Chapter 1.
Samuel, Sam to his friends, leapt out of the car and drank in the view.
The "Den of Iniquity" in all its red and black livery. It had changed in the four months of his absence, for the better, he decided. He almost ran inside the club and was only prevented from doing so by his business partner, Dennis, rushing out to meet him.
'Doctor Quigley, I presume?'
Samuel laughed, deeply pleased, 'not quite, a few odds and ends and then I will insist that you use my title of doctor, mister Padraig,' he emphasised the mister.
'Anyway, my heartiest congratulations, however, doesn't the other title of bar owner and mixologist seem somehow unbecoming for one so learned,' Dennis gave a mock bow. Sam shrugged this off, good humouredly.
Dennis regaled him with the improvements they had made since he last saw the place, gesticulating at every little feature, 'luckily, we just finished seeing as how we weren't expecting you for another week. You really like it,' Dennis could be like a puppy dog sometimes, wanting approval.
'Well, the outside sure looks good, better than when we started this off a year ago.'
'It's not just the outside,' Dennis enthused, 'wait 'til you see inside.'
Dennis hustled him inside, it was the same layout, furniture, and dim lighting as before.
'Sorry Dennis, I don't see anything..., what's new?'
'Don't you feel it?' Dennis asked, disappointment in his voice.
'Oh, sure, it's cool, you installed climate control, where'd you get the money from?'
'Don't take this wrong but, I changed the recruitment policy, and now we aim at the older market, mainly men, we're making money hand over fist. We're popular with clubs like bowlers and stuff, in fact I've even employed a "Maitre'd".' He greets people at the door, which is closed, no riffraff allowed, but the best thing is he's a veteran, the younger group didn't take too kindly to that fact, but he's popular with older age group that come here, many of them are "vets", anyway you'll never guess what we call him.' Dennis paused waiting for Sam to prompt him.
'Okay, what is it?'
'Well, his name's Norman, he was in Kuwait or Iraq, in "Desert Storm", he's also a Mormon. so that makes him "Stormin' Norman, the Mormon Doorman,' Dennis was doubled over with laughter, 'get it.'
Sam waited until his spasm of laughter had abated. 'Why can't we appeal to every age group?' Sam thought it a reasonable question as he pulled two draft beers.
'There's your answer, far end of the room.' Dennis had a wide grin; this was his coup d'Γ©tat of surprises.
Sam peered through the gloom of the low-lit bar, 'wow! That's quite something.'
That's one of the changes I told you about, it's not the furniture, nor the lighting, it's the ambience.'
'That is some ambience,' Sam agreed, 'gee, look at that.'
They both took a moment to look, the waitress wore black seamed stockings, heels, but most striking of all was her black mini-waitress frock, it had a stiff petticoat which flared out.
'Look, see how she dresses the table, doesn't walk around it, just leans over, her little frock becomes raised, and "voila", cute pair of panties, frills on front and back, just leaves a little bit to the imagination. Guaranteed boner every time I see her.'
'Don't blame you one little bit, I've got a boner as well,' Sam continued to stare, the tautness of the stocking welt where it was gripped by the suspender straps of the garter belt. She had posed herself underneath one of the stronger lights. Was that by design?
'A sight for sore eyes, why didn't you tell me about all this?'
'Well, I did tell you about the name change from "PandQ's" but when it came to the waitress outfits...., it seemed such a long-winded message and I thought you'd appreciate it more if you saw it as a surprise. Anyway, to be honest it took a while for word to get around, what helped was the criticism we got on social media from the woke crowd, it was a great help.'
Sam smiled, 'Let's drink a toast, "idiots and social media",' they each took a slurp of beer, 'so this is the lady responsible for the uniform changes'
'Yeah, she knows what men like, before you meet her though there's one teeny-weeny problem.' Dennis created a small gap between a thumb and forefinger.
'Don't tell me she's resigned.'
'No, nothing like that, it's just that she lives here, above the club, er, in your flat, let's face it, it has two bedrooms, oh, and just one question, do you recognise her?'
'Of course not, why the hell should I?'
'Erm, cause it's Helen, your mom!'
Samuel spluttered a large mouthful of beer all over the bar.
Helen, hearing the commotion and having finished setting the table looked up, 'Sam,' she shrieked, and walked quickly to the bar, her heels making a sexy clicking sound.
She could see Sam was not too pleased.
'Sam, meet Helen, the staff manager, Helen, I think you know Sam?'
'Dennis, stop fooling,' she looked up at Sam, 'hi boss,' and did a small curtsy, holding the hem of her dress as she did so, showing her panties.
Sam was annoyed with himself for looking and enjoying it.
'I've revolutionised the club's uniform, what do you think,' performing a pirouette, panties again on show.