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Chapter Eight
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The bar is pretty busy for a Saturday night without a band. The regulars are all here, as well as some fresh young faces that scream Christmas break. As the first Saturday of December, things have started to pick up as college kids come back home the closer we get to the holiday.
Mom’s hours picked up too, which I’m grateful for. She needs the distraction, but most of all she needs to feel like she’s contributing. The income from my second job at Lucky’s, as well as part of it from my full-time gig at Stapleton’s, goes to fix the damage her douchebag ex-husband has caused. No, I’d never say anything about him to the boys, but I’ve been tempted a time or two. Especially when they complain about missing him.
But the boys are too young to know what he did. They don’t need me to spill the gory details of his addictions, tainting the few memories they have of him. That’s why I keep my thoughts to myself. As hard as it is, especially in light of it jacking up my life too, I don’t say a word in front of Jeff and Jack.
Enough damage has been done.
Speaking of damage, have I mentioned the destruction my sexpot little neighbor did on my brain? My little vixen swooped in with her tantalizing eyes and her must-have-her-now body and turned my world upside down when I wasn’t looking. Just from one kiss, I’m left reliving every moment I was in her presence last weekend; I left with a boner that wouldn’t quit and a dirty mind that wouldn’t let me rest.
No, I haven’t seen her since she left me standing in the hallway after the kiss to end all kisses. I had to go home and jack off just to get a moment’s reprieve from the memory, and even then, she invaded my dreams like she was on the frontline in an active war zone. I remember the way her skilled mouth molded to mine, and then I picture how it would feel if that sexy little mouth of hers went down on me. Over and over again, I imagine what it would be like if I wouldn’t have stopped that kiss.
And now I’m sporting a chubby behind the bar with a dozen dudes sitting on the stools.
Fucking awesome.
The knuckleheads wanted me to invite her over both nights they stayed with me. It was difficult not to go next door and drag her over to my place, kicking and screaming. And if I know my little firecracker at all, I know she loves to challenge me. The boys, on the other hand, adore her, and they only spent a few hours in her presence. Does that say something about her voodoo magical powers? I’ve heard all about the supernatural powers of the pussy before, but I never felt the effects until recently.
And I haven’t even dipped my cup in the Kool-Aid.
That’s what I’m talking about. She’s completely entranced me with her witch powers and I didn’t see it coming. My brothers would rather spend time with her (because she dies better than I do by their swords – their words, not mine) than me, and it’s starting to piss me off a little. We used to be fine, just the three of us dudes, but suddenly, it’s all “Lexi this” and “Lexi that.” They ask about her all the time, pretending she’s part of the games they play, and say goodnight to her through the wall.
We’re all basically fucked.
I grab the glasses on the bar and top them off with more water. Levi and the other two guys to my left I’ve seen here before, but I wouldn’t call them regulars. In fact, if you take into consideration the way they all watch the girls in back like hawks, I’d say the two I don’t know are the other halves to some of Lexi’s sisters.
Speaking of Lexi, I don’t see her.
As soon as the girls came in, my heart kicked up a few beats in anticipation of getting to see her. Unfortunately, she’s not here, but all five of her sisters are. When they first arrived and saw me behind the counter, there was a mix of embarrassment and shyness written all over their faces. It’s like when you run into a one-night stand after a few weeks, and you don’t know what to say. Yeah, they saw me half naked. Yeah, they witnessed me bumping and grinding on their sister. Yeah, their grandma might have felt me up.
Not wanting them to feel uncomfortable, I throw them a wave and smile and keep my customers happy behind the bar. Since they arrived two hours ago, they’re playing pool in the back, drinking draft beer, and carrying on like lunatics, while the three sharks at the bar (who only arrived about twenty minutes ago) make sure every dick in the joint knows to stay the hell away from them.
I like these guys, and I don’t even really know them.
Then the door blows open and the star of my late night fantasies walks in. Like a vision straight out of a magazine, she’s wearing a tight black sweater and boner-inducing red skinny jeans with these little black heels that turn every head in the joint. One of the guys in front of me turns my way, grinning like a loon, making me realize that my growl was actually done out loud.
I try to return my focus to the guys at the opposite end of the bar, but it’s fruitless. My eyes–completely on their own, mind you–zero back in on long brown hair and sparkling green eyes. She’s smiling brightly, a folder of papers in her hand, while she talks animatedly to her sisters.
Maybe it’s her divorce papers? I mean, a guy can only hope, right?
Lexi sets the folder down on their table and grabs a cue stick. My cock jumps in my pants as I watch how masterfully she slides her chalked up thumb and pointer finger along the slick, hard wood. Her twin racks the balls as Lexi leans over the table and takes aim at the triangle. As soon as her sister is out of the way, she fires a shot straight into the cluster, sending them shooting down the table, sinking two solids into the holes.
Damn, my little firecracker can play.
Completely ignoring my customers, I watch her line up her next shot, bend over the table, and tap the cue ball. It moves fluidly towards the four and taps it softly, the angle perfectly knocking the ball into the side pocket. She moves around to the other side of the table and lines up her next shot. It’s a hard angle that will have to be kissed just right to get around a striped ball almost in the way. I hold my breath as she takes aim and fires the cue ball into the six, which barely misses the obstructing striped ball, before sinking into the corner pocket.
She celebrates her sinking the difficult shot with a little shimmy and a shake that does nothing to help relieve the tightness in my pants. Sensing my eyes on her, she glances up at me, a wide smile on her gorgeous face, and winks at me. Fucking winks.
I think I’m in love.
The glass I didn’t realize I’m holding shatters when it hits the old tile floor, pulling my attention away from the woman who seems to monopolize so much of it lately. Grabbing the broom, I sweep up the broken pieces and dump them into the trash before grabbing a new glass. I have work to do, and I’m not getting any of it done with her here.
Typical.
“I’m afraid you have it bad,” the man at the end of the bar says. He’s wearing a pressed button-down shirt, glasses, and a friendly smile.
