George: Book 02

BOOK II - CHEERS

Chapter 1

George was feeling pretty chipper by Monday evening. His business meetings earlier in the day had gone fabulously; the prospects for sales to at least two of the firms that he had visited today were all but assured. He had just finished a delicious meal at the Orion Room, a restaurant recommended by one of the day's contacts.

George asked a waiter at the Orion Room to recommend a bar. The waiter gave him directions to a place a mile away that had a large screen TV and was always crowded with Monday night football viewers. As a second choice, the waiter said that the Orion's bar served excellent drinks, but its purpose in life was to hold the overflow dinner crowd waiting for seating in the restaurant. It would be pretty deserted on a slow Monday night.

George was not much of a football fan even though he had played cornerback for Massachusetts. He even had a slight limp from a knee injury to prove it. Therefore he walked into the Holding Tank bar next to the Orion Room to have a quiet drink and contemplate what to do with a lonely evening.

The waiter who directed him was right; there were only three customers in the bar and they were grouped at one table. There were two middle aged men and one younger man; they looked like blue-collar types, in fact they were all wearing bowling shirts, but for three different teams. George selected a table near them and seated himself.

The waitress that appeared in front of George a few seconds later was a lovely sight. She stood about five feet, six inches tall with dark hair and a pretty face, highlighted by a sparkling smile. She had a half-inch scar on her chin, but it didn't detract at all from her looks. She had on an enticing, starched, white blouse tucked into tight canary yellow hot pants. George ordered a Corona with lime before she said a word.

"Thank you," she trilled in a medium pitched voice. She smiled even brighter. "I like a customer who knows what he wants." She turned and walked away before George could think up a reply.

George sat silently watching the three men across from him. The waitress brought them a round of draft beers and the men engaged her in conversation. It was apparent to George that the girl knew the men at least a little. George eavesdropped on their conversation. One of the men called the waitress Jenny and asked her about "Tommy." Apparently, Tommy was her young son.

Further conversation revealed that Jenny was divorced, dating someone on a somewhat regular basis but not living with him. When asked about the scar on her chin, she admitted that her ex-husband had slapped her and his ring had cut her chin.

Jenny turned down a date offer from the younger man at the table saying that she had a rule against dating customers. She enjoyed her job and would not risk trouble by dating a regular customer. George got the distinct impression that she was trying to find a convenient excuse because she didn't want to date the man but also didn't want to hurt his feelings. She seemed like a very nice person and George wondered what had precipitated a divorce for her. It must be tough raising a small child alone.

George's eyes followed Jenny as she walked back to the bar. She passed behind it and began washing glasses and George realized that she must also be the bartender. It really was a slow night.

A minute later, Jenny dug out a bottle of beer and a chilled glass; she opened the bottle, stuffed a quarter lime in the top, and brought them to the table. George asked her to run a tab and thanked her for the beer.

"You're welcome," she smiled. "Are you from out of town?"

"Yes, I am. Why did you suspect that?"

"There wouldn't be any local people in here on Monday night that I don't recognize."

"I live in Tucson. Name is George," he offered.

"I live in Dayton. Name is Jenny," she mimicked him. "Enjoy your beer, George." Jenny walked back to the bar.

George resumed eaves dropping on the conversation at the next table. In his years as a traveling marketer, he had become adept at evaluating people quickly just by listening in on their conversations. Over the next ten minutes, he was able to get the basics of the three men he listened to.

One of the middle-aged men, Tom, was married and had two grown children. He was dissatisfied with his sex life at home and preferred the companionship of his friends to that of his wife. He was rather loud and seemed to consider himself the leader of the trio.

Dick, the younger man was single with a girl friend; he saw her about twice a week. It sounded like she was more serious about the relationship than he was. He boasted openly about their sexual activities to impress his friends. They clearly did not believe everything that came from Dick's mouth.

Ralph did not seem to fit in with the other two. He was much quieter but George found that he was divorced. His wife had left him because she thought he drank too much. Ralph claimed that his only drinking was done at the bowling alley twice a week and one or two nights with Tom and Dick. He claimed that he never drank at home.

The conversation at the table took a turn as Dick brought out a pen and Ralph was writing something on a napkin. They each pulled out a coin and flipped them simultaneously. They looked at each other's coins.

"I'm odd man," Tom said, "I get first pick."

Dick flipped his coin again and Ralph called, "Heads." The coin apparently was heads and so the order was determined for whatever the hell they were doing.

Tom picked, "white" and Ralph wrote on the napkin. Ralph picked "black" and Dick laughed at him. "Black ain't won yet," he jeered.

"I'm due," answered Ralph. "I just got a feelin'." He recorded the selection on the napkin.

Dick seemed to ponder his choice until Tom became impatient. "Pink," he finally chose. The selection was recorded on the napkin.

For his second pick, Tom chose beige. "Beige," whooped Dick, there ain't no way the honey is going to have beige panties on!" George's interest in the choices suddenly perked up.

Ralph selected blue as his second choice and Dick chose red, although he expressed much doubt that it would be a winner. Again the selections were recorded.

At this point, Tom noticed that George was watching the proceedings. He said, "You can have the field for ten dollars."

George thought he understood the offer but he pretended ignorance. "I'm sorry! I don't know what you're talking about."

Tom lowered his voice and explained, "The manager of this place, Don, brings a girl in here nearly every Monday night; not always the same girl. We've got a pool going on what color underpants tonight's chick will be wearing. We each put up ten bucks and picked two colors; you can have all of the other colors for ten."

George thought for a moment, "If you guys put up five for each of the six favorites, then I ought to get the field for five."

The men at the other table looked at one another. No one objected and Tom finally said, "It's a bet. This is our fifth pool and the field hasn't won yet."

"Neither has blaack or beeiige," Dick chortled, stretching out the words.

"How do we determine the winner?" George asked, knowing it sounded like a really dumb question. He wanted to keep up conversation and find out more about what was transpiring here.

The men at the other table laughed. "Absolute proof; you'll see it with your very own eyes," Dick finally answered.

"Two weeks ago," Tom continued, "he had a hot red-head in here. He took her panties off and tossed 'em on the floor." Dick pointed to a spot about five feet from where George was sitting.

Tom chimed in, "We not only got to see her panties; we had a good look at what was underneath 'em. She was a real redhead all right. Had about the nicest fur pie I ever saw, not too thick and all neatly trimmed. Yummm! I could have ate the whole thing."

"That was the night I won with pink," Ralph volunteered. "All honeys ought to wear pink panties. They look the best."

Everyone fell silent and George sipped his beer. Finally he asked, "Who is this Don anyway? What make him so special?"

Tom was the one to respond again. "Don is a tennis hack. He was actually ranked in the top twenty in the world a couple of years. Then he tore up his knee and retired from tournament competition. He saved his money though and invested it too; He's worth several million now. He started giving private lessons at the local club. Many of his students are young women who want to stay fit and bored married sluts among the idle rich."

Ralph carried on; Needless to say, his lessons included more than just stroking a tennis ball. He teaches a different stroke too. And from what I hear he's better at that one than the tennis. Three months ago he bought an interest in this bar. He spells the manager a couple of nights a week and on Monday's he entertains the few of us here with his latest project."

"Why do you think he does that?" George interrupted.

"He don't have anything else to do here on Monday's He's just bored so he brings along something to help him pass the time."

Back to Tom, "From what I've heard around town, he meets a woman he likes at the club, gives her a couple of tennis lessons for free, gives her a couple of strokes in bed and he has her hooked. Then he toys with her for a couple of months till he's tired of her and brushes her off. That's his reputation and the women know it up front; but there seem to be very few beautiful women around these parts who can resist him. The several millions probably don't hurt."

Dick had been listening and now broke his silence. "I think there are few beautiful women around here that he hasn't dickered already."

"Dickered! What the hell kind of word is that?" Tom chortled. "The word is fucked!"

Dick looked embarrassed. "My grandmother taught me not to use that word. She caught me saying it once and whaled the tar out of my hind end."

"What does your grandmamma call it?" Tom and Ralph both laughed; but in a friendly way that showed they did not want to rib Dick unkindly.

Dick didn't answer and the group fell silent. "If this is such a great show," George prodded, "why is the audience so small?"

"Word ain't got out yet," Dick responded. We aren't going to spill the beans. If too many people got interested it might come to a halt."

Jenny walked over and poured the last of the Mexican beer into George's glass and asked if he was ready for another. "Ok," George replied.

"Are you staying for the entertainment?" she quizzed.

George played dumb again. "I don't know. What is it?"

"Well, -- tonight we could have Cecille or Pam -- or maybe somebody different, that we haven't seen before." She smiled a mysterious smile and left again.

George began anticipating the entertainment, even though he had very little idea what the hell was going on. He heard a whisper from the other table; "They're here."

Another voice answered in a low tone; "We ain't seen this one before."

The third voice added, "She could be the best show yet!"

Chapter 2

George turned to see exactly who had arrived. A couple had entered the bar and was headed toward him. The man was tall, about 6'4", tanned, quite dark with black hair. He reminded George of Seve Ballesteros. He was expensively dressed in a handsome sport coat and contrasting slacks.

The man held George's attention for only an instant. A look at the girl nearly took his breath away. She was a stunning beauty, tall with medium length platinum blond hair, (George preferred blondes), and a lovely tanned face. On a scale of ten she was at least a fifteen.

The most intriguing aspect of her appearance was her youthful face. If you looked only at her face you might swear she was a teenager, perhaps eighteen at most. But when you viewed the entire package you realized she must be upwards of twenty. She had a young woman's body, not that of a girl. As George stared at the girl, a jolt of recognition hit him. He was sure he had seen her before, but he had no idea where or when.

George's focus switched from the blonde's face and figure to the outfit she was wearing. She had on a white blouse and brilliant orange skirt. The blouse had a high neck and below the elbow length sleeves. In the lights of the bar it appeared almost florescent. The skirt was straight, trimmed with gold buttons down the side and was extremely short. The length barely reached the level of the tabletops as she passed them. Her long tanned legs reached down to a pair of gold high-heeled pumps.

As the couple passed his table, George just stared at the orange skirt. "Mini, mini, mini," thought George, "how does she dare to sit down."

Suddenly, George remembered why she looked familiar; he had a picture of the girl. She had been a model in the Sports Illustrated swimsuit calendar last winter. He was sure of it. Her picture had been one of his two favorites. He even remembered her name, Ginger - something. What was she doing with a washed up tennis bum in Dayton, Ohio?

The couple walked to a booth by the wall, ten feet from George's table. The blond slid in on the side nearest George facing away from him. He could only see the back of her head. "If only she had chosen the other side," lamented George in his mind. The guy didn't sit down but went to the bar to order drinks.

George sat pondering how obvious he would be if he got up and moved to another table where he could stare up the blonde's skirt. Jenny showed up with his second beer. "Is she the entertainment?" George gestured toward the girl in the booth.

"I guess so," was the answer. "I haven't seen her before so I can't tell you how entertaining she'll be."

"I've seen a picture of her; I'm sure of it. She is a model and was in Sports Illustrated."

"Beats me."

"Have I got a good seat?" George continued.

"Probably, but if you don't, you can take your pick." Jenny fanned her hand at all the empty tables in the lounge.

After the waitress/bartender left his table, George looked back at the blond. She stood up again and headed for the exit. At the bar, her boy friend talked to Jenny for a minute and then followed his date.

The conversation at the next table started up again. "It's got to be white," the older man said. White would look super under that little orange skirt."

"What about black? Black goes with orange."

"This ain't Halloween you know!"

"The field could have a chance," volunteered Dick. "What if her underpants are orange too?" They all looked over at George.

They all agreed that pink and red were probably losers and the two older men finally agreed that white was certainly looking like the favorite. Their conversation on the subject stopped abruptly as the couple returned.

The guy removed his sport coat; his shirt was long sleeved and he wasn't wearing a tie; laid the coat on the table of an adjacent booth and slid into his booth facing George. The blond returned and slid in beside him. She kept a hand between her legs to block the view up her skirt. George couldn't take his eyes off the long stretch of nylon that was visible below that little orange skirt. Jenny showed up with the couple's drinks and stood talking to them, blocking George's view.

When Jenny returned to the bar and George's view was no longer obscured, a strange thought struck him; this bar was lighted far brighter than most of the bars he was accustomed to. He was grateful for that. He stared at the girl and sipped his beer. She sat quietly, talking to her beau with her legs uncrossed beneath the table, a hand still between her legs. Her profile promised a figure as stunning as her face and clothes.

George glanced over at the three men next to him. They were conversing quietly, drinking and stealing glances at the booth. George decided he needed a pit stop and went to find the men's room.

When he arrived back at his table, George sat down and looked immediately over to the booth. He found the couple in the booth kissing. The guy had his arm resting on the back of the booth, behind the blond, as he leaned toward her. The blond had her head turned toward him. Both hands were in her lap. The men at the next table were watching intently too.

George had witnessed couples necking in a bar before. His business travels had taken him into countless nightspots and he knew that this activity was not uncommon. He had seldom seen a woman as attractive as this one as a participant. Her looks did tweak his interest.

As he stared at the couple, they kissed lightly several times, followed by a longer, more passionate kiss. Then they stopped to sip their drinks. George found himself turned on immediately, not so much by what he had seen so far but by the prospect of what might come.

The same sequence of several short kisses followed by a long one was repeated several more times. Each time, the long kiss lingered longer than the time before. The third time, the girl raised her right arm and laid her hand behind Don's neck. After they came up for air, she pecked him on the lips several times. She was definitely interested.

They each took another swig and the guy leaned back against the wall. He took another swig and smiled at his partner.

After one sip, the girl stared expectantly at "Seve's" face. (George thought of the guy as Seve even though he had heard the other men name him Don. The blond didn't remind him of anyone in particular, except Ginger in the swimsuit issue. He was sure it was her.)

When Don didn't come back to her, Ginger leaned toward him, put her hand on the back of his neck again and kissed him on the mouth. In leaning over, she pulled the hem of her miniskirt further up her long, lovely legs. George watched anxiously to see how high it would go.

The guy didn't respond to the blonde's first kiss and she continued kissing him around the mouth. At last, his mouth opened and he kissed her long and hard. His arms went around her neck and pulled her closer. The hem, with George's eyes transfixed on it, reached new heights and the view became more fantastic.

The couple began kissing long and hard, coming up for air only occasionally. George could feel the excitement growing in his crotch. Any second he expected to see the girl's skirt pull up far enough to expose her nylon-covered ass.

The girl was obviously enjoying the necking and seemed to have no inhibitions about her public display. As she became more excited, she stretched further and finally her skirt was pulled high enough to reveal the darker material of her pantyhose and just a glimpse of her girdle or panty underneath. George could not tell which it was but with a figure like hers he doubted that she wore a girdle. Whatever, it was lightly colored, definitely not black. George remembered the pool and glanced at the other bettors. They were all staring intently at the booth in silence.

The next time the couple's lips parted, the guy whispered something in the blonde's ear. She reluctantly straightened up and smoothed her skirt with her hands. She slid out of the booth and started toward the exit; her walk was a little unsteady. Since she hadn't had much to drink, George assumed it must be from the excitement.

Seve slipped out of the booth also and followed his date. Their drinks were only half emptied, so George felt certain that they would return. He finished his beer and focused his attention on his fellow pool members. They were studying the napkin with their selections on it.

Ralph was the first to comment, "Tom, you got the best shot. Beige and white are still in from what I could tell; blue and pink too; red and black are out." They all seemed to agree.

Dick saw George watching them. "What do you think?" he asked.

"Could be light green," George surmised. "How often does this go on"? George took the opportunity to gain more info.