Over the Hill White Knight Ch. 01

Bingo. The phone opened right up with the code. And, of course, his background was a topless woman, the apps imperfectly hiding her naked tits.

I turned the phone off and pocketed it before glancing at Ramel, "Hey man, like I said, he had it coming." He held his hands up, "The guy's been awful to them girls, y'know? I don't know what the hell it was, but he's got them wrapped up tight. It's your place now; you do what you gotta do."

I desperately wanted more answers, an explanation about why anyone would let this happen, but I heard the first telltale sound of sirens approaching. "Wait here, I'll meet them," I said to him, but he grabbed my arm.

"Hey man, what was he doing? More people tell the cops what happened, the less trouble there'll be, right?" So I told him and stepped out into the night.

The cold was a sudden slap in the face compared to the oily heat in the kitchen, but I didn't let it bother me. Two cruisers came whipping around the building, and I kept my hands slightly up, non-threatening. Even still, I was a burly ass man with bloody knuckles standing outside of a 911 call, and the cops stepped out warily.

The rest of the night passed quickly. After some initial standoffishness, I showed them Brett's wrecked form. They made him presentable and hauled him into the access road. I think they were a few seconds from putting me in cuffs, but Kala and Ramel interjected with their statements, and Ji-soo told one of the cops the whole story, and they backed off. The EMT that came by a few minutes later to load up Brett checked on Ji-soo and said she was physically alright other than some bruises but obviously shaken up.

Still, I was reasonably confident the cops were going to load me up to at least take my statement at the station. That is until Kala pulled the sergeant aside and showed him one of Brett's monitors, the one pointing inside the office. She rewound the rolling footage it kept on the hard drive, revealing exactly what the bastard had been doing. It went into an evidence bag, along with the coke, and Brett disappeared into the night in the back of an ambulance.

"Who the hell are you anyway, security?" The police sergeant asked, pulling me aside. He looked like he was in his late thirties with a high and tight, possibly a retread Military Policeman who stuck around town.

I chuckled. "New owner. First day visiting the place."

He scoffed, shook his head, "That uh, that cute bartender said you were Army, so I'm giving you the benefit of the doubt. We'd usually take you to the station too, you know?" I nodded, "We've got all your info. If that little turd goes ten toes up, or he fingers you for anything, you're right into the shit, ok?" Another nod and he disappeared into the darkness following Brett.

I somehow made it back into the bar before closing, and all of the clients were thankfully oblivious. Kala was back at work and had the girls on a rotation to go in and check on Ji-soo. Part of me wanted to do it myself, but I didn't know her at all, and she'd looked terrified of me in those awful few moments in the back office.

So I returned to my seat, the last few regulars and college kids drifting around me in a drunken haze, and I downed another beer.

It would've been so easy to just go home. I was undoubtedly exhausted enough, but the dregs of adrenaline in me kept me strangely alert. Paolo and the other bouncer cleared out the last few drunks. The barbacks swept and mopped and cleared tables. The three remaining girls cleared out their many tabs, wiped down the bars, rearranged bottles. The cooks scrubbed and scrubbed and scrubbed, hauled garbage, scrubbed some more.

I just finished another beer, my knuckles throbbing; I don't think I'd hit anyone like that since a back alley in Itaewon twenty years earlier.

Kala clocked everyone out -- maybe Brett, despite everything, had been telling the truth that she was assistant manager? The bodybuilding bartender, Nikki, drove Ji-soo home. Either way, by three-thirty in the morning, it was just her and me in the empty bar, still lit as if it were happy hour. She wiped and wiped at the same spot of the bar, already clean, waiting for something to happen. For me to do something, maybe?

"Can I get one last beer for the road?" I asked from the gloom around my table, "And some ice for my knuckles?"

"Of course," she said, voice wavering slightly. The beer came in a huge frosted mug, the ice in a tightly wrapped bar rag.

"I'm...I'm sorry you had to see that," I said, my voice hard but sad. I still needed to know just what role Kala had played in all of this, but it was hard to miss how fiercely protective of the other girls she was and how shaken up she was by the night's events.

"I've seen worse," Kala said, though her voice still wavered. She endlessly scrubbed the same part of the bar, not raising her eyes to meet mine. "Though, seeing him get his ass handed to him was the best thing I've seen for a long time. A long time."

I chuckled drily, "Well, I'm still sorry." I sighed, shifted the ice from one hand to the other. "All this makes my decision a whole lot more difficult. First thing I've gotta do now is find a new manager and hold it down myself until I do," I took a long sip and clinked the mug back onto the table, "and I don't know a damn thing about running a bar."

She finally stopped wiping the bar and looked up at me, "Well...I could help with that, you know. I've been in this business for a while."

I looked over at her, and our eyes met in the half-lit gloom. There was something there, a charge, an unsaid expectation, but I didn't know what. The rush of rage and adrenaline had long since passed, leaving a kind of blissful exhaustion in its wake. But it had woken something else too, a feeling of need that I'd thought had long since disappeared during my marriage and never reappeared after it had ended. Maybe that's what was filling the space between us.

I had no illusions that there was only a tiny chance that I was right. Kala was the kind of woman people wrote Penthouse letters about and, even though I could tell she wasn't as young as the other girls, she was still a fair sight younger than me. Worst, though, was the uncertain anger that still smoldered inside of me about how much she'd known.

Fuck it. I wasn't getting any younger, the night was growing longer, and fatigue and half a dozen tall-boy beers had loosened my tongue and softened my inhibition.

I stood up out of my chair, the wood creaking, "Kala, come here, please."

***

Shit. Fucking shitting shit-fuck. I didn't know what he wanted, but I could guess. I should've left hours earlier, but instead, I was alone with him in that bar, in his bar, walking around to the swinging half-door to sway my way over to him.

I hated myself for being attracted to him, for the way my insides boiled when he'd beaten the hell out of Brett. He was just like my ex, all masculine power and violence, but goddammit, I guess I had a type. And I was helpless to control myself when confronted with a man like Ivan. I hated myself, but I'd also been finding myself grinding my thighs together in an attempt to scratch the itch he'd given me.

I stood in front of him, dwarfed by his massive bulk. A lump lodged in my throat at being so close to him again. The faint odor of his deodorant and cologne tickled my nose, mixed in my nostrils with the manly tang of his sweat.

"Yes?" I said, my voice barely a whisper even though I'd wanted to sound sassy and confident.

"You knew, didn't you?" He asked softly, simply, but his blue eyes were like ice.

"Listen, Brett was a scumbag, ok? He--"

"Did you know?" He stopped me, his words cutting right through my excuse.

"Y-yes," I stuttered meekly, like a stupid fucking teenager caught by their mother out past curfew. My self-loathing only grew.

"Why didn't you come right to me? Why didn't you storm back there? Why didn't you do something?" He never got loud, never balled his fist or sneered at me like my ex-husband would, but I felt like the smallest person in the world all the same.

No, fuck that. He didn't know. Didn't know everything that the bastard had done, everything he had on us! I wasn't just going to fucking roll over.

"This is one of the only bars that made it through COVID in town, and we need the job. If we left, he'd make sure we had no job history or, worse, call every other place in the state and tell all kinds of lies about us. And. And...he has...he has pictures. Videos. Of all four of us," I swallowed a sob. "Yeah. Even me. He always told us he'd put them up on one of the tube sites if we turned him in, and he told me he'd post all four of us if I turned on him. More than the four of us; other girls were here before. They all just quit. Left the industry altogether because of him."

"You knew he was back there with her."

"The last couple of months, he's been pretty tame! He knew he had us where he wanted us, knew he couldn't push us much more. But tonight...he was coked out of his mind because you were here. And..."

Ivan sighed, shut his eyes, and tilted his head back. He took in a huge breath, held it, slowly breathed it out between pursed lips. "Ok. Ok. I believe you. I'm fairly certain you and your girls aren't going to have to worry about that anymore." He looked back down at me, vast and manly and intimidating and just...ugh. "So what do you think, Kala? Want to be my new manager? Think you can help me out? Take care of things for me?"

Was he really dropping those obvious double entendres, or was he that oblivious?

"Sure...if the price is right." I responded carefully. I let my gaze smolder up at him.

He chuckled. "I'd agree to whatever you asked for, honestly, but I haven't even seen the books yet," he did another one of those subtle once-overs of my figure, "Though I'm sure you're not hurting for tips."

I hated to let a sneer ruin the sultry face I was using to draw him in, but I couldn't help it. "When we saw our tips at all, you mean? Brett either snatched them out of the jar or messed with the Point of Sale system."

His face darkened, but he smiled it away with a sigh. "Well, that's handled now, and you and the girls won't have to worry about it after today. Deal?"

"Sure, boss," I said, making my voice higher than it needed to be. Why hadn't he made a move on me yet? It was so much easier to hold it over men when they clumsily threw themselves at me.

He chuckled again, "That's nice, Kala. I like that. 'Boss.' It's cute."

"I'm glad I can please you," I said with a flutter of my lashes, laying it on thick.

Something changed on his face, though what it was, I couldn't tell. Dammit, he was hard to read. "Interesting choice of words," he said. "Are there any other talents of yours I should know about before I promote you the same day I met you?"

"You'll have to wait and see, I suppose," I breathed, barely managing to control a tremor of nervous excitement from running through me.

"It's been a long day...What if I wanted to know right now?" He said, voice low and deep, and took a step even closer to me. I gasped slightly when his massive torso grazed my straining chest, brushing nipples that I didn't even know were hard, "Would you want to tell me? Show me, maybe? Or leave this a strictly...professional conversation?" When I didn't, couldn't answer, he pressed on, "I'm not like that shitstain that I just poured into the back of an ambulance. When I want something, I ask for it. I don't force it."

I gulped before answering, my mouth suddenly dry. Ugh, what the hell? Was I a teenager all over again? "And what...what would that be?"

He edged forward again, my tits entirely pressed up against what felt like a brick wall of muscle, "I saw you looking at me all night, Kala, especially after I handled Brett. So I'll ask again before I head out and walk home: are there any other talents you want to tell me about? Show me?"

The bastard still wouldn't make his move. All the pieces were there, but he just wouldn't pull the trigger. I hated it, but I was still fighting the urge to rub my thighs together, "Oh yeah? I caught you looking at me too." I almost groaned at how feeble my response was.

"How could I not?" He said so softly, his ice-blue eyes staring into my husky-pale ones.

He leaned down slowly, the distance far enough to almost be comical. Yesss, I thought to myself, he was finally going for it, and I had him where I wanted him. There'd been a lot of false starts, but the plan was coming together. I closed my eyes, parted my lips ever so slightly, craned my neck to meet him.

Instead, I felt his hot breath on my ear, tickling my skin. "You still haven't answered my question."

I shuddered, and I know he noticed it. What the hell was I doing? I'd met this man a few hours before, and he'd turned my plan and the whole bar on its head. I had no idea if he was going to be good for my girls or me. At least he was so, so much better looking than Brett. As I leaned in closer to him and put a small hand on that rock-hard torso, I told myself that I was using my sexuality and body to influence Ivan. To mold him and control him so that my girls and I finally had a safe and functional place to make the cash we deserved. I told myself that it wasn't just the molten heat in my womb taking over, that this was cold and calculated, a transaction to take care of my girls. That's what I told myself, anyway.

If he was going to make this so difficult, I figured I'd get something extra out of it. "If you want to see my talents, I'd better see yours too."

***

Well, holy shit, I guess this really was a Letter to Penthouse kind of day. Kala was practically trembling with excitement or desire or nervous energy. Maybe all three. Deciding to be as careful as possible, with the bonus effect of prolonging the anticipation I'd already subjected Kala to, I moved around her. I brushed her soft and feminine body with my hard and masculine one before crossing the open space and ensuring the front doors were locked.

I crossed back, seeing that the slightly confused but faintly panting bartender had half-turned to see what I was doing. I strode purposefully up behind her, overwhelming her body with my size. She tried to turn fully around to meet me, make another attempt at a passionate kiss, but I pushed my hips against her voluptuous ass and lower back, pinning her against the table. My huge hands slipped under her arms, following the swell of her massive tits.

Like I'd been subconsciously imagining all night, I roughly grabbed her chest, squeezing through her bra and the thin, abused tanktop. A tiny gasp escaped her plump lips before she groaned, and she arched her back to push her tits further into my hands and her ass tighter against my groin. My lips found the soft, sweat-salty skin of her neck, and she tipped her head back with another quiet moan.

I was so much taller than her that when she tilted her head all the way back, I could easily lean my head down to kiss her plump lips. For a moment, only a moment, just our lips brushed together, feeling each other out. But neither of us could wait, and our lips both parted so our tongues could eagerly massage each.other. I couldn't help but groan into our kiss, a deep and rumbling sound, and she whimpered back into me. She was hungry for more, desperate for it, trying to stretch her body up towards me to press her lips harder against mine, moaning with every exhaled breath. Her scent filled my nose, surrounded me, spicy and sweet with arousal and femininity.

It wasn't exceedingly suave or elegant, romantic or mature, but I couldn't have been the first man in that bar that had dreamt of doing what I was doing at that moment. I squeezed and massaged those huge, amazing tits, feeling her hard nipples press against my palms. Through the miles of pillowy, warm, perfect flesh, I felt a pair of implants. They were soft in their own way, yielding when I pressed my strong fingers even harder against her breasts, and I supposed I couldn't be that surprised. Kala's chest defied gravity and the laws of God and nature, and I was just fine with that.

A thought that had been curling its way through my mind a few minutes before came swirling back to the surface. I reluctantly pulled my lips from hers, and I swore she whimpered at the loss, "I'll show you one of my talents first then, I suppose?" I asked with a smile.

"Yes, please," she moaned, eyes half-closed, "show me what else you can do."

I'd decided, the moment I had the faintest glimmer of the possibility of success, to perform one of my old favorites. Of course, my second wife hated it and never let me do it except at the beginning of our relationship. Still, my first wife and the string of debauched relationships between marriages had all gone wild for it. So I couldn't help but give her a grin that exuded confidence and not the excited anxiousness rushing through me.

I pulled back just a bit, and my hands fell from her perfect tits to that impossibly tiny waist. My thumbs hooked into the waistband of her painted-on jeans, and I yanked them down with all my strength. For a moment, I earnestly thought they'd be stuck at the broadest part of her hips and plump ass, but they just barely cleared them and quickly slid down her toned thighs to her trembling knees. I left them bunched there, noticing with a smirk that she hadn't been wearing panties.

She gasped, frozen save for the uncontrollable trembling in her legs. With my hand, huge-looking on the small of her back, I bent her further over the table she was pinned against, and she didn't or couldn't resist. Then, so quickly and forcefully that she gasped again, I squatted just behind her and grabbed each massive asscheek with one hand, and pulled them apart. The tiny little rosebud of her ass came into view, but it was the glistening lips of her pussy, nestled tightly at the tops of her quivering thighs, that I was after.

Smiling, I leaned forward and gave her a single long, slow lick.

***

I rolled my eyes at first; of course, his 'talent' was to just bend me over and fuck me on a bar table. As if he was the first to try that, I thought to myself. Even then, there was something about the way his actions were so deliberate, the way he'd practically forced me to admit the way he made me ache for him. He might have oversold himself more than a bit, but that didn't mean that I wasn't looking forward to a good hard fucking.

My pussy practically gushed when he yanked my jeans down and forced me over onto the table. Ok. Ok girl, maybe this was a talent of his. I tried to hold still for him, waiting for the inevitable jingle of his belt and the pressure of his cock getting ready to hammer into me. But one long second stretched by after another.

What was he doing back th...oh god. Oh fucckkk.

He gave me only a single long warning lick with his perfect tongue before he started slurping and suckling on my pussy lips like a man dying of thirst. I couldn't help the strangled moan that burst from my lips, just like I couldn't help the way my fingers clawed at the table from his sudden burst of enthusiasm. For a moment, I was worried I'd slip and collapse off of the table from the way my legs quivered, but Ivan's burly arms were easily keeping me upright.

Realizing that fact sent another shockwave of arousal through me, and Ivan grumbled happily into my soaking wet pussy.

Goddamn but he was good. It'd been so long since one of these snared men of mine had focused so singularly on me, and I just basked in it. Exhaustion and adrenaline and fear swirled and changed into a molten, building flood of lust deep inside me, and I found myself biting my lip to try and hold back the whimpers he brought forth from me.