It was 11:30 on Friday afternoon and I had just finished my lunch at my desk when my phone chimed. It was a text from Josh. I hadn’t heard from Josh in ages! “Look out your window” Excitedly I stood up and looked out the window of my second-floor office. Street side was Josh, legs crossed, arms folded, head cocked in that smug way only Josh could do, leaning against an electric blue Mercedes AMG GT R! ...
It was only my third night in this sleepy little town and I had already run bored with little new to do. I had only been to our Kansas office twice in the last five years for cursory check-ins but now this branch was falling apart and they sent me in for an extended stay to clean up the mess. The only place to stay within in a reasonable distance to the office was a second rate motel just outside of town. I had stayed here on my previous trips and it was certainly nothing extraordinary to write home about. Just a place to lay my head down each night with the sound of traffic buzzing on a busy street. It had been another day of pulling people into my temporary office for fact finding interviews and people assesment. The work was emotionally draining and I needed some deeper intellectual stimulation not related to my work. Most of the people in the office disliked me on account I was there to course correct their actions so I needed another outlet. Back in the room I flipped on the television and surfed the channels looking for anything of substance. Nothing captured my attention so I flipped it back off. There was a tavern a couple of blocks down I had seen, “Lucy’s” I think, so I decided to venture out in search of real people to engage with. It was a Wednesday night so as expected I was not overwhelmed when I opened the red door with “Lucy’s” in angled script painted in black on its face. Two men were playing pool and drinking beers under a single hanging bulb in the back of the room, a couple was sharing a plate of cheese deprived nachos in the front corner, an empty table with half a glass of white wine, an open book flipped upside down and a single pulled out chair was in the middle of the room and lastly a bearded biker with his head resting on his forearm and four empty shot glasses perfectly lined up in front of him was seated at the far end of the bar. A still full shot clutched in his right fist as he strummed his fingers on its side as if he were fighting the demons telling him just one more wouldn’t hurt. No one looked up as I entered. I pulled out the bar stool furthest from the biker drowning his sorrows and sat down. Not a likely candidate for intelligent conversation I thought. The bartender, a female with short dark hair medium build wearing a Lucy’s logo T-shirt, just like the front door, tied in a knot at her waist above the waistband of her jeans approached and said “Welcome to Lucy’s, stranger. What will you have?” Just as I opened my mouth to answer the man at the opposite end of the bar threw his head back and launched his waiting shot down his throat as he yelled “Arrrrgh”. He slammed his shot glass down on the bar in perfect succession with the other four and returned his head to his forearm and his now empty waiting fist to its former position as if the glass were still there. “Maybe you should take care of him first. Looks like he needs another and I don’t want to get in his way. " The bartender scoffed and told me that “Butch” would be fine as long as she had another shot in his waiting fist by the half hour mark as she pointed to the clock behind her head. Six was usually his limit on exact fifteen minute intervals. “OCD” she whispered with the back of her hand up to her cheek as if to sheild her whisper from his ears. “Bourbon on the rocks then. And I’ll try to pace myself so you don’t wind up with bookends at your bar keeping your remaining stools empty the rest of the night.” “Go wild sweetie! Don’t hold back on my account” she said as she added two bar straws to my drink and handed it to me. I took the drink and thanked her. I had noticed movement in the bar in my peripheral vision and rotated my stool around to again survey the place without much hope of finding anyone to talk to based on my initial surveyance. I brought my forward face to the television hanging in the corner switched to ESPN as to not be so obvious. A woman had returned from presumably the bathroom to the waiting wine glass and book at the empty table. Early forties, died red short bobbed hair with a highlighted streak, thin build and a nice smile. This I saw when she looked in my direction and saw that I was looking in hers as she sat. After I smiled back I casually brought my eyes back to todays sports highlights and duefully nursed my bourbon. The woman picked up her book and continued reading as she drank the rest of her wine between pages occasionally glancing towards the bar. What type of a woman goes to a bar to read I asked myself. “One that is looking to meet someone” I rhetorically answered. So I decided she was my best shot at any sort of intelligent conversation in this place. No one else had come in. I finished my drink and swiveled back to face the bar. The bartender had been directly behind me so I said “Maybe I will go wild. Another bourbon and a glass of Chardonnay please.” I got a surprised look from her but no response outside of a smirk and a nod. She served the drinks and I stood to approach the lone woman with drinks in hand. “Hi, mind if I join you with a hospitality offering?” “Oh! …please” she said. I sat, introduced myself and struck up conversation. A few minutes in and “Arrrrrrgh” from the bar and the sound of the shot glass slamming into the worn mahogany of the bar. I looked at my watch. Half past on the nose I noticed. The conversation was great and we were both laughing a lot. There was definitely chemistry happening between us. I had lost track of time but the man at the bar had not moved an inch and three others were now seated where I had been at the farther end, the nacho couple were now throwing darts and three new men were playing pool in the back and another three were seated at a table nearby. The bartender came over and stood next to Amy. “Hi Amy. Sounds like you guys are having a lot of fun over here? I’m on a break and was curious if I could get in on Mr. Bourbon’s hilarity for a bit? Does Mr. Bourbon have a name?” “Oh, hi Lucy.” said Amy as she looked up at her. “Sure, have a seat. Mr. Bourbon’s name is Christopher. Chris is in from Atlanta on a business trip and is staying at “The Shady Lady” for a month. He is going stir crazy and needs some intellectual release before he goes mad. He is very funny.” “Lucy, nice to officially meet you” I said as I stood and extended my hand for a shake. “I had no idea you were the name sake on the building?” ...
Good morning babe! Watcha doin? Hiya Sexy! just laying in bed thinking about you. Watcha wearing? Yes, I still have them on.. I can’t believe it! It’s been four days! You told me not to take them off until I saw you again! Good boy. Do you like the way they feel as much as you thought you might? What I said was I didn’t think it was fair that girls underwear was made of sexier fabrics than boys. I didn’t say I wanted to wear girls underwear. ...
Story entry in the 2011 Winter Fetish Stories Contest When Miss Stone moved in next door I had no idea my life was about to change. It was my senior year of High School and I had no intentions of going college. I had little motivation and little direction. I lived with my dad who traveled a lot so I pretty much got to do what I wanted as long as I kept up with the basic chores he asked me to do. It was summer, I was wayward, and I liked it. ...
This story was an entry into the 2011 Winter Fetish Story Contest When Miss Stone moved in next door I had no idea my life was about to change. It was my senior year of High School and I had no intentions of going college. I had little motivation and little direction. I lived with my dad who traveled a lot so I pretty much got to do what I wanted as long as I kept up with the basic chores he asked me to do. It was summer, I was wayward, and I liked it. ...