Hotel - Room 617

I was playing around and cooling off in the surf from an intense pickup beach volleyball game. It was hot as hell and there seemed to be a thousand people on the beach and in the water. In the holiday spirit most people are nice and fun to be around so I enjoy the time I spend in the Gulf waters. I swim almost every day of the year in balmy Florida, even the colder days. Plus, I get a front row seat to some of the most gorgeous bodies in existence, all clad in bathing suits, both male and female. That particular day I needed the stimulation and the camaraderie of happy vacationers. Anyone who loves the beach like I do can relate.

I felt someone bump into my legs underwater and the clumsy swimmer slowly surfaced up my legs and front, the wet form slippery against mine, a sensual feeling. Even more sensual was the face and nose that bumped into my privates that were barely concealed in my tiny AussieBum suit. I grinned as the face obviously paused at my crotch before surfacing. I felt a nose hit my package and it felt like a mouth briefly grasped at my penis. Getting hit on at the beach is not an unusual occurrence. Black hair rose out of the water before me, splashing water, and I was surprised the face with it belonged to a man. I decided perhaps it was just a coincidence.

"Sorry, I'm so sorry. I can't get used to the salt water in my eyes. It totally blinds me!"

I looked into his dancing brown eyes and knew it was no mistake.

"Think nothing of it, man. With all these people in the water, bumping into someone else is bound to happen."

"I guess I'm lucky I bumped into you. You on vacation, too?

"Not exactly."

The guy was a stud and I felt my penis stir so I started to walk out of the surf. There were little kids racing around with their families and I wasn't interested in putting on an X-rated show for them. My fully erect penis would have difficulty staying contained in my suit.

"Maybe I'll see you again," the handsome one called after me.

"Yep, you probably will."

I walked onto the beach and didn't look back. I was having a bitch of a day and wasn't really in the mood to flirt.

My ex-wife had stormed into the hotel lobby that morning demanding to see me, making a nasty scene and insisting I owed her money. I'd stopped taking her nasty phone calls where she'd threatened to embarrass me so finally she'd carried her threat out. We'd been divorced for over a year and I owed her no support. The only thing I owed her was a bullet between the eyes but since I didn't want to give her the satisfaction of putting me in prison, it really wasn't an option. We had no children and she'd left me for another man while I was serving in the army in Iraq. But she knows I work in a very public arena for a very publicity conscious organization. Expensive hotels on the beach want to attract paying guests, not run them off because their employees carry on like a bunch of Marseilles fishwives.

The man Mindy left me for did to her what she did to me. He married her, got access to her bank account and assets, and then left her. Or rather, I should say he got access to money and assets that had been mine before the courts gave it all to her. Don't think I'm mad at him. The truth is I'd shake his hand and buy his drinks for him if he ever came into the hotel bar where I'm the bartender. There's nothing more satisfying in life than actually seeing the old maxim 'what goes around, comes around' actually happening to an ex-wife. Fernando managed to get Mindy to take out a second mortgage on the house, bought some cocaine, made a down payment on a new Lexus, took out more loans, sold some cocaine, bought a 75 foot fishing boat, took out more loans, bought more cocaine, maxed out every credit card available to modern man, took out more loans, sold more of his cocaine, cleaned out their checking and savings accounts, flew to Las Vegas and blew all the money away at the blackjack table. Then Fernando used the only asset he had left. It was a one way airline ticket to fly home to Mama in Venezuela. It was justice that made my cock stand erect and dribble precum.

The assistant hotel manager swished into the bar on a busy Friday afternoon about two months later having the standard hissy fit he throws when he has to do anything other than wave his hand and say 'handle it'. He'd been looking for me for a couple of hours, time I'd spent fucking a gorgeous redhead with tits and a pussy made for sex. I can't help it. When I'm horny and I get the offer of a roll in the hay I usually take it. After all, this is a hotel, the guests rarely stay for more than a week, and there's absolutely no commitment. But Mauricio was in a panic.

Seems Mindy was burning up the hotel switchboard trying to reach me, making her usual threats about calling the newspapers, the television stations, the White House, every televangelist in the country... That's when I really knew Mindy was beyond desperate. When she's at the point of a total mental breakdown she calls on God like any good Baptist girl that grew up to be a first class whore. It's time for the televangelists to get involved.

I explained my marital situation to Mauricio as succinctly as I possibly could while I was making two Hairy Virgins. Basically, I explained, I'd been cleaned out by the fucking cunt while I was in Iraq. I told him the courts awarded her everything but my balls in the divorce settlement, that we had no children or other legally binding ties, and yes, I knew she was about to be evicted, repossessed, stripped naked, and owed over a couple million dollars she didn't know about.

I was very calm as I advised Mauricio of the personal details of my life. By then I'd progressed on to making a Slippery Nipple and you can't be nervous or hesitant with those motherfuckers. I patiently suggested Mauricio call the hotel attorneys and file a harassment complaint, get a restraining order, do something with the legal department since he obviously seemed concerned about Mindy. The only other option he might use would be to tell Mindy that I suggested she place the barrel my Magnum 44 - that she now owned - in that foul mouth of hers - filled with seventeen thousand dollars of dental work I'd paid for - and blow her brains out. Preferably after killing that wolverine mother of hers with the same gun. I almost ejaculated into my jeans as I watched Mauricio's fat ass storm out of the bar.

And then four days later Mindy slithered into the hotel lobby. While she screamed and threatened employees and guests I ducked out and walked over to the hotel next door to ours. As I left I saw Mauricio going to pieces. Sitting in the cool lobby next door I phoned my friend in the local district attorney's office, the second man with whom I'd had a sexual relationship. He was a really useful sugar daddy contact and he was in love with me. He'd come into the bar chasing after my ass from the first day I went to work for the hotel and finally I let him catch it. I fucked him every way imaginable and made a lasting friend. Sugar was happily married, the father of five adult children, a deacon in a local Baptist church, and a pillar of the community who drank like a fish. If anyone in his congregation ever saw him coming into the hotel he swore he was spreading the message of the love of god. He also loved the way I sowed my oats in his ass while he sang 'Bringing in the Sheaves'.

Within thirty minutes of my call to Sugar, Pinellas County's finest had clapped Mindy in handcuffs. As I watched the angry officers taser Mindy for attempting to pepper spray them, my cell phone rang. Sugar delivered the joyful news that Savannah law enforcement had discovered three kilos of cocaine in Mindy's makeup case. The case was in the top of the hall closet when they went to assist with her eviction from my home that the courts had given to her, the home now being seized by the bank. Plus, Mindy had driven her Lexus from Savannah to Clearwater. She'd driven that fine Lexus out of Georgia about thirty seconds before the repo guys pulled into the driveway to repossess it. Sugar's magnificent voice didn't excel only while singing hymns with my dick in his ass or convincing juries to swing the sword of justice; it also sang to law enforcement agencies in an effort to assist in placing society's trash in the appropriate receptacle. Mindy would soon be headed to the appropriate receptacle that awaited her in the Empire State of the South. In the meanwhile she'd be a guest in the Pinellas jail. And since she didn't have a pot to piss in or a window to throw it out of, it seemed my ex-wife might finally get the dose of justice that was coming to her.

So you see, I can understand why most people would think I should have been making joyful noises myself. After seeing Mindy hauled away I'd changed into my skimpiest bathing suit and had fun playing a pickup game of beach volleyball with total strangers. My quick dip in the surf had yielded the pleasant result of the clumsy swimmer and I hoped I'd see the handsome one again. As I left the beach, I decided to take a nap before my bar shift began. It was so goddamn hot the steam was coming off the cement sidewalk as I walked into the hotel from the beach. A man walked gingerly before me, his skin a fierce bright red from sunburn. He looked like an overgrown lobster, totally disgusting to me. Clearwater beach is a huge expanse of white sand that seems to reflect the sun so you're getting cooked from the sky above and the sand below. I see tourists roast themselves beyond recognition every fucking day. It's as if John Q. Tourist is determined that since he's paying a few thousand dollars a week to stay in our hotel he's going to have fun in the sun even if it kills him. Sometimes it does.

I moved past the lobster, walking barefoot on the grass along the side of the walkway, as the lobster cursed the cement and commented that you could fry an egg on it. Yep, I thought to myself, and it's frying your goddamn feet because you're too fucking stupid to simply step off the walkway into the grass. As I walked past the pool enclosure I heard Mauricio call out to me in his Brooklyn queen accent. I turned to find him in the crowd and he was standing by the pool, waving to me. Few things look more ridiculous than a man dressed in a three piece suit standing beside a pool filled with fat tourists screeching 'Margaritaville' as they sing along with Jimmy Buffett on a blaring jukebox concealed in a fake tiki hut.

"I know you hear me, Rowdy! Don't you dare walk away from me!"

I grinned. "Do I know you, sir?"

Two women in the pool giggled.

"Steve!" Mauricio yelled.

He was red in the face with fury as Steve walked out a storage room concealed in wall beside the pool.

"Please explain to the vaquero here that we need him to manage the pool bar tonight! Please! I just can't take any more stress! I feel like slitting my wrists!"

I laughed. "There's a really sharp knife in the bar if you want me to get it for you."

Mauricio almost spat at me before flouncing away in a huff, leaving Steve, the day manager of the bar, to do his dirty work. Steve held the locking pool gate open for me and walked with me to the tiki hut used by hotel staff as a pool bar and lifeguard station. Officially the hotel posted signs that patrons swim at their own risk but since alcoholic beverages were served to poolside guests in plastic cups, management liked to post bartenders who were also certified lifeguards. This stemmed from a nasty pool drowning accident a few years back that had cost the hotel a bundle of cash after months of investigations by law enforcement, the media, and basically anyone who wanted to get their name in the paper.

Steve grinned at me and licked his lips, ogling me obscenely, mocking my bathing suit and my predicament.

"Come on, Rowdy, handle the pool for us. Mauricio fired Nate because he came in late again. You're the only certified lifeguard we've got right now. Eileen's coming in later and can help you. I put Carl on your regular bar shift."

He kept grinning.

"I'm not supposed to tend bar dressed in a bathing suit. You know that. At least let me go change."

Steve pulled his garish Hawaiian shirt off and handed it to me.

"There. I've got another one in my locker. That'll satisfy the rules for now. And that overgrown Band-Aid you're wearing should get you a lot of tips."

"Fuck you. You know goddamn good and well you don't make any fucking tips at the pool. Kiss my ass!"

Steve grinned. "Any time. You know I'd love to kiss your ass...eat it out, too."

I laughed. "I need to go take a dump. You can eat all you want."

He snorted. "You think you're funny, Rowdy. I could hook you up with a few guys that would clamp their mouth to your hole and eat that shit as it came out of that sexy ass of yours."

"I'll bet Mauricio's at the head of that list."

We both burst out laughing.

"You know, dude, you'd get along a lot better with Mauricio if you'd just come on to him a little bit, let him suck your dick once and awhile. He's really not such a bad little weasel."

I coughed from some asshole's cigar smoke. "Oh, so that's why you two are thick as thieves, huh?"

Steve blew a mocking kiss at me and walked away laughing. We had a great working relationship and he knew it. Mauricio knew it, too, which was why the chicken shit always left Steve to do his muscle work with me.

I stood up. "You'll have to put that cigar out now, sir, or leave the pool and beach area."

The fat walrus gave me a nasty glare and I glared back.

"Little kids are walking around here barefoot, Mister. You wanna ruin their holiday with your cigar ashes?"

"Show some consideration for others, you shit!" a woman screamed from the pool and splashed water at the man.

"You're all a bunch of sick faggots, all of you. I'll never come to this queer holler ever again."

Fatso threw his cigar at my feet and I dodged it.

"We'll miss having your company, sir."

I picked up the cigar and threw it in a clay pot filled with sand. I busied myself behind the bar for a few minutes as I prepped a few things, got the bar in order. The pool bar was already twenty minutes past normal opening time.

"Could I get a Frozen Strawberry Margarita, please?"

I turned to see the beach stud smiling at me.

"So you're from around here, I see."

"Yep."

He sat on one of the four bar stools. I could hardly hear him over the noise of the blender.

"I don't know how you guys stand it. I'm actually looking forward to getting back to Canada."

"It's hot alright. This is one of the hottest summers on record. But it still beats the hell out the beaches in Canada. The water there's cold as a witch's tit even in the middle of July."

"So you've been to Canada?"

"Prince Edward Island and Newfoundland. My grandmother's from St. John's."

"I'm from Toronto," he said. "I've lived there all my life."

I fixed drinks for a couple of women and turned to see the Canadian with his head in his hands.

I laughed. "You drink it too fast and it'll freeze your brain."

"What brain?" he moaned.

I took care of several customers while he continued to sit at the bar. He asked for another, this time a Fuzzy Navel.

"I heard them call you Rowdy. That's an interesting name."

"I've gotten by with it all my life. Mama was in love with Clint Eastwood."

"So what time do you get off tonight?" he asked softly.

I wiped the bar counter in front of him.

"With any luck I'll get off at ten tonight. That's when the pool closes."

He was giving me the look.

"Could I interest you in a walk along the beach with me afterward?"

"I'll be dead on my feet after my shift."

"How about swim? I'll bet its quiet in the water after ten at night."

I laughed. "Yeah, no one's in the water but the sharks and the idiots who don't mind being shark food."

"Really?"

He seemed genuinely surprised.

"For real. After dark's their feeding time. Didn't you ever see the movie 'Jaws'? The first girl killed in the movie was swimming at night. It's not a joke. A few tourists get killed or mauled every year in Florida."

He looked at my crotch and licked his lips suggestively.

"Maybe tomorrow," I laughed. "I like to run on the beach at seven every morning if you're interested."

"It's a date," he grinned.

"Hey, I don't even know your name and you think we're having a date?"

He smiled and I could see gratitude in his eyes that I hadn't rejected his advances.

"My name's Yannick Darreau and I'm just a lonely Canadian tourist."

I chuckled. "Lonely? I doubt that with your looks."

He preened like a peacock. "You like what you see?" he whispered.

I ignored his question.

"What sort of name is Yannick? I've never heard of it."

His smile was gorgeous. Perfect teeth. Perfect lips. Both to go with a perfect face.

"It's an old Breton French name. 'Yann' means John and 'ick' is little. Little John."

"I see, Little John. And are you thinking I'm your Robin Hood?" I grinned mischievously.

"Maybe. Yeah. You could be. I think."

I burst out laughing.

"Which is it?"

He shifted his thighs and I could see the tip of his penis hanging from the leg of his loose trunks, the foreskin covering about two thirds of the head, the piss hole clearly in sight with a pearl of precum. I glanced around quickly to make sure no one else could see his little show. When I looked at his crotch again his penis was getting harder. I looked upward to his face to see him smiling.

"Little Yannick would like to get to know you a lot better, Robin Hood, a lot better."

I chuckled.

"Well, let's see what tomorrow brings. Then we'll see if Little John and Little Rowdy have a future together."

Yannick stood. "I'll see you at seven in the morning."

He dove into the pool and swam underwater to the other end. Then he pulled himself out of the water, treating me to a magnificent view of his fantastic ass as the red wet trunks melded to his body like a second skin. Yannick walked slowly around the length of the pool to retrieve the flip flops he'd left by his bar stool, giving me a show as his penis flopped around in his wet shorts. As he slipped his flip flops on he lifted his arms above his head, squeezing the water from his hair so it ran down his flesh, and showing me the wet dark curls in his armpits, leering at me as he did his act.

As the evening wore on, the pool bar got busier and Eileen joined me. The tiki hut was circular and built so the pool fence connected to each side, keeping the pool area secure for hotel guests only. One side of the hut faced the pool area while the other side faced the beach. The beach side always got busier as the evening wore on and as people from the nearby rental condos walked in from the beach to drink. The pool fence kept the beach people separate from the pool patrons. It was almost impossible to bartend the tiki hut alone and during the peak holiday seasons the pool bar needed four bartenders. Eileen was a fun girl to work with, an excellent bartender who was also a student at nearby USF St. Pete.

"I'd steer clear of Mauricio if I were you, Rowdy," she advised during a brief lull in customers.

"I always steer of that bastard."

"Well, be sure you give him an extra wide berth over the next couple of days. He fired Nate for being late this afternoon and about an hour ago the hotel manager fired Amber. She was fucking a tourist in his room and his wife walked in on them. The man claimed Amber was a prostitute and he'd paid her five hundred dollars. Thank god the wife blew the whistle on her husband because she's the one who said they only had a hundred and fifty dollars left. The man and his wife left too embarrassed to file a complaint with the police and Patel fired Amber. He put Mauricio on notice that that he'll fire him, too, if any more complaints come up. We'd have been up shit creek without a paddle if the hotel had been investigated for prostitution."