Sasha (Mixed Drinks #1) Read online

  “Ah, it’s bullshit if you ask me. I only hit a fence. It’s not like I hit a kid or anything,” he explained, as if I had the power to overturn the judgment. He continued to tell me how the ‘lady judge’ had it out for him, and that it was not a fair hearing.

  I shoot a look over to Megan and Sadie, both of whom had clearly been listening in. I could see their shoulders moving from the laughter. They knew George as this fairly nice, old school guy. You know the kind... the ones that never swore in front of a lady, and still thought chivalry was a commandment.

  George continued to inform us that his grandson had insisted on selling his car for him, and to sweeten the deal, he had promised that he would be happy to drive George wherever he wanted to go. He dropped George off earlier, and now he was two hours late to pick him up. I topped off his beer one more time and told him it was on the house. George gave me a drunken smile and accepted the free beer, tossing me another dime while telling me I was a good kid.

  As I stepped back over to my girls, I couldn’t help but feel sorry for George. He was such a nice old man, and it seemed that the excessive amount of Blatz was bringing out a side to him that had never been seen before by us. His irritated tone of voice and the excessive swearing was not like the George we knew.

  Megan, Sadie, and I went back to bashing my ex-boy toys, when suddenly George stands up and shouts, speech slightly slurred. “You know what you ladies need? A real man! I should take you out back, rip off those tight little jeans, and show you what a real man can do for you!”

  I stood behind the bar motionless and wide-eyed, in pure shock at the visual that has just flashed into my head. It was an old wrinkly cock and balls coming at me, with the oxygen tank not far behind, and me screaming, “Oh My God, old balls!”

  I snap out of my stupor when George starts moving toward Sadie, yelling, “You hear me? I listen to you girls each week complain about how no man can satisfy you properly, so I’m gonna show you what a real man is.”

  I start to run around to the front of the bar toward George, to stop him from accosting Sadie, who was now fighting with the bar stool that had snagged her shirt while she was desperately trying to get away. I see George fidgeting with his zipper, his belt already unbuckled, and had now accidentally knocked over his oxygen tank, all while mumbling what I can only assume was a play-by-play of what he was going to do to satisfy us.

  I was really starting to get nervous, seeing that it was just George and the three of us in the bar... alone. Not that I thought we couldn’t take him down. But how would I explain that one to the police? Excuse me, Mr. Officer, we are the victims here. He tried to attack us, he wanted to show us what a real man was like, and when he wouldn’t back down, we had to bring out some kung fu on his ass. No, I didn’t break his hip. He did that by tripping over his oxygen tank.

  I was starting to mentally prepare my desperate appeal to the judge, in an attempt to get out of the imaginary charges, when a quick movement out of the corner of my eye caught my attention. A hot stallion of a man was running toward us yelling, “Grandpa, what the hell are you doing?”

  “I’m gonna show these ladies what a real man is like in the sack! Wanna help? You take the brunette, and I will take the blonde and the redhead,” George slurred back.

  We all looked at each other, jaws to the ground. Now I was picturing Megan (the tall redhead) and Sadie, (the short blonde) in a three-way with Grandpa George. But really, I mean, who could blame Grandpa George? Megan and Sadie were hot. Megan had once been a cheerleader in high school, and is now a personal trainer, with perfect C cups and killer thighs. While Sadie, with her curly blonde hair, was the one who normally got a guy’s attention first when we were all together. Her sky blue eyes and her ass that could never be confused as having junk in the trunk, was hard to resist. I could see that similar images had popped into their heads, because they both started laughing hysterically, with a side of gagging. OH MY GOD, OLD BALLS! Was all I could think of. Old balls, jiggling around like a J-ello Jiggler that no one wanted to touch.

  A second later though, I was imagining that stallion of a man ripping off my tight jeans and favorite blue tank top. I got the top a few years ago and wear as much as possible because it shows off the cleavage that I only pretend to have, with my tiny size B’s. In my mind, he tosses me up on the bar, pours Southern Comfort over my body, and then begins licking every golden drop off of me, not missing an inch while working his way down to my lady parts. Said parts are now screaming to be played with and penetrated by what I can only assume is going to be a very large, youthful cock that I can ride all night long.

  “Grandpa! Stop it now! You’re not going to show these nice girls anything like that.”

  “Oh, yes I am, It still works... See!” George proclaimed, triumphantly.

  Like a train wreck that no one can look away from, we all look down to see the bulge in Grandpa George’s pants has gotten a bit bigger. In a creepy sort of a way, I was almost impressed. I mean, being a man of his age and all, you would think he would need a little blue pill or a penis pump to get it to stand at attention.

  In that same moment, I heard, “Oh come on, really? Why would you want to scare these girls?” The voice was sexy as hell, and it was drawing me back into my fantasy of being tossed around the bar and pleasured all night long, while sweet and sexy nothings were whispered in my ear.

  His voice almost brings me to my knees, and I’m fully prepared to beg him to talk some more. He could say anything and it would bring music to my ears. He was the whole package, and I just wanted to unwrap him like I was a kid at Christmastime, impatiently waiting to see what was underneath the shiny wrapping paper.

  “Come on, Grandpa, let’s get you home. I think you’ve had enough for one day.”

  I snap out of my trance in time to see Stallion Man moving swiftly towards the door, with George in tow. “I’m so sorry, please forgive him. He has had a difficult week, and a few too many beers, it seems.”

  I try to speak, but I’m frozen. That magical voice has rendered me speechless, and for someone who is a bartender for a living and traditionally has a one-liner ready to go at all times, this is a first for me. I open my mouth to speak, but before I can say boo, Grandpa George and the Stallion Man are gone.

  “OH MY GOD, WHAT IN the fuck was that all about?” Sadie shouts in confusion.

  As we all stand there, lost in pure shock over our encounter with George, I linger on the fact that his grandson is a serious panty dropper. I flashback for a movement to his warm brown hair and those eyes… Those gorgeous brown eyes. I will never be able to get those eyes out of my head.

  “I’m not sure what got into George, normally he is such a quite gentleman. He’s not a great tipper, but has never caused any trouble before,” I inform Megan and Sadie.

  “I, for one, am ok with him acting out. As long as it means that his grandson is going to come to the rescue,” Megan giggles. “I mean, did you see how damn delicious he was?” I think she says this more for my benefit because both she and Sadie are happily attached. This leaves me as the single friend they love to live through vicariously.

  “Oh really? I didn’t even notice,” I respond. They burst into laughter, knowing I’m full of shit. We rehash the events for a little longer, and then turn our attention to our plans for the coming weekend. There was a gathering on Crater Island planned for Saturday, and we were all going in Will’s boat.

  The summer was almost over, and we were itching for a beach weekend before it got too cold out. Crater Island has always been the beach to hit when looking for a true beach party; booze, sluts, man whores, and anything else you can think of, would all find their way to the island every summer.

  Since I was now single, I was looking forward to seeing if there was a new guy waiting for his soon to be ex-boyfriend nickname, but with that thought, my mind shifted to Stallion Man. I didn’t even get a chance to ask his name.

  Megan and Sadie finish their drinks and say their goodb
yes so I can start working on my prep list before the next shift comes in. As I stock the cold beer, I imagine Stallion Man on the beach with us, taking a long drink from a cold beer as the condensation drips down the brown bottle towards his lips. His chest, bare and ripped with tight muscles, is just waiting for me to give him a rub down with oil. He looks over at me, giving me the fuck me eyes and then nods his head in invitation to come over. Employing the best ‘who, me?’ look I can muster, I put my hand on my chest and glance behind me, then blush as I start to walk over. He puts his arm around my waist to pull me closer, and just as he is about to kiss me like I have never been kissed before, I hear, “Hey Sasha, slow day, huh?” Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck... It’s Dustin. He is my relief bartender, and he’s early. I’m actually kind of pissed that he just interrupted my daydream when it was about to get X-rated.

  “Yeah, it was pretty slow today. Not much to report.” I choose to omit the incident with Grandpa George earlier. That was just way too embarrassing to repeat.

  Dustin helps me finish my to-do list while talking to me about this new girl he has been seeing. She seems nice, but that is expected since he knows almost nothing about her. Dustin has a habit of going for the girls that really like him up until date four, when they realize that they just want to be his friend, and nothing more.

  Dustin is a super sweet guy who would do just about anything for a girl, and unfortunately that comes off a bit clingy at times. Once, he covered my shift because I somehow managed to give myself a chemical burn using expired sunscreen. After he finished my shift, he stopped over to see how I was doing, and to my delight he had a bottle of Aloe Vera in his hand. After I took a cool bath and had a quick rub down, he stayed to keep me company and he didn’t even try to make a move on me. I suppose it helps that we had already gone down that path and it only took me two dates to figure out that he was going to be a better friend than a boyfriend. Unfortunately he didn’t feel the same way, and still tries from time to time to get me out on a third date.

  “I WANT YOU! I WANT you so bad it hurts! I want you inside me, and I want to feel your warm body against mine.” I implore, and he happily complies with my pleading request. I feel him penetrate me, and it is as glorious as I imagined. He is incredibly hard, and it feels so good to have him inside me. The fullness that is my Stallion. He thrusts so passionately that I know it will not take me long to come. His perfect hands cup my breasts, and he leans down to wet my nipple with his tongue, gently blowing a soft breeze over it as it hardens. He smiles and says he loves when my nipples are hard, and then repeats the act again.

  I’m so close. I can feel the volcano erupting within me, and I am about to scream its release.

  “Sasha! WAKE THE HELL UP!” I’m ripped from my dream, forced back into reality. “Oh my goodness Sasha, wake up!” I hear again, and immediately recognize the voice. It was Betty, my 70-something neighbor. We had exchanged keys a few years ago, so that just in case there was a problem, we could get into each other’s apartments. Betty was afraid of falling and not being able to get up to open the door, or of accidently locking herself out. I just felt obligated to give her one of mine in return. I suddenly feel the urge to change my locks.

  “WHAT?” I scream at her.

  “I’m sorry dear; I came over to see if you had any milk. But then I heard you moaning, and I was starting to think that you were on your death bed over here.” Ah yes, the reason my food bill has gone up. Betty is on a fixed income, so when she needs to stretch out her social security check she would come over and “borrow” from my fridge. But I never seem to get paid back.

  “Oh, I’m sorry, it was just a dream, I guess.” I say as I turn toward the clock on my nightstand. The clock lets me know that it’s 10:00 am, and confirms that it’s too late to go back to sleep in the hopes of finishing my dream. Why the hell did I have to be such a vocal dreamer? I could still be with him now if I could just keep my dreams to myself.

  “Well, are you going to share your little dream with me? I could use some new material,” Betty says with a smile. No. Just, no.

  “No, there is nothing to tell. You woke me up just when it was about to get to the good part,” I say, looking at her with daggers in my eyes.

  “Well, excuse me. But from the way you have been moaning, it sounded like you had seen your happy ending several times over,” she says and walks away. Back to her own apartment, I hope.

  As I sit up in bed, I realize that it’s finally Friday. I took the weekend off so that I could get some things done before the beach party tomorrow. I slowly get out of bed and look at the massive pile of laundry taunting me in the corner of my bedroom. Between working at the bar and going out on a few really bad dates, I hadn’t done laundry in about a month. When I realized yesterday that the only underwear I had left in my drawer were the grandma panties that I reserved for that special week each month, I knew it was time to spend a day cleaning.

  This week had been the slowest one of my life, the bar had been dead all week, and time seemed to stand still. Plus, the tips sucked. The only joy this week had brought was thinking of Stallion Man. I have dreamt about him every night, and have woken up disappointed each morning. I so wish I had gotten his name that day. Who knows if George would ever come into the bar again? I mean, that kind of out of character behavior was bound to stop him from ever showing his face again. Or maybe because of it he would end up in some nursing home where they won’t let him out to play. I don’t even know his last name or where to call and see how he is doing. I would obviously squeeze in a few questions about his hot grandson as well. I can just imagine that conversation. Hi George, it’s Sasha from the bar. Just thought I would call to check in on you and see how single your grandson is? I mean, see if he got you home ok? Yeah, that would work.

  After I finish up washing and folding all my laundry, I call Megs and Sadie to make sure that they are still picking me up tomorrow for the beach party. I have been looking forward to it all week long. Maybe I will find a new stud to focus on. One who I can actually talk to while I’m awake.

  I have been obsessing over him, and it’s not doing me any good. The chances of us seeing each other again are pretty slim, and even if I was to get his number, how do I start that conversation? Um hi, my name is Sasha. Your grandfather tried to teach my friends and me a few things in a bar, but I was hoping that you would be willing to teach me a thing or two about being satisfied. Yeah, that would go over like a fart in church. But he is a guy, so he would probably be willing to drop trou and give it to me whenever I asked. Well, only if he doesn’t already have a girlfriend, that is.

  I facepalm myself and realize that I hadn’t even considered that he probably does have a girlfriend. He must be attached already the good ones always are. I mean, no man that good looking can be single. Or straight.

  I want to drop back onto my bed and cover myself up with my She-Ra sheets. Yes, I have She-Ra sheets. Don’t judge. I have had them for years and am proud of them. They remind me not to take life too seriously, and that it’s ok to have some fun.

  I WAKE UP TO MY phone violently beeping, telling me that I have a text message. Probably several of them. I am disappointed that Stallion Man didn’t visit me again last night, but am a little relieved that I’m not waking up full of sweat and longing for more. I roll over slowly and grab my phone. Even though I’ve been waiting for this day all week, I’m sluggish to get up. Cleaning really takes a lot out of a girl.

  Sadie: T-Minus 2 hours to party time. Get your legs and vajayjay shaved, and Sasha, don’t forget those pits!!! No one wants to see the Sasquatch in you.

  Megan: ROFL yeah Sasha, we don’t need the French experience again.

  Sadie: Hey Megan, Will wants Matt to bring his beer bong. Says it is time to break it out again.

  Megan: HELL YES!!!!! Beer bong is a must, I will make sure to bring it.

  Sadie: We are going to stop at the liquor store after we pick everyone up.

  Megan: Oh we are bringing the mini
grill too, so bring food. Don’t want to drink our lunch and dinner only to have it come back up.

  Sadie: Good call!!!!

  Sadie: SASHA, WAKE THE FUCK UP!!! You have to get ready!!!

  Sadie: Sasha, don’t make me hurt you.

  You would think that they had been texting me for hours to get up, when in reality it was more like ten minutes. I was still too tired to type, so I use my talk-to-text feature and say, “Guys I’m awake so chill the fuck out. I will be ready in like half an hour. Text when you get here.” I hit send and then read it.

  Sasha: grils im a wookie so till the funky out I will be ready in a look a hair hour.

  I can almost hear the loud gorilla-like laughs they are most likely bellowing out as they read it. I should really stop sending voice texts out without proofreading them first.

  I jump in the shower and do a fantastic job of shaving, as you never know who you will see at a beach party. When I’m done, I jump out and dry off. I walk over to my closet to carefully select the perfect bathing suit. I need to make sure that my B cups are shown off just enough to keep attention, but not enough to give a show. I inspect a hot pink and turquoise bikini top that has some really cute plastic rings in the straps, and decide it will do well paired with matching hot pink bottoms that tie on the sides.

  I’m just putting my hair up when I hear the buzzer ring. I press the talk button and say, “I’ll be down in a second!” I grab my mini-cooler that works well for boating adventures, along with my beach bag, and head downstairs.

  Outside in front of my building, Megan is standing next to the truck, holding the door open for me. “Hey Wookie, how’s it going?” she asks with a tinge of a smile.

  I shoot her a look that says I am aware of my poor texting skills, and that we do not need to rehash the conversation.