Milf Tails: Get Lucky

Author's Note: Welcome to my entry in Blackrandi1958's Wicked Games story event. Being this event is launching on St. Patrick's Day, how about a story about a family pub, some bawdy Irish toasts, plenty of drinking, and a sexy redheaded milf who's ready to get lucky? Enjoy. LC68

Chapter One

"Hey, let's hit the Black Sheep," Jeff suggested when Sean took the exit. "Heard they have good wings and there's a classic rock band playing tonight."

"I don't know," Sean shrugged while turning onto Westminster, the narrow one-way street that led into the heart of downtown Providence.

"What's to know?" Jeff asked. "Food, music, girls, and lot of hot older women from the offices head down there after work." He made an awful attempt at a Tiger's growl. "Cougars on the prowl for some young studs!"

"Leaves you out," Sean grinned as he saw Jeff flip him off out of the corner of his eye. "You wouldn't know what to do with one."

"Like you would?" Jeff paused. "If you did, you'd be doing more than drooling over the only cougar you ever look at."

"She's not a cougar, she's a Milf," Sean corrected him. "Cougars are women who never had kids, Milf is a mother I'd..."

"Okay, porn boy, I know the difference," Jeff sighed. "Hey, Black Sheep is that way."

"I know," Sean took two sharp rights while thinking, 'Here it comes.'

"Come on man, really?" Jeff protested. "Finn's Pub? Again?"

"I like it there, and I'm driving," He glanced over at Jeff, a smirk on his face. "And paying."

"Yeah, you're right, beggars can't be choosers, but it's the only place you ever want to go."

"It's a cool place, they have drink specials, good food, music, and the crowds a little more laid back, not a lot of jack ass frat boy goons go there."

"Because not a lot of hot girls go there."

"It's a bar not a nightclub," Sean explained. "Besides, it's an Irish pub, I'm Irish and St Patrick's Day is tomorrow."

"Hmm, I think you left out the main reason we keep going." Jeff grinned.

"Whatever. You want to go somewhere else when you're buying, we will, but if it's my treat, it's my say. Cool with that, or should I drop you off on the corner?"

"No need to get hostile," Jeff put his hands up defensively. "All I'm saying is since we turned twenty-one and could hang out in bars, you only want to hang out in one bar."

Sean pulled into the parking lot behind Finn's Pub, and carefully backed his father's massive F350 into a spot, using the act as an excuse not to reply to his friend.

"Then you won't admit why it's the only bar you want to go to."

"I like it here," Sean threw the truck into park and shut off the engine. "Why try other places, when you find one you like?"

"Because it's just about the only place you've tried, so how do you know there's not better?" Jeff laughed while he opened the passenger door to get out. "Going by that I'd have only had sex with one girl, instead sampling a few."

"That's because you're a jack ass," Sean told him, hopping out and slamming the door shut. "There's something called loyalty, you know."

"Like Missy Teague was loyal to you?" Jeff met him at the back of the truck.

"Watch it with that," Sean glowered down at him from his impressive height of 6'4". "Just because that bitch cheated on me, doesn't mean I need to do it to someone else."

"Hey, just saying being dedicated to one thing isn't always the best way to do things, you end up getting hurt sometimes." Jeff told him. "What's Prof Williams always saying, 'Teachable moments?'

"I don't think a pub is going to betray me," Sean muttered.

"No, but the reason you keep coming is keeping you from getting back in the saddle and having some fun."

"You going to do this shit in there?" Sean asked as he brushed past him to walk towards the side of the building that led to the front entrance. "Sound like an old lady, and talk about my life?"

"Hey, if there was a chance, it would be cool, Sean. But you come here and just stare and get these crazy ideas that something's going to happen, and..."

"Jeff?" Sean's fixed him with a hard stare.

"Right, shut up." His friend nodded.

"Don't have to do that, just find something else to talk about."

"Okay, think they'll have those two dollar draft specials tonight?"

"They usually do." Sean shrugged.

"Know what band is on tonight?"

"Nah, didn't bother checking."

"Who do you think the hostess is tonight?" Jeff quickly darted out in front of him, laughing while he ran ahead of him.

Sean shook his head as Jeff vanished around the corner. He shouldn't get mad at him, because he was right, why did he keep doing this to himself? But on the other hand, he genuinely liked Finn's Pub.

Founded in the forties by his friend Connor's great grandfather who he was named after, it wasn't just a classic Irish Pub in design with its old-fashioned wooden bar, visible beams and mixture of paneled and stone walls, but once the original Connor began making money, he made it truly authentic.

Traveling back to Ireland once every few months he brought back wood and other items from the original Finn's started by his father but closed down due to hard times. The heavily scarred bar was from there as were the oak shelves that held the bottles of liquor on the wall behind it.

Many of the wooden handled taps were close to a hundred years old at this point, as were several of the stools. The masterpiece of original craftsmanship, however, was the stone hearth which they still lit every night during the winter.

Finn's Pub was usually dimly lit, other than the area where they had the two pool tables and obligatory dart boards because what was an Irish Pub without darts?

But the soft light made the old-fashioned wood shine due to it being cleaned and oiled on a weekly basis. In addition to the feel of the old country where Sean's own grandparents came from, the Pub's pricing was the cheapest around.

The reasoning, as Conner explained it, was not just about the philosophy that by being less expensive, you may make less per drink, but served a lot more drinks, and it drew people in.

But mostly they believed in people being able to afford to drink and have a good time because fun-and drinking-was what their culture was all about. The small cozy stage in the corner was host to bands who played current music, as well as traditional Irish bands every Saturday night, and there were always people out on the dance floor enjoying both equally.

The food, like the alcohol, was priced less than the bars in the same area who took advantage of the fact a lot of people from surrounding offices made good money, and also surprisingly good.

There was plenty to like about Finn's Pub, including the fact it was family owned and not part of a chain or owned by someone with enough money looking for a business venture or hobby.

The pub had been passed from OG Connor, as his friend called him, to his son Clancy who still bartended right up until he passed of a heart attack at the age of eighty two, then to his son, Connor's father, William.

William had made the pub more modern-and had joked probably made Clancy roll over in his grave-by gutting the several rooms above the pub that were for boarders back in the day and converting it into an open hall to book for parties and events. Such as Finn's annual St Paddy's Day party tomorrow night.

Connor had been working there bussing tables and washing dishes since he was fifteen and was now one of the bartenders while studying business management in preparation for the pub being his one day.

Keeping it in the family had extended to the customers, many of whom were descendants of the original Finn's crowd and made for a fun friendly environment full of people as genuine as the owners.

As he'd told Jeff, Finn's didn't cater to the drunk frat boy type, the high rollers in their thousand dollar suits or women wearing Prada heels. The crowd was mostly working class and some of the mid-level office types who were still real people who wanted to drink and hang with other real people, not elitists.

Finns was run by working people for working people, and it was Sean's type of crowd. There was never any drama or trouble, just a place where people gathered to get away from the stress of everyday life and felt welcomed by both the owners and fellow customers.

As Connor's father used to say, Finn's wasn't just a place to be, it was a place where you belonged. The passing of William three years ago of a brain aneurism that happened in his sleep, also affected Sean's desire to come to the bar once he was old enough to.

Sean had never thought much about his heritage, but when he attended William's funeral in support of Connor and his mother, Molly, it was a real eye opener. He'd expected somber; grieving people shedding tears and taking comfort in each other's arms.

Instead, it was a party where liquor flowed as liberally as it did in the pub. Many of the older relatives and friends took turns speaking fondly about William, always standing by the coffin when they did.

They would end their words with an Irish toast, then the shot glasses were raised to cheers and the drinks downed. Even Molly, newly widowed, had led a toast and when she accepted the hugs and condolences did so with tears in her eyes, but a smile on her face.

Sean had commented on it to his mother who explained that to the people who adhered closely to the 'old world', death was seen as a chance to pay tribute to the departed, and that person wouldn't want a solemn depressing morbid ceremony, but a celebration.

They wanted drinking, and stories, and most of all the affirmation that life was good and to enjoy it always, even in death. During the entirety of the funeral service, where even the Priest, after he said his mass, saluted William with a shot of Jamesons, while a pint of red Guinness ale sat on the coffin.

At the end, Connor, eighteen at the time, picked up the glass and spoke about his father. With amazing composure, he spoke of him as a man, a father and a friend, telling a couple of funny stories about growing up, then turning to the coffin wished his father well, and drank half the glass, before handing it to Molly who also spoke, and then finished the beer.

The gathering at the hall afterwards was even wilder and featured a band, dancing and the kind of hardcore drinking that would shame a frat house. At one point several of the women danced an old fashioned jig with the band silent, and accompanied only by the rhythmic clapping of the men, who then took their turn dancing.

The scene seemed bizarre to Sean at the beginning but by the end, and the fact no one seemed worried about the drinking age, and he'd been allowed a couple of beers and a shot, found it endearing.

Afterwards, he spent more time with his grandmother who was happy to regale him with stories from Ireland and with the help of her daughter, Sean's aunt Shawna, taught him Irish dancing.

Sean had been to Finns several times before he turned twenty-one, including a graduation party for Connor, Sean, Jeff and other friends that took place six months before his father's death.

But to come here now as a man made him feel good, and Connor and Molly were always thrilled to see him there. At this point between school and helping run the pub, Sean's visits there were about the only time he saw his longtime friend these days.

Another reason he always wanted to come here, but Jeff was right, there was one more, and at this point the biggest one, one he felt guilty over, but not so much that he could stop himself.

His obsession with Connor's mother, Molly McBride

Chapter Two

Sean didn't see Jeff in the small, paneled foyer waiting for him. Then again, there wasn't a cover charge he couldn't afford so he'd probably just gone ahead and found a booth.

At the archway leading into the main pub stood a wooden podium where one of the waitresses were posted to greet people and sit them if they wanted a table. Sean felt the all too familiar conflicted emotions of excitement tinged with shame when he saw Molly at the podium.

"Sean!" She always greeted him with a huge smile as if she hadn't seen him in years, even though he came here at least twice a week at this point. "So good to see you!"

In spite of his mixed feelings, he returned the smile because how could he not? Molly's smile was adorably lopsided, but always so big and sincere it was contagious and had to be returned.

She stepped around the podium and threw her arms around him, giving him a hug as enthusiastic as her greeting. Sean returned the hug, trying to tell himself to keep his thoughts where they belonged. This was a platonic hug being given to him by someone he'd known for ten years.

She was also the mother of one of his friends. That thought was always his line of defense when he caught himself thinking of her as a woman he had an interest in, rather than one that for a variety of reasons he had no right feeling that way about.

He had no right thinking about how soft her long copper red hair felt beneath his hands as he placed them on her back. No right inhaling the scent of her Black Opium Illicit Green perfume and wishing he were smelling it from a pillow after spending the night in her bed.

He sure as hell had no right thinking about the way her breasts crushed against his chest from the force of her hug, or how her face nestled easily into his neck because even though she was tall, always wore heels.

No, he shouldn't have to resist the urge to slide his hands down her back and over the sweet curve of her ass which was always well displayed in the skirts or slacks she wore. Likewise, when she kissed his scruffy cheek, he shouldn't have to force himself to not move his head and catch those beautiful lips with his own.

"Good to see you too," he responded, easing from her embrace even though being in her arms, even so briefly, was something he found himself living for lately. "It's been a whole two days," he joked.

"Even a day without seeing a good friend is a day too long." Molly beamed up at him, her gorgeous emerald, green eyes shining, the smattering of freckles around her nose and those pink lips still spread in that cute crooked smile of hers.

God, he wanted to kiss her!

"You're like a fortune cookie," he told her. "Always quick with a line."

"Not a line, I enjoy seeing you," she told him, her thin red eyebrows lifting, "And I'm never quick when it comes to things I enjoy." Was that a dirty remark, or he was being a dog and reading into it?

"You enjoy seeing me?" she tilted her head playfully, but her eyes probed his as if looking for a reaction.

"Always good to see you," he assured her while again wondering if she were flirting? No, she was just being friendly. It was part of her charm, and also how her family had always kept people coming back, by making them feel welcome.

But the way she looked at him, like she was waiting for him to bite. It wasn't just now, but just about every time she saw him in the few months since he'd been coming to the pub. A casual remark followed by what seemed to be a meaningful look.

Could she be hoping for him to respond in kind? Putting out bait for him to take? Or was he just being an idiot reading into innocent comments because it's what he wanted?

B, the answer was always B. No, the answer could be A, but only if it stood for asshole because it's what his crush on Molly made him feel like. A point driven home by the fact that even as he'd just joked about how she acted like it had been a long time since she saw him, he could never see her, without thinking about how damn perfect she was.

Or maybe it was just perfect for him as Molly wasn't what some guys would consider the standard of hot. Her hair, which flowed halfway down her back was more orange than red, a shade many women would dye, but Molly flaunted, always wearing it down.

The patches of freckles on each side of her nose were made more prominent by her complexion which between her Irish heritage and being a natural red head was fair to the point of chalky.

The skin tone made her thin copper eyebrows seem more prominent than they were, but also caused her deep green eyes to stand out even more, twin beacons of radiant color flashing out from beneath her long red lashes.

Aside from those eyes which were always bright and lit up whenever she smiled, it was that very smile that he felt was her best feature. Molly's lips were a natural pink, and she rarely wore lipstick.

They were large and full, perfect for kissing and for doing something a lot dirtier, and as much as he longed to experience the former, Sean had spent quite a few nights imagining her using them for the latter.

But for as perfect as her lips were, her smile was crooked, her lips spreading unevenly towards the left. Technically it was an imperfection, but Sean found it endearing, and along with the freckles around a nose which was slightly upturned, gave Molly a fun, girl next door look.

But from the neck down, her adorably quirky, and maybe not for everyone, look, gave way to a body that no man would ever take issue with. Following his thoughts, Sean's gaze slid past the green bow tie choker around her neck and to the sleeveless white t-shirt she wore.

The words "Get Lucky at Finn's Pub" printed within a large four-leaf clover was low cut enough to show a hint of cleavage and stretched tightly over her prominent breasts. The shirt also displayed a pair of smooth creamy shoulders dotted with patches of freckles and there were quite a few scattered over her upper chest.

One concentrated patch was located directly between the visible upper portion of her breasts and he'd once overheard Molly telling one of the waitresses her husband had called them the "mischievous freckles' because they were begging for trouble.

Sean saw them as both kissable, a place to tease before his lips made his away over those creamy tits to what he was sure would be a pair of succulent pink nipples the same shade as her lips, as well as a nice target to aim for while titty fucking her.

FFS, what the hell was wrong with him? He'd been in her presence for less than five minutes and his eyes were on her tits and his mind in the gutter.

"You want one?"

"Huh?" Sean's eyes darted back to her face.

"You were staring at my..." she paused for just a second. "Shirt. If you like it, I can get you one."

"Oh, um, sure I'd like have one."

"Just one? I figured you'd like a pair." A slight smile played about her lips and her eyes tried to find his, but he looked away in embarrassment. Christ, she'd caught him staring.

"I sent Jeff into the corner booth by the hearth," Molly let him off the hook, cutting off any stammering reply he could have come up with. "I'll walk you over."

"I think I know the way," he joked, trying to get away from her now that he'd made a full of himself.

"Nope, I'm the hostess until Emily gets here, now right this way, sir." Without waiting for a reply, she spun smoothly on her heel and headed towards the hearth.

Sean followed her, and despite having just made an ass out of himself for looking at her tits, he took the opportunity to take in the rear view, and the rear in that view was damn fine.

He wasn't sure what her slacks were made out of, but the thin shiny material clung to Molly like a second skin. On the thinner side, she still had enough hips to flare out from her slender waist and give a nice little swing to her walk.

The painted-on slacks showed off the curve and swell of her perfect heart shaped ass, and hugged the full length of her legs. At 5'11" barefoot, legs were something Molly had in spades.

Other than a girl in his English class who played for the PC Lady Friars, Sean had never seen longer legs on a woman, and his eyes enjoyed the journey from her tight firm thighs down to her slim well shaped calves.