Chapter 3
Wesley
“All right,” Chad said. “I know that look. Spill, dude.”
“Her pussy was too tight to even describe,” I said.
“Whoa, Wesley! Jumping right out of the gate, I see. Not gonna even start with how this all started?”
“I met her at a club,” I said. “You know, I didn’t think I’d be into all the women who look fake and plastic, but it was a fucking good look on her.”
“Big tits?” Chad asked.
“Yep.”
“Massive lips?”
“They felt good around my cock, too,” I said.
“Slim stomach that was probably tucked after having a kid?”
“How’d you know she had a kid?” I asked.
“You’ve got this weird thing for cougars, dude. Don’t think I don’t notice you eyeing all the lonely single moms around this joint.”
“Everyone’s got their thing,” I said, shrugging. “And lonely moms need loving, too. Especially with the dick I’m packing.”
“I’ll take your word for it on that subject,” Chad said, grinning.
“Anyway, it was a nice few weeks, but shit like that doesn’t last,” I said. “I’m not a kid person, and they’re not looking for dads for their kids. It’s the perfect setup, some decent dates, a bit of conversation, some explosive sex, and you’re good to go.”
“She fell in love with you, didn’t she?”
“They always fucking do,” I said. “It’s weird. They want the no-strings-attached thing until they wake up the next morning. It’s why I try not to stay over. Then, it’s easier to get away from them when you know they’re getting attached. Don’t set the precedence of staying with them overnight, and they won’t expect it from you.”
“Sounds like the philosophy of a very lonely man,” Chad said.
“Says the guy who’s probably not getting enough pussy in his life, anyway,” I said.
“I have no idea what you get out of that,” Chad said. “Making women fall in love with you. I mean, you’re not getting anything out of the deal.”
“Yes, I am. Some good fucking sex.”
“I’m sure it’s not good fucking sex all the time,” he said.
“It is when they’re lonely and willing to be coached,” I said.
“Is that why you stayed so long this time? Because she had to be coached?”
“Nope,” I said. “I stayed with her so long this time because she had vaginal reconstruction surgery. I swear to hell and back, I slipped inside her once and thought I’d blow my load all over the place.”
“Nice, but gross,” he said. “You know I’m your boss, right?”
“You know you’re also my best friend, right?” I asked.
“You mean to tell me I own this bar and that doesn’t garner me enough respect when you’re clocked in to just shut your mouth until we can get a proper drink on our break?”
“Wait,” I said. “Since when did we get to drink on breaks?”
“Since now,” Chad said. “I’m the owner. I do what I want. Let’s save this talk for when we’re having a drink. Then you can give me the juicy details.”
“Surprised you can’t smell them,” I said, smirking.
“Dude, if you haven’t showered, I’m fucking throwing you into the damn ocean before your shift.”
“Calm down,” I said, grinning. “I showered. I’m good. Just a joke. Lighten up, boss man.”
“You know you’re a dick for doing all this shit to women, right?” Chad asked.
“No woman has ever treated me decently. What the fuck do I owe them anything for?”
“These women haven’t treated you like shit,” Chad said. “That’s the difference.”
“Not to me,” I said.
“Dude, your mother fucked you over,” he said. “I get it. But you’re playing with other women’s hearts. Women who are mothers. Who are probably better mothers than your mother was. It’s fucked up.”
“Can we stop saying the word ‘mother,’ please?” I asked.
“All I’m saying is, it’s dickish of you to take out your anger toward your own mother on someone else’s,” Chad said.
“Thanks, Dr. Phil,” I said.
“Plus, you’re a good-looking guy. I’m sure there’s one woman out there who’s at least treated you somewhat decent.”
Maybe just one.
“Not a fucking one,” I said.
“Whatever,” Chad said, smirking. “Anyway, clock in. You’re officially five minutes late. Quit yappin’ with your friends and get to work.”
“Tell the boss man to try not to fire me between now and the time I can get to the register,” I said.
I clocked in and got to work. Order after order went out for people who were coming up to the bar and ordering drinks. I pocketed the wads of cash thrown down onto the bar as tips and then chuckled at how it was merely pocket change. My mouth began to salivate at the wads of cash I’d stored away in my apartment before coming to work. I had to wait until I knew the trail was cold before I could deposit the money, so I put it all in a safe underneath a floorboard in my kitchen pantry before I came out to work.
I looked up just as a young girl approached the bar. Tan skin, small tits, and a string bikini she’d obviously been in all day. Her dark brown hair fell to just below her ears, and her eyes instantly locked onto mine. When she presented her ID, I noticed she turned twenty-one just today, so I made her a special cocktail, complete with a handful of cherries.
“For the birthday girl,” I said, smiling.
“Colorful, just like your blue eyes,” she said.
“Funny, I figured blue would be your favorite color.”
The girl giggled before she leaned herself against the bar. I could see her nipples hardening against her bathing suit, but I wasn’t interested. She wasn’t older, and she most certainly didn’t have money. But, I knew if I flirted with her, I’d get a better tip out of it.
“This drink’s really good,” she said. “What’s in it?”
“Oh, a little bit of this and a little bit of that,” I said. “It’s my famous concoction. You can only get it from me, so if you want more, don’t hesitate to beg.” I winked at her.
“Oh please, bartender,” she said playfully. “Please make me another one. I’ll do anything.”
I made her another drink and slid it her way. She curled her lips salaciously around the small black straw protruding from the plastic cup, but it did absolutely nothing for me.
Maybe if you were rich, I’d try it.
She eyed me while she downed her drink before she grabbed a napkin and reached for a pen. She left her number, along with a twenty-dollar tip, and I pocketed the money before throwing away her number. I had no intention of calling her or hooking up, but just as I was about to clean my station, a beautiful older woman sat down at the bar.
And she was flashing a thick diamond ring on her right hand.
“Well, hello gorgeous,” I said. “How can I help you this evening?”
“Are you one of those bars that does all those fruity cocktails? Or can you get a very stressed out woman a simple martini?”
“For you, anything is possible,” I said.
“And don’t waste any room with those pesky olives,” the woman said.
“Such a shame. Olives are a wonderfully healthy snack. Are you sure you don’t simply want them on a small plate?”
The woman eyed me the entire time I made the drink, and when I slid it over to her, I plucked an olive from the iced jar in the refrigerator. I held it between my fingers and rested my elbow on the bar, sinking my eyes into the woman while she darted her gaze between the piece of food and my face.
“Are you sure you wouldn’t like one?” I asked.
The woman bent over and plucked the olive from between my fingertips, and I had to bite back a groan at the way her lips lightly curled around my skin. She slowly chewed the olive, savoring every bite as her eyes fluttered closed. I could feel my dick twitching underneath my work pants.
I’d found my next mark.
“I can’t say I’ve seen you around here,” I said. “I would’ve remembered those beautiful green eyes.”
“I’ve lived here for years,” she said. “But I’ve never been to this particular bar.”
“Then, that explains it. Tell me, how’s that martini tasting?”
She lifted the drink to her lips, and I lifted my hand to the rim of the glass. I playfully tipped it up and watched her swallow it down, seemingly opening her throat and allowing the clear liquid to pour down her throat. My cock came to life, thinking of how I would slide it down her perfect throat before taking every last cent she had on her.
She giggled as she set her drink down before covering her mouth with her hand and blushing.
“Never hide a beautiful face like that,” I said as I grabbed her hand. “It makes the world a bit darker.”
“I take it you like older women,” she said.
“Is there something wrong with that?” I asked.
“Not at all. The question is, do you enjoy older women with children?”
“In my experience,” I began. “It’s the women with children who know how to really please a man in bed. And the great part about that is I get to reward their experience with a bit of my youthful prowess.”
I clocked the way her neck was flushing along with the clenching of her jaw. Every woman had a tell. There was the involuntary flushing before they tried to do something to stop it. It was a battle between what their bodies longed for and what society had kept jamming down their throats.
The only thing I wanted to jam down this lovely woman’s throat was my cock just before I gave her the greatest orgasm she would ever experience.
“Are you a self-proclaimed expert?” she asked. “Or is that simply your ego talking?”
“I could stand here and allow you to think it’s simply my ego, but that would be no fun. If you’d indulge me, I’d enjoy taking you out just so you might be able to figure it out for yourself.”
“Might?” the woman asked.
“No use in allowing someone to stimulate your body if they can’t stimulate your mind as well,” I said.
I saw that dreamy look wash across her face, and I knew I had her. I watched the way she leaned forward onto her forearms against the bar, trying to get as close to me as she physically could. Her body was screaming out for me in ways I didn’t even think she realized, so it was no shock when the answer to my question poured easily from her lips.
“I’d love to get to know you,” she said.
“I really was hoping you’d say that,” I said. “But there’s only one thing you have to do.”
“And what’s that?”
“Come back here tomorrow evening,” I said. “I work up until dinner time, and then I can whisk us away somewhere so we can have a more private encounter with one another.”
I grinned when she leaned over and pressed a kiss to my cheek before she scribbled her number down onto a napkin.
“See you tomorrow evening, bartender,” she said.
Then, I put her number in my pocket, along with the forty-dollar tip she’d slipped into the back of my shirt collar when she’d kissed me.
Hook. Line. And Sinker.