to help each of them up. I drag them to a table next to the bar and get them to sit. I hug each one for a long time so they can feel my protection.
I pull two beers and tell them with a smile on my face, "Drink up. It's over. Relax." They smile at me and drink. It is a long evening answering questions from the police and filling out statements by everyone at the bar.
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The next day dad came to our apartment in his uniform with an IT guy and his laptop. They had taken the video from the bar and spliced it together. It showed the robbery and me taking the three guys out in six seconds.
My dad proudly says, "Son, nobody in my department has duplicated that feat in the gym, we tried, you did great. I'm very proud of you. You probably saved your sister's life. Your mother wants you and your sister to come for dinner tonight at 6:00 sharp."
I know, mom must see that we are ok with her own eyes; a call is not good enough for her. She made our favorites and over dinner we never talk about the bar. On the drive home Ell takes my hand and holds it. This is extremely unusual, I am surprised. Typically, she ignores me or is indifferent. Her hands are warm and feel soft. My hands are calloused from lifting weights.
Ell seems sad, "I saw the gun and his arm going up. He was going to shoot me. You saved my life." Her voice trails off.
Ell softly says with a smirk on her face, "Mike, you're not so bad... for a guy."
Who knew, she almost has a sense of humor.
I reply dryly, "I try."
Ell questions me, she looks curious, "How come you work with me at the bar? There are no straight women there and the guys aren't your type, right?"
I chuckle, "No. Nobody there for me. I needed a job, so I figured your bar was as good as any other. Besides, I get to be your protector which makes mom and dad happy. Otherwise, I would rather just be left alone. As I proved, I am quite capable at handling difficult situations. It's nothing new, I handle crazy situations at the bar every night. This is just different because you were involved."
Ell rebuffs me, "No. having a gun pointing at my face is not an every day occurrence. Having you take out three armed guys in six seconds, a feat nobody else can do, that is amazing. It certainly isn't a common occurrence."
Ell probes deeper, "You want to be left alone? Is that a problem, having pretty women see you?"
I test her memory, "Ell, do you remember high school?"
She nods yes.
I blush, "It got around that I was pretty big and skilled in bed. That is when I spent a lot of time training in the gym and working on my black belts. As I added more and more muscle, the women and teachers were rude. They grabbed and touched me. That's why you never see the real me, I try to hide my body to prevent that from happening again. It was extremely embarrassing and rude. You should know, you are always the hottest woman in the room, everyone stares at your boobs. Don't tell me that doesn't bother you."
Ell asks teasingly, "Do you?"
I am confused, "Do I what?"
Ell continues, "Do you look and lust after my breasts. You said I am the best-looking woman there every night. That means you have noticed. How much do you notice?"
I am annoyed at that question, I shoot back, "Do you go staring at me around the house?"
Ell looks shaken, "Why no, you are just my brother."
I win, "Well, there you go, you are just my sister."
Not used to losing Ell snaps back, "But, I am hot and you like women. Do you ever think of me when you jack off at night?"
I am not going down this rabbit hole, "Ok Ell, maybe we should just drop this conversation. I am not discussing my sex life with you."
Surprisingly, Ell continues and teases me, "You never answered my question."
I have moved on, so I stun her, "I'm thinking of quitting."
That will stop this line of questioning. Shock her. I can easily find a job anywhere.
Ell is adamant, "No!"
What did she say, I question, "No?"
Ell pleads, "No, you can't quit. I need you there."
I am shaking my head in disbelief, "You have never needed me for anything. To you, I was better off never having been born. Besides, things are going to get weird, look at our conversation tonight, then guys will want to fight me to prove how tough they are. Straight girls will start coming in. I am going to ruin everything. I need to quit. It will be best for everyone." I laugh. "You need me there? Yeah, right."
Ell suggests, "Become a bartender."
Yuck, I reply, "Been there, done that. No thanks."
Forcefully, Ell says, "You are not quitting. If you make me, I will pout, cry, and make sad faces until you come back. You know you can't say no to me."
I pull up into the driveway in my black 4x4 pickup. I am thrilled to be home and avoid this conversation.
I announce with a weary voice, "We are home, I am tired and going to bed, I'll see you in the morning."
Yes, I did ignore her last question. That conversation was getting weird. I was uncomfortable with the subject matter. That is typical for me. She is right though. Her sexy looks have always gotten to me. The answer is hell yes. With tits like she has, yes. I masturbated quite often. However, there is no way in hell I am letting her know that.
I go to my room, strip to my boxers, and jump in my nice warm and cozy bed. I fall fast asleep. Life is cruel at times. I am woken up by my sister about an hour later. Swell. I am frustrated. Ell looks like crap, untidy hair, running makeup, non-matching clothes, and she looks tired. This is certainly not typical.
Sleepily she asks, "I didn't sleep last night, and I can't again tonight due to ..., can I jump in with you and will you hold me?"
