Maggie

There she was, again. This had to be four weeks in a row, each Friday, late, when the crowd was dying down. She came down the bar, and sat on the last stool, the one I had to pass when getting more beer or ice.

She smiled. "Gin and Tonic, please."

I glanced at the door, expecting him to be right behind. Might as well take his order at the same time. She watched me and said, "He's not coming, if that's what you were waiting for."

Now I smiled. "Oh, okay. Flying solo tonight?"

Her look turned sour. "Yeah, this bird has flown that coop."

I didn't want to get into it, so I mixed her drink and helped another customer.

I didn't know either of them, but anyone could see they were mismatched. He was mean, and got meaner as he drank. I'd seen the type and would not be surprised in the least if he knocked her around.

He still wore his hair slicked back like it was 1956 instead of 2010. He wore a dirty work shirt with Gus over the pocket, buttons open to show his chest hair, as if growing that was a talent. He was my age, 35 or so.

She was a lady. Not that tall, but her long neck made her elegant-looking. She always wore a chain, or beads, to high-light that. Her salt and pepper hair was in a long pageboy, framing her pale skin. The pale blue eyes and red lips stood out against the white background. She always seemed overly-dressed for our neighborhood establishment, as opposed to his pseudo-grunge. Tonight she wore a red satin button-down blouse and black skirt. I guessed she was 45 to 50.

The crowd grew lighter, and whenever our eyes made contact, she smiled. I knew I was wasting my time, that she would probably be back with him next week, but we made idle chat on and off. Then she brought him up again.

"Mitch, can I ask you a question?"

"Sure." Like I could say no, right?

"What did you think of Gus?"

I hate that. Why do people ask me things like that! "He seems nice, I don't really know him."

"He doesn't like you."

I was surprised. "Oh, okay. He said that, huh?"

"Yes, he says he can tell that you don't like him much, either."

Very observant, I thought. Maybe he wasn't so dumb. "Well, I'm sorry he feels that way."

"I think he's jealous," she said.

"Of me?"

"Yes, he has no people skills and he sees how comfortable you are, talking with strangers, especially women. He hates that. Plus he thinks every man is out to steal me away from him, like I was his property."

"Well, it's my job to be sociable. I'm not this outgoing, usually. And I avoid being too friendly to women when they come in with a man for that same reason, men get jealous."

"Is that why you look away when I smile at you?" she asked, calmly, and I looked to see her smiling even then.

I smiled back. "I didn't mean to look away, just trying to watch the customers."

"Sure... anyway, I don't mean to bend your ear, just wondered about you and Gus, whether he was right."

There was my exit, my chance to get out of this line of chat, but no! I couldn't leave well-enough alone. "Actually, he was right. He's just not my kind of guy, sorry."

"Very good!" she said, like we had a breakthrough. "Now, why?"

"Well, for one thing, he seems very bossy to you, and over-bearing, and jealous. I think women should be treated like ladies, until they prove themselves otherwise."

She watched me over her glass. "So, you think I'm a lady?"

"You asked why. That's my answer. Excuse me, another customer."

The conversation got lighter, then. Her name was Maggie, divorced, no kids. Had dated Gus for 3 months, even though he was married, supposedly separated. Now she found out he was still with his wife and two kids, so he slinked away when she confronted him.

There was only one couple left, nursing their drinks, so Maggie played the juke box, slow, sleepy love songs, probably feeling sorry for herself but remaining friendly. The song from the Eighties, "Lady in Red" came on, and she touched my hand. "That's me, the lady in red, my favorite color."

I smiled. "It looks good on you."

She squeezed my hand. "Can you dance with me?"

Why not? If someone came in, I'd just stop and serve them. And I doubted that, at this hour. So, we stood at the end of the bar, and she came to me, and leaned right in, her chest melting into mine. Not being an expert, I would put her as a 36D, which seemed even larger since she was about 5'5, with large heels, almost teetering. Her arms were around my waist, and she held me close. I didn't complain. We swayed until the song ended, and even then, kept moving.

She looked up, our faces close,and whispered, "Thanks, Mitch," and I was tempted to kiss her, but just said, "Thank you, too."

It got to be last call, and I announced it. The couple seemed to be waiting for it, like a school bell, and was gone in a minute. Maggie asked if she could wait while I closed up.

"Sure, then I can make sure you get to your car." I shut off the outside lights, and cleaned the bar, my usual routine while we continued talking. In the dim light, it seemed so intimate, and she continued to smile.

"Okay, almost ready. How about you?" I asked.

"Tonight was fun, Mitch, thanks for listening."

"My pleasure," I said as I stepped from behind the bar.

She came to me again, as if to dance, and wrapped her arms around me. She looked up and said, "I thought you were going to kiss me before."

"I thought about it."

"What stopped you?"

"You just broke up with Gus, you're vulnerable. And I was working."

"I'm not that vulnerable, and now you're done work. What's stopping you now?"

I had no answer, and she was so close. I leaned down and our lips met, a soft kiss, testing each other, then another, more pressure, then I felt her tongue. I opened for it, and she moaned slightly.

The doors were locked, there was no chance of interruption. But a lady would never do it like this, would she? Then why were her hands clenching my ass? And now one is rubbing my crotch?

It felt so good, with her squeezing my growing bulge, and my hand naturally slid to her breast, feeling her heave through the red satin. This spurred her on. Lady or not, she wanted it, now! And I was just the man to give it. My fingers worked on the buttons and the blouse slid open revealing a red half-bra, lacy, and over-flowing with soft white flesh.

She was fumbling with my belt when I pulled her further into the back, where the tables were, so no one could look in through the windows.

Since there was no strap to the bra, her tit popped out easily and I dove for the nipple, already hard and pointy, and she moaned again, now undoing his jeans. She was whispering, spurring me on, telling me that Gus was right to be jealous of me, that she wanted me for weeks.

Her blouse was off now, and my zipper was down. She reached into my jockeys and pulled out my swollen prick, the pink head twitching. She made a satisfied groan and began stroking me as I unzipped and shed her skirt. Now, she stood in heels, both breasts out of her bra, in red panties, breathing heavily.

"Take me, Mitch, take me now!" she moaned as she backed up to a table, sliding her panties down, and laying back, spreading for me.

Her black bush was trimmed, and her fluids glistened on her pubic hair. She pulled me toward her by my cock, and I didn't fight it, letting her lead me in.

When I was at the entrance, I stopped and held my self, sliding it up and down her length, lubricating it with her juices. She moaned, her head rolling with pleasure, and I continued until she begged me to stop. Then I entered, slowly, inch by inch, in then out a bit, then in more, until I was over her, in as far as it would go.

We kissed again, enjoying how deep I was and how warm it felt, then she began to move, rotating her hips, and I did the same. Now I withdrew, almost to the head, then drove back in, and she seemed to extinguish and regain air as I pumped her, gasping, then expunging as I went faster and harder.

The table creaked and her entire weight was on it. I heard my own grunts matching hers, getting louder with her, until we both were almost screaming! I shouted, "I'm gonna come!" and went to pull out, but she wrapped her legs behind me and said, "No, inside me, inside me!" So, I did, I shot and grunted and she clung to me as she howled to her own climax, matching mine.

We stayed hunched on the table, gasping for air, for what seemed like forever but was actually minutes. I softened but not totally. We kissed and I withdrew. She laid there, pure white against the dark table cloth, not in a rush to move.

"Are you okay?" I asked.

"Fine, just enjoying the moment." She stirred then, began to dress.

"How about an early breakfast?" I asked.

She was matter-of-fact. "Oh, thanks, but that's not necessary."

"Well, I'm starving now. You sure?"

She stood, half-dressed, and said. "Mitch, thanks for tonight, but really, it's not necessary."

I felt like I was being dismissed, and I didn't like it. "Look, Maggie, if you just wanted to get laid, you should have just said so."

Her eyes welled up. "No, that's not it! I figured you got what you wanted and everybody was happy. I didn't expect anything more. Breakfast would be fine, really, I just didn't want you to feel obligated."

I grabbed her shoulders and said, "If you're serious about being done with Gus, I'd like to see you again. If not, then tonight was fun."

She didn't answer, and we dressed in silence. I walked her to her car, and said goodbye, and away she went.

Two weeks later, she walked through the door, alone.