William had his secrets. I have mine, and now I’m beginning to wonder about Boxer and why he lives here. Maybe this is why the town’s people keep their noses out of each other’s business.
No point stirring the wasp nest.
The bar is empty, so I quickly sweep up then go on out back.
I’ve just walked into the bar and I’m in need of a piss, so I follow the restroom sign and notice along the way how empty the bar is, while the jukebox has some romantic country song wailing out of it. I could have relieved myself on my father’s land, but even my piss was too good to be spilled on something he had owned.
I’ve taken care of business, ready for a beer, when I hear barely audible feminine grunts followed by smacking noises coming from up the stairs.
Call me curious.
I quietly climb the stairs, noting the Private: Staff Only sign nailed to the beam above my head, ignoring it as I walk toward the sounds, when I see her in a back room, punching a heavy bag in painted on, ass-hugging, little black workout shorts. I’m amused at first. My thoughts of revenge falling to second place as I cross my arms over my chest, propping myself up against the doorjamb while I watch her smack the bag with her toned arms as she makes those soft little grunts.
She has no idea I’m standing here observing her. I should walk away, but the more I stand here watching her, the more I can’t take my eyes off her. She sure is a looker.
This female is so determined to break her thumbs that I have to step in and save them. She is lean, but she still has nice curves, like a slow-winding country road travelling up her body. Her tight, rounded globes have my dick’s attention as she swings around the bag, concentrating so hard that she doesn’t notice me, sweat dripping off her pretty face, determination written all over it.
I decide then and there I want to get to know her tonight. I have seen that look. That’s the look of somebody who’s working off stress…or working off somebody.
She is quick on her feet, but she is holding her hands wrong. She doesn’t even have them strapped. She looks like she walked in and just needed to start hitting something. Her tits are a good handful, and her tight black workout top holds them secure. Her long brown hair is pulled back into a ponytail, perfect for grabbing onto, and she has these big, chocolate brown eyes a man could drown in while he fucks her senseless.
She is light on her feet as she rotates around again, jabbing at the bag with her back to me. In my current status of good-guy-civilian, I have to help her out.
I walk up to her and lay my hands on either side of her shoulders to calm her movements. She stops with a gasp, her body stiffening. I watch her reaction time. It’s slow as her mind works on what to do next. She needs to get a little quicker with that.
Then it comes.
I’m ready.
She swings around, ready to shove her palm straight up into my nose, hoping to buy herself some time as she flees for help.
Somebody has been taking self-defense lessons. I actually find myself liking the fact that she has some knowledge about how to protect herself.
I dodge her predictable defensive response to my invasion of her space. Her palm goes flying through the air, hitting nothing. I twist her back around, keeping her arms locked down tight, and her back to my chest. “We can do this all night if you like, but I’m not here to hurt you. I came in for a beer and to take a piss. I’ve been on the road the last few days. If you’ll calm down, I’ll release you.”
She thinks about my words and my actions and does as she’s told. She’s naïve, but I won’t tell her that. Before I fully release her, I move my hands over hers and reposition her thumbs for her. “Like this.” I soften my deep, rough, gravelly voice because I can be very intimidating when I want to be. “Little lady, I was just gonna tell you you’re gonna break those thumbs the way you are hitting that bag.” From her body language, I can see intimidation will get me nowhere. I need to behave like a civil gentleman, and not who I really am.
“You’re not thinking about the care of your hands before you beat the heavy bag senseless because your mind is elsewhere.” She’s all kinds of frazzled about something, and this is an impulsive thing to do. She might have started out with good intentions, putting her workout gear on, but then it escalated to, ‘Fuck my hands. I need to hit something, pronto’.
I fully release her and she immediately takes a step away from me, twisting around to take in who was touching her, who has invaded her private workout. Her eyes widen in surprise as she looks me up and down quickly. They don’t linger too long. She just needed to assess me for any danger.
Smart girl.
All she sees standing before her is a clean-cut American guy. She would have given me a different look had she seen me in my cut, but for some reason, I don’t think it would have necessarily impressed her. There are the chicks who would fear us, and then there are the chicks who can’t wait to get in our pants. I’m not a hundred percent sure which category she was in at the moment.
I look her in the eyes. “I can tell this isn’t your first time at the bag. You’ve let yourself get distracted, little lady.”
“Thank you,” she whispers to me. “You are right. I am distracted. I wasn’t thinking clearly.” Her eyes are now downcast and darting back and forth. “I’m good now, thank you. You can leave me to it.”
I sense a challenge. I saw her look of appreciation before she looked away. I never have to work hard. I get fucked with ease.
“You shouldn’t be up here. This is the private part of the bar and it’s now closed. How did you get in here?” Her voice is soft-spoken.
“The door was unlocked and the jukebox was wailing. Also, it’s only just eight o’clock. I needed a beer. What bar shuts at eight o’clock?”
“This bar,” she mumbles. She slowly looks up when I don’t respond to her two words, and then her eyes roam all over my body...again.
I’m neatly dressed and my hair is freshly cut. I’m wearing designer jeans, a checkered button up, and a leather jacket. I stopped off in New Orleans to get myself some civvies to wear on the way over. My cut is rolled up in my saddle bag on my bike.
I usually look dangerous and intimidating, but tonight, I need to be somebody else less threatening. I also need to be anonymous in this town, just a guy wanting a beer, passing on through.
Tonight, I’m nothing more than your average Joe Blow.
“Are you in charge of the bar?” I can’t sense anybody else around.
“Not normally, but for now, yes.”
She’s deciding if she will allow me a drink. I know I look tired, and now I’m all kinds of sexually frustrated, since I’ve laid eyes on this female.
“If you want a beer, I can get you one.” She’s too trusting, but I won’t knock her back. I really could do with a beer.
This new hair cut is hanging in my face, and it works to my advantage, making me look younger. I scoop it up and over my head and give her a little smile. “You look like you need a break. Can I buy you a drink?” I’m all for smooth talking her to get what I want.
I can see her weighing up whether to let me buy her a drink. Interesting, she’s making me work for it. I’m all for a challenge. She just made herself that little bit more of a game to me, so I offer up more information. “I’m just in town to visit family and decided to stop on by for a couple drinks before I head on over.” A little white lie, but I can see I have to pull some half-truths here to get this one to take the bait.