Bartender with Benefits
Mickey Miller
Copyright © 2018 by Mickey Miller
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Contents
Blackwell After Dark Series:
1. Mason
2. Mason
3. Mason
4. Clarissa
5. Mason
6. Mason
7. Mason
8. Clarissa
9. Mason
10. Mason
11. Mason
12. Clarissa
13. Mason
14. Mason
15. Mason
16. Clarissa
17. Mason
18. Mason
19. Mason
20. Clarissa
21. Mason
22. Mason
23. Clarissa
24. Mason
25. Mason
26. Mason
27. Mason
28. Mason
29. Mason
30. Mason
31. Mason
32. Clarissa
Epilogue - Mason
Second Epilogue - Mason
Also by Mickey Miller
About the Author
Foreward
Aon
Due
Trì
Quattro
Còig
Sei
Seachd
Otto
Naoi
Dieci
Aon Deug
Dodici
Tri Deug
Quattordici
Sia Deug
Sedici
Seachd Deug
Diciotto
Naoi Deug
Venti
Aon Fiche
Ventidue
Tri Fiche
Ventiquattro
Sia Fiche
Ventisei
Seachd Fiche
Ventotto
Seachd Fiche
Trenta
Epilogue
Boss with Benefits - Preface
Soundtrack to Boss with Benefits
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
How to get the Bonus Epilogue
Acknowledgments
Also by Mickey Miller
Blackwell After Dark Series:
Blackwell - The Kinkiest Small Town in America:
Professor with Benefits (Cole)
Mechanic with Benefits (Liam)
Boss with Benefits (Sebastian)
Bartender with Benefits (Mason)
Baller with Benefits (Carter - Coming in June)
Pregame - a Bartender with Benefits Prequel
In this book, I’ve also included a couple of bonus novels! Enjoy!
Contents
1. Mason
2. Mason
3. Mason
4. Clarissa
5. Mason
6. Mason
7. Mason
8. Clarissa
9. Mason
10. Mason
11. Mason
12. Clarissa
13. Mason
14. Mason
15. Mason
16. Clarissa
17. Mason
18. Mason
19. Mason
20. Clarissa
21. Mason
22. Mason
23. Clarissa
24. Mason
25. Mason
26. Mason
27. Mason
28. Mason
29. Mason
30. Mason
31. Mason
32. Clarissa
Epilogue - Mason
Second Epilogue - Mason
Also by Mickey Miller
About the Author
Foreward
Aon
Due
Trì
Quattro
Còig
Sei
Seachd
Otto
Naoi
Dieci
Aon Deug
Dodici
Tri Deug
Quattordici
Sia Deug
Sedici
Seachd Deug
Diciotto
Naoi Deug
Venti
Aon Fiche
Ventidue
Tri Fiche
Ventiquattro
Sia Fiche
Ventisei
Seachd Fiche
Ventotto
Seachd Fiche
Trenta
Epilogue
Boss with Benefits - Preface
Soundtrack to Boss with Benefits
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
How to get the Bonus Epilogue
Acknowledgments
Also by Mickey Miller
1
Mason
The Golden Rule
They say a bartender is a part-time therapist and a part-time party host.
And yeah, in between, we make a few drinks, too.
In the years I’ve spent tending bar—in my small town at The Watering Hole—I’ve witnessed it all.
You can tell a lot about someone—not only by the drink they order, but how they order it.
For example, does a guy ask for a drink menu, stare at it for ten minutes, then look up at you and say, “Ah, you know, I guess I’ll just have a Bud Light.”
If so, I’d venture to say that guy is indecisive in many areas of his life.
Or, how about the woman who comes in and orders a Martini, extra dry, shaken, extra cold, but after a sip she says, “Excuse me! This is too cold.”
Yeah, honey. It’s called wait a minute and it will warm to your perfect temperature.
Impatient, much?
Then there are the mating rituals one sees from the bartender’s perspective.
Fellas, allow me to let you in on a little secret. When you get shithouse drunk, you aren’t smoother than when you’re sober. You think you are speaking more confidently, but that’s not happening in reality.
Take the guy at the corner of the bar tonight. Several drinks in, he’s chatting up the girl on the corner bar stool. Wearing a worn baseball cap to cover up balding hair, slightly overweight and, there’s no chance in hell with this girl. She’s way out of his league: gorgeous, funny, smart, and bubbly.
In a smooth bartender move, I surreptitiously slide a few feet to my right within earshot. I want to hear this whole thing going down.
“So I pull out my gun, right. It’s an AK 47. I’m on this terrorist mission, and we’re taking these guys out,” the guy says. He holds up a finger, pausing to take another sip of beer.
“Ehm,
wait,” the girl stops him. “So, you were in Afghanistan?”
“Uhh, no. I’ve been talking about this new video game,” he says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.
“Huh. You totally had me going! I thought you were in the Army. That’s really cool though, I like video games.,” she says, still extremely bubbly.
The guy continues with his story. I have to hold back my laughter because the poor girl on the other side of his story is Clarissa Hanks, my best friend’s sister and Blackwell’s resident genius. Not many are aware of her closet smarts. She just finished her master’s degree at Harvard. From the way she carries herself, you wouldn’t know it. She is humble and knows how to blend in. Clearly, this guy hasn’t taken the time to ask her a single question> he thinks his story about a new video game is going to get her going.
He’s off. Way off.
The guy keeps going on about the video game. I wouldn’t know because I don’t play video games. I’m too busy doing stuff in the real world.
I know, imagine that, a guy who doesn’t play video games.
Clarissa flips her long brown hair behind her ears and runs her hand through her bangs with a look of frustration. She pushes her glasses up on her nose. I wipe down the bar nonchalantly all the while, infinitely curious as to how this one is going to play out.
“So, that was my first virtual adventure,” the guy says, finally taking a breath. “Wanna hear another one?”
That is when I notice his line of sight is directed right at Clarissa’s breasts. I sigh because she’s a nice girl. In fact, she’s too nice.
And she’s definitely hot. I know from first-hand experience from a crazy day in high school when Clarissa and I may or may not have made out.
But that’s a secret neither of us ever remind ourselves of. Mostly because her big brother Cole, also my best friend, would have it out for both of us.
Anyways, I’m getting ahead of myself.
I know what she’s probably thinking right now, sitting by this guy. She doesn’t want to tell him off, as bored as she probably is by his video game story. I feel a pang in my gut, because she’s always this nice, with a soft and welcoming personality.
This is not the first time it has gotten her into trouble, though the incident was years ago. And it’s something I’ve been trying to forget forever.
My game of observing Clarissa and Mr. Video Games is interrupted when one of the cocktail waitresses, Courtney, flags me down at the well.
“Hey,” she says with a sly grin, leaning down so I can see ample cleavage. And that’s no accident. “The woman at table fifteen says this is the best Old Fashioned she’s had in her life. And she wants to know your secret ingredient.”
I glance at table fifteen and swallow. It’s none other than Blackwell’s resident cougar, Professor Allison. She raises her glass my way and smiles. She’s older, sexy, and she’s got that flirty look in her eye as she grins.
“She also said she heard about your...ahem...special talent.”
I take a breath and rub my temple with my thumb and forefinger. Everyone thinks the bartender is always a big one-night stand guy. With me, that’s not true. I don’t sleep with customers. Or co-workers. That is the golden rule in the service industry if you want to avoid constant drama, and it’s how I’ve kept my good name as a bartender in this town for seven straight years.
I learned my lesson the hard way.
I took a customer home, a couple of years ago. Let’s just say I took care of her. Multiple times. In multiple positions. Afterwards, I found out she hadn’t even had one orgasm before that.
Not to mention, she did a great job of apparently informing the entire town about the size of my downstairs, ahem, apartment.
Let’s just say that for all of my possible shortcomings, that’s one area I’ve got covered and then some.
Pleasing a woman comes naturally to me. And thanks to my one-night stand on that fateful night, the entire town knows about my special abilities.
“Well that’s nice of her,” I say. “Thank her for the compliment about the Old Fashioned and tell her that the special ingredient is-”
“I told her if anyone is going to be lucky enough to take advantage of your special talent it’s going to be me,” Courtney lowers her voice, and presses her boobs together, baiting me to look. My eyes remain focused on Courtney’s face. “Mason, I’ll be the best you’ve ever had. Trust me.”
“Courtney, I’m flattered, but I’ve told you the golden rule a million times. I-”
“...don’t shit where you eat.” she cuts me off. “I respect that. I’m just saying. If that changes, you know where to find me.”
I tip my chin in the direction of one of her tables. “I think your table needs you.”
When I check on Clarissa again, the guy she’s with calls out.
“Hey man, can I get another Bud?” he asks.
“Sure thing, Champ,” I say, cocking my chin at him. “Coming right up.”
I open a can of Bud Light and set it in front of him.
“That’ll be three dollars.”
He opens up his wallet, and a worried look spreads across his face. “Oh, You know what?” he frowns. “I’m out of cash. Do you have any cash on you by chance?” he asks, looking to Clarissa.
Clarissa's eyes lock with mine. Her eyebrows raise, and she mouths the words, “Help please.”
Guys, one more thing. If you don’t have the money to go have beers, maybe you shouldn’t be in the bar. You should probably be working.
I am not about to leave Clarissa hanging out to dry, so I go back to my old playbook.
“Hey. Look, it’s okay man,” I say, “Any guy nice enough to have a drink with my girlfriend, I let drink for free if they need to. Isn’t that right, sweetie?” I lean over the bar, massaging Clarissa’s shoulder. She leans into me, picking up on my play.
“Uh, wait. You two are dating?” he says, taken aback.
Clarissa doesn’t miss a beat. She knows what I’m doing.
“Oh yeah, we’ve been going strong for a while now.”
“What’s it been honey, four months? Any friend of Clarissa’s is a friend of mine. Just try to remember your wallet next time,” I wink.
“Oh, all right,” he mutters, clearly dejected his target is taken. “I think I'm gonna head out.”
In a sort of impressive feat, the man guzzles down the entire can of Bud Light, slams it on the bar and walks out in a huff.
“Bye, drunk man,” Clarissa waves, her voice sweet as pie. When he’s gone, she turns to me.
“Mason, you are so ridiculous.” She shakes her head at me. “I was kind of trying to score. You totally cockblocked me.”
I lean in. “Oh, did I? I didn’t know middle-aged, married bald men who talk about video games were your thing now,” I smile.
She laughs, then sighs dramatically, pretending to cry. “It’s like you don’t even know me anymore!”
I throw my head back in laughter. Clarissa always puts a smile on my face.
“Anyways, what are you doing at the bar alone?”
She looks at her phone, checking the time. “I’m meeting my friend here, but she’s late. Thanks for saving me.”
“Don’t mention it. Uh, someone is calling me at the other end of the bar.” I head to the other side of the bar and pour a Mojito.
I catch her smiling at me from the other end of the bar.
I can’t consider hooking up with Clarissa.
It would break rule number two and we’ve just got too much working against us.
She is a Harvard girl and I’m the bad boy with enough tattoos to open up my own tattoo shop.
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