"Nah,” she said, waving me away, “I'm not hungry. I just want to spend the evening with Charlie Daniels."
"Charlie Daniels? The country music singer?” I asked.
"I mean Jack Daniels.” She hugged her glass. “My three best friends, Jack Daniels, Jim Beam, and Jose Quarvo."
I chuckled to myself. I could see that I was going to have to pour her into a cab before the night was over.
* * * *
I waited on other customers, but kept an eye on her. She was an attractive woman, and several men hit on her during the evening, but they struck out. All she wanted to do was to drink and forget whatshisname.
"Hey, bartender,” she called, motioning for me to come to her.
"Yes ma'am?” I asked.
"I think my glass has a leak in it. It's empty again."
"Hmm, maybe we could stop the leak with these pretzels,” I told her.
She looked at the bowl of pretzels and smiled at me.
"You're trying to keep me from getting drunk."
"Yes ma'am."
She sat back and looked me over for a moment.
"You know,” she summarized, “you're kind of cute. I like big guys. How tall are you?"
"Six foot seven inches."
A sly grin crossed her face.
"Let's forget about the six foot and talk about the seven inches,” she quoted Mae West.
I laughed. She had a delightful sense of humor.
"Jeez, you should be a wrestler,” she commented.
I laughed again.
"No, I'm not the violent type."
She reached over the counter and grabbed my left bicep.
"My god, your arms are as big as my legs."
Her hand was warm and I could feel a slight stirring in my groin. I shook it off quickly and tried to remain professional.
"Having a little muscle comes in handy when throwing out the obnoxious drunks,” I told her.
She put her hand down and looked solemn.
"Am I being an obnoxious drunk?” she asked.
I shook my head.
"No, you are being a delightful drunk."
She grinned.
"So, what's your name, Paul Bunyan?"
I chuckled at her jesting of my size.
"Jerry,” I told her.
She reached over the counter to shake my hand, and then popped another pretzel in her mouth.
"It's nice to meet you, Jerry,” she said, “I'm Renee."
"Nice to meet you too, Renee. Now, can I get you some coffee?"
The corner of her mouth turned up and she pushed the empty glass away.
"Yeah, black with a little cream."
"Coming up."
I handed her the cup of coffee and pulled a stool up behind the bar. The locals had begun to leave and the place was beginning to empty out, so I could take a little time with my new friend. She wasn't a beauty contest winner by any means, but she was attractive and listened contentedly as I told her my life's story.
"You know,” I told her, “being a bartender, I'm a pretty good listener."
"I wouldn't want to bore you."
I looked around. There were only three other people in the place and two of them had passed out. I'd already called them a cab.
"Well, if you don't talk to me, I'm going to fall asleep and then I'll get fired. You don't want that on your conscience, do you?"
A slight smile curled at the left side of her lip.
"No, I wouldn't want that to happen."
"Good, so tell me why this Jeff person is such an asshole."
She sipped her coffee, then put the cup down and ran her finger around the rim.
"What can I tell you?” she began, “he ran around on me, gambled, ran up my credit cards, and just as we were going to get married, he told me that he had found another woman."
I made a sour face.
"Ouch. So why did you stay with him?"
"Stupidity probably,” she laughed, “I thought he would change."
I spent the majority of the evening with Renee. We ended up in a booth after closing and she told me how she had even moved here to follow the jerk because he was in the service. She moved her hands a lot when she talked and I watched them carefully. They were long and tapered and I could picture her soft hands doing some sort of office work. I could also picture her soft hands on my body. A tingle was starting between my legs.
"May I have another?” she asked.
"Huh?"
Ok, it wasn't my greatest line.
"Coffee. May I have another?"
"Oh yeah, sure."
Before I could get up, she rose from the booth, walked over to the counter, and reached over the bar to pour another cup of java. When she came back, I was smiling.
"What are you grinning at?” she asked as she sat down.
"You,” I replied. “You're a nice lady."
She tossed her dark hair back over her shoulder and gave me her best pout.
"I'm no lady. Especially staying with an asshole like I did."
"Well, I think you're a lady. We don't think so straight when we think we're in love,” I said kindly. A little more mischievous grin over took my face as I continued. “And besides, I was watching you when you leaned over to get the coffee. You've got a nice ass."
"Jerry,” she scolded playfully, “you shouldn't be looking at my ass yet. We just met."
"I know,” I chuckled, “but my eyes are just drawn to a nice bottom. I hope you don't mind."
"I would mind if you hadn't noticed,” she giggled.
At three o'clock, we decided to call it a night and made a date for dinner for the next evening. She was a delightful lady, and I wanted to show her what a true gentleman could be like.
As I walked her to her car, a man stepped out of the shadows and stood between her vehicle and us.
"What are you doing here, bitch?” he snarled.
"J ... Jeff!” she squealed, “What are you doing here?"
"Looking for you. What the hell are you doing here? Why aren't you at home?"
His words were a bit slurred and I knew he had been drinking. Renee stood her ground.
"You left, remember? We aren't together anymore."
"Who says we aren't together anymore?” he yelled. “Get your fat ass back to the house before I slap the shit out of you."
I could feel my blood beginning to boil, but I kept my cool.
"Look, buddy,” I told him, “there's no need to talk to the lady like that. Why don't you come inside? I'll get you a cup of coffee and call you a cab."
He looked at me as if he was seeing me for the first time.
"Who the fuck are you?” he shouted. “This is none of your fuckin’ business. Get out of my way!"
He put his hand on me to shove me away, but his push didn't even budge me. He looked up at me again. He looked to be about five foot nine and a bit underweight, and I knew that I could take him, but I didn't want any trouble.
"The lady obviously doesn't want you around,” I told him, “so why don't you leave?"
He took a step back and turned his attention to Renee again.
"I told you to get your ass back to the house!” he slurred.
"It's not your house, Jeff,” she told him, “it's mine, and I've had the locks changed so you can't get in. Your stuff is on the curb."
Hearing this information infuriated him and he slapped her across the face. She quickly grabbed her cheek and I pushed him back against the car.
"Don't ever touch her again!” I told him.
I drew my arm back to punch him in the nose, but before I could swing a fist, she stepped in front of me and punched him herself. As he sat sprawled on the ground holding his bleeding nose, she began ranting.
"You son of a bitch!” she screamed. “You lied to me, you cheated on me, you spent all my money! I loved you! I wanted to marry you! And now you think we should go back to my house together?! Forget it! You're a sorry excuse for a man!"
"Please, baby,” he began to gro
vel as he got up on his knees. “I still love you. I want us to be together. Please, can't we kiss and make up?"
She looked at me, smiled, turned around, bent over, then put her finger on her bottom and made a hot, hissing sound, as if her tush was too hot to handle.
"Kiss this,” she said.
I grinned at her as she smiled back over her shoulder, and decided that he should do just that. Grabbing him by the collar, I hauled him over to her on his knees.
"Kiss it,” I told him.
He looked up at me.
"You ... You've got to be kidding?” he stuttered.
I raised an eyebrow.
"Do I look like I'm kidding?"
He swallowed a lump in his throat and leaned forward to kiss the back of her skirt.
"Not good enough,” she said, “Push my skirt up."
I grinned. She was having fun with this. I twisted his collar so that he felt a little pressure on the back of his neck, and he looked up at me.
"Do what the lady says,” I told him.
He lifted her skirt and lightly kissed the back of her pink panties.
"Did I say ‘kiss my panties'?” she asked, “I said “kiss this” meaning my ass, so do it."
He swallowed again, and then lowered her panties, exposing her bare bottom to both his and my eyes. My cock stirred in my jeans and it took everything I had to keep my hands off of her.
"Kiss it,” she demanded.
He began planting his lips all over her bottom, kept there mostly by my hand on the back of his head. When she was satisfied with what he had done, she stood up and turned around.
"Now, you asshole,” she said sharply, “get out of my sight or I'll turn my bodyguard loose on you."
"Yes, Renee,” he said weakly as he stood up. “I'll miss you."
"Yeah yeah,” she replied nonchalantly, waving him off, “take a hike."
As he wandered off into the darkness, I opened the door to the back seat of her car.
"Sit down, please,” I told her, “I want to get some ice for your cheek."
She got in, but slid across the seat and pulled me to her.
"My cheek is fine,” she said, “but I have something else that needs attention."
Taking my hand, she put it between her legs. Her cunt was as hot as my cock was hard.
"Oh my, Miss Renee,” I chuckled, “what a wet little pussy you have."
"Yes it is,” she giggled, “and I have an idea."
"What's that, pretty lady?” I asked.
She grabbed a handful of my hair and gently pulled my face to her crotch.
"Why don't you kiss this?"
I hummed my approval as I buried my tongue in her pussy. I thought she would never ask.
[Back to Table of Contents]
THE GREAT KISS DEBATE
"Men kiss better than women,” Stephen said as he puffed his chest out and tried to look intimidating.
"Are you crazy?” Caren argued, “women kiss much better than men do."
"Women have those feather-like kisses,” Harvey added. “They're too soft. It tickles my moustache."
"Speaking of moustaches,” I chimed in, “who wants to get all that hair in their mouth when they kiss?"
"I think that's another topic for discussion, Dena,” Stephen replied with a chuckled.
Caren smacked him in the shoulder with an open hand.
"Get your mind out of the gutter! We were talking about kissing."
I giggled.
"You guys think that just because you stuff your tongues down our throats and we make those moaning sounds that we are enjoying it. We're not enjoying that! We're trying to get air!"
"Yeah,” Caren quipped, “you say that we kiss to soft but guys kiss way too hard."
The commotion outside her office concerned the boss, so she opened her door and came out.
"What's going on?” Marsha asked.
"Sorry, boss,” Caren said, “we didn't mean to disturb you. We're just having a discussion and it got a little heated."
"What's the discussion about?” she asked.
"Kissing."
She raised a curious eyebrow. “Excuse me?"
"We were discussing who the better kissers are ... men or women,” Harvey told her.
"And what was the conclusion?” she asked with a chuckle.
"No conclusion yet,” I said. “It's a tie and we don't know how to break it."
"I have an idea,” Marsha stated.
Her employees all looked at her and waited for her to continue.
"Why don't we meet at The Ale Loft after work, have a drink, and do a little experiment?"
"What kind of experiment?” Harvey asked.
"We'll have a kissing contest."
Harvey, Stephen, Caren and I smiled at each other and agreed.
* * * *
That afternoon at quitting time, the five of us struck out for The Ale Loft, a popular after-work watering hole. Stephen got there first and got us a table.
"So you see,” said Harvey after the second round of beers, “that is why men are better kissers."
Caren rolled her eyes.
"Harvey, you're drunk."
He grinned.
"Not yet. Maybe one more beer."
Caren turned to Marsha.
"So what did you have in mind for a kissing contest?"
"Well,” Marsha said, “not counting me, I have two men and two women here. I think the four of you should kiss me and let me decide."
"That's not fair,” Stephen whined. “You're a woman so you'll say the women kissed better."
"I won't know who is kissing me,” Marsha stated, “if I am blindfolded."
She took one last sip of her beer, took the scarf from around her neck, and put if over her eyes. As she secured it around the back of her head, she chuckled.
"Ok, now you four have to decide who will be first."
Caren and I looked at each other.
"I've never kissed another woman,” Caren whispered, “have you?"
I didn't want to admit, that being bi-sexual, I had kissed quite a few women, so I just shook my head.
"No, but we have to do a good job, since the guys keep thinking they're the best."
Caren nodded her head.
"You're right. It's for all woman-kind everywhere."
I smiled. Caren had definitely had a little too much to drink.
"All right, who's going to be first?” Marsha asked.
Stephen stepped up to the plate, motioning to us that he would go first. He leaned forward and quickly laid a heavy-mouthed kiss on his employer, and then stood back and grinned. Marsha pressed her lips together in an attempt to realign her teeth, and then smiled.
"Next."
Caren stepped up next, but just as she was about to give the boss a lip lock, modesty took over and she only gave her a quick peck. Caren timidly stepped back and blushed. Marsha sighed and called for the next one.
Stephen saddled up to her, put his hands on each side of her head, pulled her face to his, and put a hard mouth fuck on her. As he stepped back, he smiled, knowing that he had won for his gender.
Marsha took a deep breath and wiped the drool off her chin.
"Ok, let's get this over with,” she said.
It was my turn.
I remembered the way my last female lover had kissed me ... softly ... tenderly ... yet passionately, and I wanted to recreate that with Marsha. I moved just to the side of her, then put my fingertips under her chin and gently turned her face to mine. She opened her mouth to speak, but as she did, I pressed my lips against hers and kissed her.
It was perfect.
I slid just the tip of my tongue between her lips, and as I did, I could hear her moan. She lifted her hands to touch me, but knew she couldn't, since that would be against the rules and give away who was kissing her, so dropped them by her side and surrendered to the passion she was feeling.
Kissing Marsha made me remember a quote I had once read by English author D. H
. Lawrence...
"She lifted her face suddenly to him, and he touched it with his lips. So cold, so fresh, so sea-clear her face was, it was like kissing a flower that grows near the surf."
Except that there wasn't a “he” kissing her ... it was me. I inhaled her breath and I could smell the cinnamon mint that she had popped into her mouth just before we began the kissing contest. Our lips were slick with passion and her tongue bashfully eased in between my lips, as if she was afraid I would be offended by the felony of her tongue touching mine. When I didn't push away, she gave me more. I sucked on it gently, neither wishing to do it harm nor wanting her to try to force it down my throat like most men that I knew tried to do. Our tongues waltzed together in perfect synchronization for a moment, and when I finally pulled my lips away, I heard her whisper, “Damn."
I opened my eyes and looked around, and for the first time, I realized that the music had stopped, the conversations had paused, the bar noise had discontinued, and no one was eating. Every eye in the place was on us. Most of the men had erections, including the two that were with our party, and most of the women had looks on their faces like they would like to be in our shoes.
Marsha took the blindfold off and smiled at me.
"The women win."
There was a round of applause throughout the house and then several people, including women, came up to our table, apparently wanting their turn at the kissing contest.
"Can I be next?” one gentleman asked.
"You want to be blindfolded and have my four employees kiss you?” Marsha asked.
"Naw,” he said with a grin and then pointed to me, “just her."
"Maybe we should open up a kissing booth and charge admission,” Stephen chuckled as he winked at me.
I smiled and felt my face turning a bright pink.
"Only,” the man said, “if this little lady is your only attraction. Hell, I'd pay to watch her kiss anyone!"
[Back to Table of Contents]
THE CARPET CLEANER
My name is Mark and I'm a carpet cleaner by trade. I've had this job for six years and I've always enjoyed it, but you would be amazed at some of the things I see in people's homes. Most times, it's just pet stains, traffic dirt, you know, things like that, but once in a while ... well, I'll let you be the judge.
Take the house on Mockingbird Lane. I'll call the owner “Jane", since I don't want to offend anyone. Jane is a dark-haired, middle-aged, large-breasted wife of a career Navy man, and whenever he is gone to serve our country, Jane calls me to come clean her carpet. Actually, the only carpet she ever wanted cleaned was the one in the bedroom. This is what happened every time I went there.
Her Next Victim and Other Stories Page 3