The Librarian and the Bartender, Part two

Introduction: This is part two of my story… it can stand on its own, but I hope you enjoy if enough to go read part one as well! I’m reposting this because, for some insane reason, the last time I posted it, it got voted down ridiculously fast and ended up at the bottom of the barrel where nobody read it. I don’t care so much if my work gets negative votes when it deserves it, but I felt my story deserves a second chance. I hope you enjoy it, and that it doesn’t get negative attention from a bunch of socks again. Would love to hear your comments and thoughts on it.







Somebody had paid for a Carrie Underwood song on the jukebox in the back corner, causing a few girls in cowboy hats at the nearest booth to scream ‘whoo!’ and shoot their fists into the air, signalling their pleasure and desire for another round of shots. Some of the men watched them with drunken grins, appreciating the slutty cowgirl getups and clear willingness to go to bed, a bathroom stall or the backseat of any random guy’s car.


The bar was full – nothing like the evening before a national holiday to get drunk – and the staff had their hands full, trying to deliver the right drinks to the right table. At the bar Brandon was busy mixing fruity drinks for what was clearly a group of sorority girls hell-bent on going wild. As Carrie beat up her boyfriend’s pretty little souped-up four-wheel-drive, he added the requisite cocktail umbrellas his nieces always wanted when they played with their Barbies.
Who said girls ever grew up?


One of the waiters whisked the tray away and left him to deal with more hard-core drinkers – beer, beer, rum and coke, beer, some shots of tequila, beer…
It was one of those moments where everything seemed to fall in place – the music ended and there was no new song yet, so a silence settled over the bar for a heartbeat, just as the door opened, letting in a rush of wind and a few lost raindrops. The girl stepped inside, clearly enjoying the spotlight of the moment as every male eye in the bar was fixed on her. She looked around leisurely as she started to work on the buttons of her black coat, undoing each one slowly and with a knowing little smile, making it look like a very public striptease. She moved her shoulders sensually to let the coat slide from her shoulders, reminding Brandon of a girl in a silky nightgown, seducing her boyfriend in the bedroom. Her gaze lingered on Brandon for a few seconds while the attendant at the coatrack took her coat and handed her a ticket.
Brandon felt the heat of her eyes burn through his body, and swallowed a little uncomfortably. The girl was hotter than that any chilli he had ever tasted and he knew his girlfriend would not approve of the fantasies running through his mind at that second.
The newcomer made her way over to the bar, ignoring the men who shifted their bodies to brush up against her as she slid past them on black fuck-me-senseless heels. The elevation of the shoes was doing the most interesting things to her legs, making them seem as if they just went on forever. Her dress – if you could call that excuse for an outfit a dress – was a lace and leather orgasm waiting to happen, held together by silky strings Brandon could imagine undoing with his teeth. It ended just south of respectable, and dipped so low in the front a good jiggle would probably shake the precarious hold it had on her boobs and dislodge one of them.
Brandon wanted to jiggle her.


And it wasn’t just her clothes. She had a face and the body to match his every wet dream. Silky, dark brown curls brushing down her back, blue eyes that portrayed a vulnerability completely at odds with her sin-on-heels outfit. Her mouth was full and plump and looked like a vodka-soaked cherry that needed to be licked and sucked and nibbled on. She had painted it wine-red and it glimmered wetly in the low lighting, begging to be kissed. Brandon stared down the college boy who worked behind the bar part-time as the kid hurried to serve her.
“What can I get you?” he asked as she slipped one hip onto the high barstool, crossing her legs and letting one of the strappy heels dangle of her foot. Her tongue shot out and tasted the edge of her upper lip. His eyes followed the movement, almost hypnotized by the small pink movement, reminding him of another pink little female nub he liked to suck on.


“What do you have that’s good?” she asked, her fingers touching the edge of the bodice of her dress seductively.
“How about a martini?” he asked, his eyes trying their best to untie that string that held together her dress at the front.
“No,” she said, simply.
“Sex on the beach?”
She lifted one sexy eyebrow. “We’re a little far from the beach, don’t you think?”
“A screaming orgasm, then,” he said, getting very obvious in this game of seduction they were playing.
She leaned forward, getting perilously close to showing him her nipples.
“I’ll have one of those,” she said, “and take an IOU.”
“First one’s on the house,’ he said huskily, “but you can open a tab for those IOU’s.”
She smiled, a cat-in-the-birdhouse smile that played havoc on his hormones.
He compared her to his girlfriend as he turned to start mixing the drink and felt a stab of shame and guilt. Emily was a librarian; a mousey girl with dowdy glasses and a sweet personality. This vixen behind the bar was his every fantasy come to life. And he was going to screw her before he went home to the girl he planned to ask to marry him.
One last fling, he told himself as he added the Bailey’s to the vodka over the crushed ice. He opened a new bottle of Kahlua and added it, stirring the glass before setting it down in front of her. One last wild thing before I settle down, become a respectable white-picket-fence husband, and start mowing the lawn on Saturdays.
The thought was almost depressing, but he knew it was time to move on from bachelor life and Emily was the perfect girl to marry. He even loved her, which made the whole deal seem worthwhile.


“What do you think?” he asked as she lifted the glass to her lips. She took a sip and her tongue tasted a drop that was left behind on her bottom lip.
“Not bad,’ she said. “Not bad at all, barman. Got any other surprises for me?”
“Sure do. Just come round back and step into my office for a minute or so.”
Ignoring the looks of his staff as he abandoned them to the crush of too many customers, he lifted the counter for her to follow him behind the bar. His hand low on her back, he guided her into the back of the building, to the room that housed his office. There was a solid wooden desk with a chair on each side and a computer stand on the other side. He closed and locked the door behind him and stood with his hands in his pockets as she surveyed the room.
“I don’t see any hidden cameras,” she said, sounding almost disappointed.
His eyebrows shot into the air. “You want to be caught on camera?”
“Of course not,” she said, letting her handbag drop negligently on the couch that was stacked with papers and the other debris of running a business. “I can’t afford any blackmail material. I have a very, very possessive boyfriend.”
Her fingers stroked down his chest as she spoke, and he shifted his body to get a little closer to her. “He would kill you if he knew about tonight.”
Brandon’s eyebrows lifted a fraction of an inch.
“Tough guy?”
“The toughest,” she purred as she started undoing the buttons on his white shirt. “Big, scary guy.”
“Are you trying to make me jealous?” he asked as his hands found her ass and pulled her tight against him, letting him feel the hard ridge between their bodies.
“Maybe,” she said. “Is it working?”
“My girlfriend would claw your eyes out,” he whispered against her temple. “She looks tame, but she can be a real wild animal sometimes.”
“I can take her,” the girl said, smiling confidently and tipping her face up for a kiss. Brandon didn’t comply immediately, choosing to taste that spot under her ear women always ruined with perfume.
Not this one. He could taste nothing but pure, unadulterated female skin as he touched the tip of his tongue to the spot.
“No marks,” he heard her husky murmur. “My boyfriend can’t find out.”
“I’ll mark you if I want to,” he said, settling his lips tight over that sweet spot and suckling hard, drawing the blood to the surface of her perfect, unmarred skin for a proper hickey.
“You bastard,” she gasped and tried to pull away. Brandon tightened his hold and laved the bruise with his tongue before continuing down the line of her jaw. He found a little beauty spot near the corner of her mouth and played with it for a few seconds before settling his lips over hers with deliberate possession.


Mine, he thought as his hands sought out the curves of her ass and cupped them. He pulled her against him and lifted her until her feet were no longer touching the ground. She put her arms around his neck and pressed her body closer to his, her breasts pressing hot and soft against his chest. He pressed her back against the door of his office, ignoring her hiss of pain as the handle bit into her hip. She hitched her legs around his waist and he settled into the apex between her thighs like he belonged there.