At Wits End

Leslie worked at a pub called Wits End. Shannon drove us there without getting us killed. At 8:30, the place wasn’t full yet. Lots of men were standing by the bar or sitting by themselves at tables. There were tall ones and short ones, young ones and old ones, muscular ones and skinny ones. Oh my. There must’ve been 20 men by themselves in that pub. I’ll have my pick tonight.

All the men turned and smiled at us when we walked in. Leslie and another waitress were working. She waved at us and pointed to a table in the corner. We went and sat down.

Leslie came over to take our order. Shannon and the others ordered two drinks each right away.

“What about you, Mindy, what’ll you have?” said Leslie.

I said, “Girls, why are you here, in this pub?”

“We came to drink,” said Molly.

“And to meet men,” said Babsy.

“Well then, why are you ordering drinks?” I said. “How will a man break the ice if he can’t buy you a drink? He won’t want to if you’ve already got a few in front of you.”

“We can drink more than one, you know,” said Babsy.

“That is just no class at all, a woman sitting there with several drinks in front of her,” I said. "You look like a cheap whore in need of a drink, not a classy woman in need of a man.”

“Oh. Okay, I’ll just have one drink, Leslie,” said Molly.

“Me too,” said Babsy.

“Well, I guess I’ll have to keep with my drinking buddies. One only for me please,” sang Shannon.

Leslie shook her head and went to get their drinks.

Over the next half hour, more people came in - women by themselves, couples, and more men. I was checking the guys out to see which ones I liked when this older man came up to me.

“Hey pretty lady, what’re you drinking?” he said. I turned and winked at the girls. “I bet you’d like a screwdriver, won’t you,” he said. He was direct, this one. And a little drunk already. He was too old for my liking, but not shabbily dressed. Travelling through likely. I didn’t want to settle for this one right away when there were so many to pick from.

Leslie came up and put a beer in front of me. She nodded at a young, muscular guy at the bar. “From your friend over there,” she said.

I turned to the older man and said, “Can I take a rain check on that drink? I’m going to say hello to my friend over there.” I picked up my drink and walked over to the bar, glad to get rid of the old codger.

Soon, I was at the bar with several guys around me and we were chatting and laughing. The band started playing so you have to shout even when you’re talking to someone right beside you. It means you have to lean real close and nuzzle someone’s ear in order to be heard.

Body language. You have to know body language when you’re man hunting. I have great body language with a tart accent. Me and these guys, we’re all hanging together because we want to see who I’ll have sex with tonight, and the ones I don’t fuck, they want to get in line for another time. See, no misunderstanding.

How do I know this? Look how I never sit up straight. I’m always draping myself on one man or the other with my arm, leg or body. And I always thrust my breasts out at whoever is in front of me. I touch the man I’m talking to - stroke his chin, arm, back, leg, or butt. Not just touch. You let your fingers linger there so they feel your heat.

My T-shirt helped too. They’re all making like they’re just following instructions to squeeze my boobs and I’m making like I don’t want them to. That way, you keep them all interested. They all stay ‘cause they want more.

Shannon gets it. See how she leans her body into that man behind her while she’s talking to that other guy? But Molly and Babsy - no one’s talking to them. They’re just hangers on to what Molly’s doing.

Things were going pretty good for me. But then that bitch Shannon stood up and walked over. Somehow she’d ditched her sweater. She was just wearing her cardigan, with the top buttons open, and she had cleavage, and her nipples showed through her cardigan. She sauntered by with one hand held up and purred, “Hello boys,” stroking every guy around me on the jaw.

All my guys, they turned their heads to watch her wiggle down the hall into the ladies room.

I struggled for words. Me, a pro at keeping men’s attention. I said, “You like that do you?”

They muttered, “Yeah, no, she’s nice, but you’re nice too”. Oh fuck off and die already.

After that, the guys got all awkward and straightened up, like they just woke up or something. One left and stood by the hall, probably to wait for fucking Shannon to come back. One just went back to his table and sat down. One ordered me a drink, then said, “Excuse me.” I never saw him again for the rest of the night. Another one stood by, all embarrassed and uncomfortable. So I sent him to sit down with the one already at the table. I needed a break from flirting. I’m not going home empty-handed tonight. I needed a new plan to snag me a man.

I hate that bitch Shannon. I went back to our table where Molly and Babsy were and sat down. All that work wasted. I am not going to give her the satisfaction of going home with anyone either. Just wait till you get back, bitch.

The old guy who wanted to buy me a screwdriver earlier came over. He said,

“Can I interest you in a dance?”

Well, why not? I didn’t want to sit there with the ding dongs. And I didn’t want Shannon to come back and see she’s crashed my party. So I got up and danced with him.

“My name is Reebus,” said the screwdriver man.

“Beavis?” I said.

“No, Reebus, Reebus,” he shouted. “You can call me Ray. You are very beautiful.”

Well now he’s talking. For an old guy, he’s got good dance moves. He’s got rhythm and seemed sure on the dance floor. He moved real close to me and push his groin into me. Wow, good equipment. Then he moved back and twirled me round and round. Somehow, I adapted my moves to his. But I made sure I brushed my breasts against his chest and arms every once in a while. I couldn’t help it. Every now and then, he touched my breasts, but ever so subtly, like it was an accident.

“We make good moves together,” Ray said.

“We’re on fire,” I said.

After about half an hour, he said,

“Would you like a drink now? A screwdriver, perhaps? Or straight to the screw?”

Oh he’s so sassy.

“Yes, all of them,” I said.

So he took my hand and led me outside. We got into his car and drive to his motel by the edge of town. We ran into his room and were almost naked before he could lock the door.

Oh my god, it was just the best fuck ever. I really wanted it. We were all over each other. Who knew an old guy like that could do it twice.

In the morning, I said,

“What’s your name again?”

“Ray.”

“You’re not from around here, are you?”

“No, I came here to see my son.”

“Where’s your son?”

“He’s about an hour away in the city.”

“What does he do?”

“I’m not sure. He’s 29 and single. He does bits of this and that to get by I think. He’s actually a resident of Wittle Lake. He’s got a room somewhere here. But he got into a bit of trouble a while ago and is spending some time in the county jail right now.”

“Did he commit a crime or something?”

“I’m not sure. I think he and some kid set fire to a solid waste sanitation truck.”

“No kidding.”

Oh Jesus Christ, I know I just fucked Ogden’s dad.