Entertaining at Large Ch. 13

'It looks very nice.'

He smiled down at me and I had to laugh. I found myself imagining Chloe's reaction if he had used the term with her. Even George might have had what to say. But looking around again, trying this time to see the place through the fresh eyes of a newcomer, I could see how he could be confused. The new paintwork and reconditioned wallpaper seemed to glow under the soft lighting. As I drew him across to the bar even I had to accustom myself to the slight give in the brand new carpeting. I found myself pressing a foot into the giving-shag to test its springiness.

'Bet you didn't recognise the place.'

The beefy arms which lifted me bodily off the ground could only be Mandy's. That and the fact that I had been completely unaware of her approach. I wriggled against her huge boobs which only made her laugh the harder. When I eventually regained terra firma - or terra firmish should I say - I was flushed and slightly breathless. Mandy leant down and kissed my cheek before examining Helmut with a quizzical eye. His expensive clothes marked him out as a cut above the usual Crown and Anchor regular.

'This is Helmut. He's a business colleague of Steve's. This is Mandy. She's...'

I was going to continue, but I was rendered speechless when Mandy blushed deep red. Helmut had taken her hand and, bowing stiffly from the waist, drawn it to his lips. A speechless Mandy was something to be taken in and remembered. I didn't want to break the spell.

'He's German.'

I added superfluously.

'Guten abend, und wilkommen.'

This was going from the slightly odd - good manners always seemed out of place in the pub - to the frankly bizarre. Mr J had stepped out from behind Mandy. Her bulk had completely obscured him from my view. He executed a similar bow, his accompanied by the clicking together of his heels before proffering his hand. Both Mandy and I stood open-mouthed and silent as the two men began a long and obviously mutually-satisfying conversation. Over the course of a few minutes they went from formal politeness to back-slapping intimacy and shared guffaws. Mr J eventually stopped short in the middle of an anecdote when he realised we were both standing staring at them and had no idea what they were talking about.

'I'm sorry. Please forgive us. It's a long time since I had the pleasure of speaking German.'

'Oswald and I' - Helmut pronounced it Ozvalt.

'Turns out we know many of the same bars in Hamburg. Different decades, of course. I was there not long after the war.'

'And I can imagine what you were doing there, you randy little bugger.'

Mandy gave Mr J's arm a playful squeeze and laughed as he turned red. Helmut looked down at his feet and blushed slightly himself. I smiled as I imagined that, he too, had been up to similar things to Mr J. All I knew about Hamburg bars I had learned from old documentaries about the early days of the Beatles. And even those highly-sanitised histories could not disguise the fact that they were a cross between strip clubs and brothels.

'He's only here for the beer tonight Mandy. He's under the impression that all English beer is warmed over washing up water.'

I winked at her and Mandy took a step backwards and looked Helmut up and down with fresh eyes. Her expression was one of mock sternness.

'Anyone told George that yet?'

She made it sound like there might be trouble when word reached him.

'Not so far as I know. But then, you know how word gets round in this place.'

I took my place next to Mandy and copied her mock-serious pose. I shook my head solemnly. Helmut looked a little concerned as he glanced from us to a grinning Mr J and back again.

'Don't listen to them mate. They are just trying to get a rise out of you. Come on, let me buy you a pint.'

Mr J wagged an admonishing finger at us as he took the German by the arm and led him towards the bar. I could see George leaning there watching the group of us over the heads of thirsty drinkers he was handing pints to. I gave him a little wave and looked around the crowd for familiar faces - a rush for drinks usually means the stripper had just finished. I caught glimpses of naked female flesh through the press of gropers and oglers near the stage as a girl collected tips in the customary pint jar. I didn't recognise her at first despite feeling I had seen her before.

I checked my phone to see if there were messages from Steve as I tried to work out where I had seen her before. Nothing. But as I slipped it back inside my handbag there was a gap in the crowd and I saw her face clearly for the first time. Her and the bloke standing close behind her. She was one of the couple I had posed with on new year's eve. I laughed again as it came to me that she had also been the woman lying underneath the table gobbling on George's ball sack the night Stacey and I had watched her being shafted by the obese one in a threesome with her friend in the back bar.

I giggled to myself and turned to Mandy to ask how the neophyte's strip had gone. She, of course, had disappeared as silently as she had arrived and was now behind the bar pulling pints and joking with the customers as if she had never been absent. She caught my eye and gestured with her head for me to come over. The press around the bar was getting thicker and she obviously wanted a hand.

When I eventually manoeuvred myself through the crush and took station beside her I realised why. George had deserted his post and was deep in conversation at the far end of the bar. As he was talking to Helmut and Mr J it was easy to guess the German's challenge had been laid and accepted. George was leaning on the bar and Helmut's face was a mask of concentration as he tried to follow what looked like a brewing lecture. Mr J stood watching and occasionally translating when Helmut's almost perfect business English let him down as he tried to follow the intricacies of George's lecture. I left them to it. I had my hands full dealing with thirsty punters for a mad twenty minutes.

The pressure was not helped by George's latest unannounced business initiative. Several of the men getting beer and lager asked me to autograph postcards. It was only when the first one was handed over that I noticed sets of my pin-up session were for sale behind the bar at twenty quid a pop. Twenty quid! I couldn't work out whether to be flattered, insulted or embarrassed. Mandy put me straight once the rush subsided.

'Don't fret it, love. Just think, you're making a tenner a time from these wankers - and that's a technical description not an insult.'

She laughed at her own joke. I didn't think it was that funny.

'He could have asked me first.'

'I suppose he thought you might have said "no".'

'And then got really pissed off when he went ahead anyway.'

She laughed with me.

'You know him so well.'

We looked across at George, more or less affectionately, as he entertained Helmut and Mr J. I realised I had never seen him look so serious as he held glasses up to the light and encouraged the others to follow; remarkably small sips were being taken, savoured and enjoyed. It was still the old George, however, for when the stripper eventually made it to their table she was unceremoniously grabbed and forced onto his knee where her tits were massaged and squeezed. He seemed to be recommending their weight and texture with as much enthusiasm as he had for the beer. When he had finished and stuffed a note into her jar after first massaging her fanny with it he pushed her over towards the guests and forced her down onto Helmut's knee. She hugged his neck enthusiastically when he placed a twenty pound note in the proffered beer glass and seemed to be insisting he take selfies to commemorate the occasion. I nodded for him to go ahead when he looked across at me seemingly seeking permission. It was nice to see others having fun even if I wasn't.

'Nice bloke that one. Seems to be coming round to the right opinion.'

I felt George's hand on my bottom as he spoke. I pushed back against him as I watched the stripper's tongue disappear into Helmut's mouth and his large hand slide between her thighs. George tightened his grip and I heard him laugh.

'You're a bit frisky tonight, lass. I'll put the word out, see if we can find you a shag.'

'I'll use your balls as a football if you do.'

'Just pull us a couple of pints of Hardy's Seemingly Particular, will you, whilst I announce the next lass? Think they should settle the argument once and for all.'

I watched carefully as the dark amber Particular filled the first pint glass. I had had a few myself in the past and knew it would likely dissolve man-made fibre if it spilt. The next girl's name was Charlene and she took to the stage with the gait of someone who had had one too many vodkas. I watched her flop around the podium for a moment before preparing the next pint.

'Susan. Thank you for bringing me here.'

Helmut slurred his way through the sentence with the slow deliberation of a man who had considered each word before uttering it. I smiled down at his now florid face as I unloaded the tray.

'My pleasure, Helmut. Watch this stuff though.'

I nodded at the beers.

'I don't want to have to carry you back to the hotel.'

The way he reacted you would think it was the funniest line he had ever heard. He said something in German to Mr J who frowned when I raised an eyebrow in expectation of a translation.

'Um. He said something to the effect of how pleased he is that he doesn't have to worry about getting home tonight. More or less, that is.'

I leant over and kissed Mr J on his forehead. It was to thank him for his gallantry in lying to my face. That's what I told myself. But something of the risqué, drunken atmosphere was definitely getting to me despite my abstinence. We all turned when a loud cheer came from the direction of the stage. Charlene had struggled out of her tight minidress and was standing in her underwear looking like a magician who had just pulled a rabbit out of a hat. I did nothing but draw an inadvertent breathe as I felt a hand slide under my dress and up between my thighs.

'She is a very beautiful woman.'

I pressed my legs together while Helmut probed the outside of my panties as he slurred, but then forced myself to step back. I didn't want Mr J getting all protective of me once he dragged his eyes away from the entertainment.

Helmut said something in German, breaking his sentences with fruity, knowing laughs. I heard the word "gangbang". That piqued my interest and I paid more attention to them as they laughed. Whatever they were on about, it clearly concerned Charlene. They kept staring at her as they spoke.

'So. Are you going to let me in on the conversation?'

They both stopped speaking and dragged their eyes reluctantly away from Charlene as she toyed with her bra catch on the small dais. I grinned innocently as I looked from one embarrassed man to the other. Helmut said something to Mr J which only made him blush more and clutch at his tie. I had to laugh.

'Perhaps you'd better explain to Helmut the full meaning of "one of the boys". Come on, you two, spill the beans.'

The story was dragged reluctantly from a mortified Mr J. It turned out Charlene and her friend Sadie had been persuaded to turn up for a lock-in on the pretext of what George had told them was the selection committee for dancers. I'd pretended to be shocked when Mr J admitted he had been one of the dozen or so invited by George to play the role. After the copious application of alcohol to the pair the audition, it seemed, had turned into a full blown orgy.

All the time my neighbour spoke Helmut feigned fascination with Charlene's performance edging himself ever so slightly away from the table. He joined back in when George reappeared.

'Just been helping young Sadie into her costume for the second act. What's been going off here then?'

He had none of Mr J's embarrassment and got both men to agree instantly that they'd 'audition' me later if I was up to it. My response was succinct but sufficiently Anglo-Saxon to require Mr J's translation skills to convey the full meaning to Helmut. He seemed disappointed in my refusal.

'Not sure I can have my barmaids using language like that in front of the customers. You'd better get yourself back there. Looks like the lovely Charlene's just about reaching her climax.'

That announcement was all they needed to concentrate once more on the stage and start emptying their glasses. I heard a shout for three Murgatroyd's Blonde Lightenings as I took my place next to Mandy and prepared for the next rush. From behind the bar I could get a good view of the plump woman throwing her panties into the crowd and acknowledging the shouts and applause which echoed back. Her husband extended a hand to help her from the stage so she could hustle tips from her fans.

It took a good ten minutes of handing over pints and taking cash before Mandy and I had a chance to catch our breathes. From the vantage point on the bar platform if was interesting to watch the pub sort itself out. I spotted Scarlett and Tracey talking earnestly to Matt over the far side of the room and gave them a wave. I wondered what they were up to but had to serve more customers before I had a chance to speculate further. The next time I looked in their direction Matt was being led towards the toilets by Tracey. He gave me a weak smile when I nodded to him.

Mr J was valiantly trying to hold the ring between the two other men. I had never seen George drunk before, but judging by the back slapping and mock arm wrestling going on between them they were both well on their way. When they caught be looking at them George shouted for the Murgatroyds whilst waving his arms like he was trying to confirm the order by semaphore.

Getting their three pints onto the table was like serving an octopus. With both hands carrying the tray I was in no position to stop George grabbing my bum as I leaned over. Helmut's hand was between my legs without so much as a by your leave. He was clearly worse for wear; there was little remnant of the courteous individual I had met at the start of the evening. Even Mr J who had stood as I approached - ever the gentleman - took the opportunity to cop a feel on the pretext of helping me with the beers.

I have to admit I was flustered. George was just acting to type and, a rational part of my fast-thinking brain told me, after letting him touch me up behind the bar, I should have known what was coming. Helmut and Mr J on the other hand were clearly on the randy side of tipsy. A place where inhibitions recede and tomorrow's regrets are conceived. Being a thoughtful and considerate friend to all three of them, I did what any sensible and sober girl would do: scowled at Mr J who immediately withdrew his hand from my breast and started apologising, slowly eased Helmut's arm away from its hiding place while smiling sweetly at him and punched George in the side of the head. Not hard, you understand, just strongly enough to bruise a knuckle.

'Will there be anything else, gentlemen? I'd be happy to take a swing at any of you if there is.'

I was away back to the bar and Mandy's appreciative applause before they could respond. There was not much in the Crown that passed her by.

'I'd swear that bugger puts something in the beer. They'd touch up a pensioner the state they're in.'

'So what happened to saying "yes" more then?'

Tracey was pulling herself up onto a bar stool and reaching for the alcopop Mandy was uncapping in front of her.

'What?'

'You said your new year's resolution was going to be to say "yes" more.'

She was, of course, right and I reluctantly told her so.

'You've got to take the rough with the smooth. Stands to reason.'

'OK, maybe you're right. But there's rough and then there's being touched up in public by three randy old goats.'

She was shaking her head.

'Take tonight, for instance. Had to tell your boy Matt I wasn't going to make his do next week - oops, sorry, should have told you that first. Don't worry, Scarlett's stepping in. Me and Jason got a really good deal on tickets to Tenerife.'

I was a bit nonplussed. There was a lot to process. I quickly decided I wasn't too worried about the late substitution, but it would have been nice to be told.

'Anyway, we're telling Matt and he's, like, a bit grumpy about it. I think he saw Scarlett's Miss Whiplash turn on old Ned and was worried he'd get a taste of the same. So I takes him into the bogs for a quickie. You know, to sort of make up for him not getting me next week.'

She paused and took a long swig from the bottle and then giggled. Her eyes never left my face as if trying to assess my feelings about her dodging out on me. I still wasn't completely sure and I'm sure it showed even though I smiled.

'Well he only gave me fifty quid, didn't he? Said it was spending money for my holiday. Wouldn't have happened if I hadn't been willing to put myself out a bit, would it?'

She sat back on her stool with a look on her face like she'd just won a prize in a debating society competition. I leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. Whatever my resolution, I still had no intention of shagging Crown punters in the toilets. But Tracey was a mate and on those grounds alone I was glad she was happy with the decisions she was taking.

Of course, for the busty young woman, a chaste kiss on the cheek is never a satisfactory outcome of any show of affection. She grabbed my head in both her hands and planted her mouth on mine before I could draw back. I tried to resist as she shoved her tongue into my mouth. But I gasped as she grabbed at one of my boobs and that let her probe deeper and the shiver that ran down my body made me respond.

The kiss probably only lasted a minute, but that was long enough to make sure everyone around the bar got an eyeful. There were whistles and the odd comment when we broke and I found myself flushing. Tracey took a swig from her drink and winked at me.

'I'll come round and show you my tan when I get back.'

And she was off her stool and back into the crowd. Mandy handed me a tray and sent me out to collect empty glasses. I don't know whether she had planned it, but she created the perfect opportunity for the lads to take advantage of me, my recent exhibition and my uncertainty as to the limits or applicability of my new year's resolution.

I had already been patted and stroked on the behind several times before I bumped into Charlene on my way to the farthest table. She was making her way naked through the press soliciting tips. Her husband insisted we repeat the previous photograph. This time with me clothed and her not. A bystander suggested I lick her tits as she had mine on New Year's Eve. It was heartily endorsed by a group of drunks at the nearest table and I told them I'd do it if they tipped her well. I don't know how much money they put in; I only heard coins tingle against glass. But Charlene was pulling my head down and pushing her breast up before I had a chance for any second thoughts. Nipping her taut nipple with my teeth brought a squeal from her and a cheer from the boys. One produced a twenty pound note for a repeat performance on the other side. It was fun, but I skipped away from them after rolling the second teat around my tongue.

At a table loaded with empty glasses close by the stage a group of the older guys from the engineering works were reminiscing about banging the night's two performers. They pulled out a seat when they saw me and asked me to sit and sign their collection of my postcards. I deflected their invitations to audition for them, but acquiesced when Paul, one of the few of them who came to watch us play football, wanted to slip a fiver into the top of my stocking as a thank-you for the autographs.