Working With The Girls Ch 01

When I first moved to Florida, I took a job as a bartender for several reasons. One, it was what I had done back home in Pittsburgh at a small college bar near Carnegie-Mellon University. Two, I have always been a night owl so staying out late was second nature to me. And third, I tend to be pretty social, always talking to people, telling stories, and flirting with the girls. The constant stream of college aged girls, sorority chicks, and young married women out on the town created a feeding frenzy that kept me chasing tail all year long back in the Iron City. Between the bar's cocktail waitresses and their married friends looking for some discreet action, I felt like I was getting my share.

But in Florida, things were different. When I arrived, I was twenty three, knew no one, and was in danger of yanking off my cock from pulling myself around the room out of lack of company. I fell back on the old adage that says "that you go with what you know" and decided that some of the girls I worked with might be prime candidates for dates. I already knew them, only had to go to work to see them, and several of them were in the age range that I usually went for at that time. Several of the girls that worked in the restaurant were pretty nice looking, but the problem was the crappy uniforms that they had to wear while waiting tables. These things looked like old curtains from a Denny's that was about to be torn down before somebody salvaged them and turned them into the shapeless blouses and skirts that these poor women had to wear. One of my favorite daydreams involved Angela, a tall thirty year old waitress. I desperately wanted to check her out, but that uniform stymied my attempts to ogle her figure.

As I became friendly with Angela, this unflattering outfit was the subject of several of our conversations. She would come to the bar, which had to double as the service bar for the restaurant when it wasn't busy during the day, and take the opportunity to visit with somebody who wasn't demanding anything from her. Her contention was that many waitresses "show off the goods" as a way to help earn more tips but that the blouse and skirt she'd been given did nothing to show off her boobs or legs, both features that she was apparently proud of. The skirt, which hung below her knees, hid her long legs. This coupled with the black athletic shoes that they wore while running busily through the morning rush, left her feeling frumpy and unattractive. As our friendship grew, this uniform and what it did to her self-image was a constant theme of our conversations. As she grew more comfortable with me, she began to ask my opinion of her look. I replied that I didn't know if it was proper for me to tell her what I thought, since that kind of talk is frowned upon in the work place.

"But, I'm asking you what you think. I don't care about suing the resort for the 'hostile working environment' created by the bartender telling me what he thinks about my looks."

"But Angela, it's not the resort's policies that I'm worried about. It's your reaction that concerns me." After she gave me a puzzled look, I continued, "I could say what I think about your appearance, but I don't want you to think that I think of you that way. I try to treat my friends with respect, and I'm afraid that all would end if the truth about how you look to me was put into words."

She leaned towards where I was standing at the bar and with a wry smile said, "Honey, if you were going to get slapped, I would have done it weeks ago. You've been watching me since you started here. I catch you every once in a while, but the other girls tell me all the time about the fascination you seem to have with watching me walk. Do you like my legs?" she asked teasingly.

I must have turned red, because she gave a little laugh, picked up the Bloody Mary that I'd made for some tourist's breakfast, and hustled off to deliver it. I thought that I detected a little extra sway to her hips as that magnificent ass walked away from me across the lobby towards the restaurant. As I started to drift into a daydream about what the tall German girl and I might do if given the chance, I caught a movement out of the corner of my eye. The young girl who worked the snack bar had caught the whole scene from behind the windows of her counter. "Now I know who's been telling her about my secret crush on her." I thought. That little brunette, Paula, seemed quiet and reserved, but apparently when I wasn't around she'd been doing her share of talking with Angela. I filed that away in case it ever came up again and went back to imagining what Angie must look like without the formless uniform that hid her beguiling curves.

Well, her visits to the bar were pretty regular. Even when the diners who ordered drinks with their breakfasts weren't in her section, the other waitresses would give Angela the ticket and let her come pick up the drink so she could spend time with me. Apparently they all were talking about my interest in her over there. I didn't mind because I enjoyed getting to know her.

She had come to America when she was only 15, and after fifteen years and two children, found herself single again and trying to raise the kids on her own with only her older sister's occasional help around the house. Olga had arrived here later and been in the country for less time so that even though she was older than Angela, her English was not as good. Where Angela was tall, slim, and sleek like a German Olympic runner, Olga was softer with more curves to her hips and breasts. But the gruff exterior that she presented always made me cringe when she was around. Her guttural language, unsmiling demeanor, and low tolerance of her sister's friends always made me wonder if it was possible to melt that Teutonic attitude. Olga rarely visited her sister at work and if she did and found Angela in the bar speaking with me, she always made a point to speak in German to her sister and would glance deridingly at me to make sure that I knew that I was being purposely excluded.

Later, when the oft-discussed topic of earning better tips came up again, Angela pressed me for the opinion that I had held back several weeks before. Trying to maintain a gentlemanly demeanor towards her, I again hesitated to describe what I thought of the great body she was hiding beneath that shapeless costume. "David," she said with that beautiful accent, "what do you think? Why won't you tell me what you think about me?"

"Angie, I could tell you, but it might not come out in a gentlemanly manner."

"You can tell me. I'm a big girl. Do you want to ask me out? Do you like my body?" As she said this, she made a little turn that caused her skirt to ride up above her knees. When she turned back toward me, she caught me checking out her legs. "Go on. Tell me that you like my legs...if you do. Don't you think I could earn some better tips if people could see them?"

I told her that certainly she could, but I didn't know if she was willing to wear heals all day while serving orange juice and toast. When she looked at me questioningly, I explained that her long legs would be wonderfully accentuated by a pair of black pumps rather than the cheap black athletic shoes with flat heels that she normally ran around in. If she was to look slightly sexier, she might make better tips from the men who paid their families' tabs in the café. It was like a light bulb going off above her head. She lit up and exclaimed, "That's it; I can do that. I like to wear heels when I'm not at work, but I never have a reason to wear them. I'm going to try it."

The next few days were probably hell on her legs and feet, but they were even harder on the trousers of my uniform. I worked to stay behind the bar to hide the constant hard on that those fantastic legs caused me to develop. Once, when the bar was slow, I considered going into the back store room to jack off. Watching the change in her attitude and the added length and definition of her slender legs had me so horny that if I wouldn't have been afraid of getting caught, I would have covered the back walls with semen.

I was so distracted by trying to catch glimpses of her across the lobby that I completely missed my boss walking in the other door to the bar. Since I was standing in profile to Amy, my hard on must have been very visible in my pants. When I heard the door shut automatically behind her, I was startled and turned toward the sound. There stood the tall food and beverage manager staring at me while trying to suppress a laugh. As she quickly looked away from my bulging crotch, I started to explain but realized that there was no explanation for standing in an empty bar staring at a hot blond with a raging erection. The awkward moment was ended when Angie walked into the bar and announced that she needed two Screwdrivers for one of her tables.

As I mixed the drinks, Angie watched Amy move about the bar as she checked to see that I had done all of my prep and side work. Angie seemed to be watching how our manager moved in her short skirt and high heels. Amy always dressed very professionally but did nothing to hide her awesome figure that she had earned by playing volleyball all through high school and later, on the beaches on her days off. It was fascinating to see how Angela took in everything about Amy's purposeful strut and the way that her hips moved beneath her skirt. I watched this all in the back bar's mirror while I poured the orange juice over the vodka. It wasn't that I thought Angela had bisexual tendencies, but that she was trying to learn by watching how the authority figure in the red high heels and skirt used what natural assets she'd been given. As I finished up, Amy walked closely by Angela and whispered something in passing to her. Angela's smile and downward glance hinted that it might be about me.

When Amy's curvy shape had disappeared around the corner, I carried the drinks to Angela and placed them on her tray. "Was she talking about me?" I asked.

"No, she didn't say anything about you. She told me that she appreciated having a waitress working for her who wanted to dress professionally." My raised eyebrow prompted her to add, "She says that I look good in heels." I told her that I agreed and wondered aloud whether it was getting her better tips. She said that indeed it had because she felt like not only were men looking at her, but that her tips had gone way up in the days since she'd been wearing the high heels. I told her that what was really causing the new interest in her was the constant smile and energetic attitude that she brought to her job. "You seem happier but I think it's because you feel sexier." I told her.

"You're probably right; I do feel sexier. Why don't you take me out tonight?" she impulsively added. It surprised me but I couldn't deny her. "Hell yeah, I'll take you out. I've wanted to ask you out for weeks but between your sister not liking me and the time you spend with your kids, I was afraid you didn't have time for a social life. Plus, once you knew what I thought of you physically, I was afraid that I'd messed up whatever chances I might have had at getting to date you."

"Why date when we can go to my place and we'll see what happens?" she laughingly retorted. "Olga is watching the kids tonight, I'm going to cook something simple, and then we're going to watch TV. Besides, who cares if Olga likes you; I do and that's what matters." My surprise at her directness and pre-planning of an evening with me made her laugh. "Don't worry. It'll be great. I'll dress sexy for you." She pecked me quickly on the cheek and before I could react, she was gone.

I thought my cock would explode through the bar from watching her walk away and the thoughts of what was to come, but I stood still and tried not to get caught with a hard on by anybody else walking unexpectedly into the bar. Knowing that Paula was probably watching from behind the snack bar's tinted windows helped me remain nonchalant.

That night, I arrived at her house which was nestled on a cul de sac in a quiet neighborhood. When she opened the door, her smile and greeting only served to make my constant hard on even harder. She was wearing a pair of red heels now, a short black skirt, and a simple white blouse with buttons up the front. What distracted me from taking in any more of her elegance was the fact that her beautiful tits were unrestrained by a bra. They visibly moved independently of each other beneath the sheer white fabric and the light pink of her stiff nipples was clearly tenting the fabric above each lovely breast. She caught me staring and smiled radiantly. "Come in and have your sandwich." she said. "Olga picked up the kids twenty minutes ago and I've been trying to wait patiently for you." Her long, blond hair hung about her shoulders and framed her fair skin and blue eyes perfectly. We ate bacon sandwiches and sipped cokes while imagining what the coming night would bring. For my part, I was slightly nervous and stared at her. She was older than me and a lot more direct about what she wanted than any of the women closer to my age that I had been with.

She finished her sandwich and turned in her chair to let her crossed legs come into view from beneath the table. As one of the heels dangled suggestively from her toes, she looked questioningly at me and said, "I asked you earlier and you didn't answer. Do you like my legs?"

"Of course I do. What's not to like? You're beautiful and you know it. Your attitude about everything is contagious. You're a happy person and that makes you hot. I love your long legs, those sexy heels, and the way they make your butt move when you walk. I couldn't imagine you being able to make me hornier than I am right now."

"Well, then let's go into the living room. I'm pretty interested in you too." As she said this, she stood up and started walking towards the living room. She unbuttoned the top button of the blouse and stopped there, hinting that uncovering anything else would have to be done by me. Her look said volumes and I moved to her. I took her in my arms for the first time and it felt like she was on fire. I've never felt someone so hot. I wasn't sure which of us would melt first.

I kissed her, hesitantly at first, but we both became more aggressive, our mouths devouring each other, our tongues exploring the other's mouth, and hands roaming over the other's body. As I unfastened the buttons of her blouse, our trembling impatience got the better of us. I found my belt, zipper, and pants being roughly tugged at while simultaneously, I worked to free those beautiful, fleshy globes from their confining blouse. As each tit was exposed, I hungrily sucked and nibbled at it. Her back arched and whimpers came from deep in her throat.

She briefly halted my suckling to push me down onto the couch in a sitting position. While I shucked off my pants from where they had pooled at my ankles, she stared straight at me and lowered the blouse from her shoulders. It hung limply around her waste, tucked in to the tasteful skirt. Man, was she hot! I sat back and watched, preparing for a night that would be one I would not soon forget. As she reached to pull the white linen blouse from where it was tucked in, we both heard a knock on the door. Startled, Angela pulled the blouse back over her shoulders and composed herself. "Wait here." she commanded. "Don't get dressed; I'll be right back."

At the door two rooms away, I heard urgent whispering. I couldn't understand it, since it was in German, but Olga was back and she had Angie's kids with her. At last I heard Angie say, "Alright then, let's bring them in. I'll put the little sleepy heads in their beds." I caught a quick glimpse of Angela carrying her daughter on her hip towards the back of the house as she passed the living room doorway. In her bare feet, she padded silently past and sneaked a quick look at me where I tried to cover my erection with my pants. When I heard her coming back down the hall to get her son, she was softly singing a lullaby in German. She took the little boy from Olga's arms and said, "I'll just put him in there with his sister and I'll come back to say goodbye to you." I heard Olga say something in German but didn't think anything of it as I figured Angela had told her disapproving sister to stay at the door where she couldn't see me.

As Angie sang her way down the hall with her son, the little guy woke up and started talking to her. He was confused and scared but his mother reassured him and resumed softly singing to him. I wondered how long it would take her to put him down for the night because with the "evil sister" in the outer hallway, I was afraid of losing my hard on. I gave it a couple of quick strokes and convinced myself that it would be ready to pound Angela silly if she ever got done putting the kids to bed and getting rid of her sister. As a drop of pre-cum appeared on the head, I looked over at the opening to the living room and there stood Olga.

I froze. Sure that she was going to come over and punch me in the balls or yell something about me to her sister, I looked up at her like a student who's been caught masturbating to a picture of his female teacher. She looked down at my hard cock and my hand grasping it tightly at its base and muttered something that I didn't understand. She dropped her purse behind her, looked quickly down the hall for her sister, and crossed the distance between us. Now I knew that the moment of truth was literally at hand. Whispering to me in German, she knelt quickly and engulfed my raging penis in her mouth. A few quick pumps of her head and she had me in her mouth up to the base. Those pouty red lips stretched wide to accommodate my girth but she was able to get it all in; I even felt the head push past the entrance to her throat. "Now this is head I could get used to!" I thought while worrying what Angie would say if she was to walk back into the room and find her sister's head in my lap.

I didn't have to wonder long, because just when I was starting to move my hips in anticipation of shooting a huge load down her throat, she abruptly pulled up, wiped her lips on the back of her hand and smiled at me. As she stood up, she said in English, "Save that for her, ok?" Then she walked out of the room, picked up her purse, and disappeared from sight around the corner. I heard the front door shut and the car start a few seconds later just as I heard the bedroom door at the end of the hallway close. Angie padded into the room, still softly singing the lullaby that she'd used to put the boy to sleep. I barely had time to ponder what had just happened, because Angie got back down to business quickly.

"Where were we?" she asked as the gossamer white blouse again slipped past her shoulders and those pert nipples crowning her wonderful breasts stiffened in the cool air of the room. I simply smiled and looked down at my hard cock, still wet with her sister's saliva. I jacked the length of it a few times while she stared intently at it and I waved it menacingly in her direction just to see her reaction. If possible, the head turned an angrier shade of purple as Angela dropped the blouse to the floor. Her tits were perfect; not too large, not too small. They sat atop her trim body like two halves of grapefruit and she pulled gently at both nipples to tease me since she was still out of my reach. Turning away from me coyly, she backed up towards me and looked over her shoulder at me. "Get the zipper please. Hurry! I'm starting to get really horny." As I reached for the zipper of her skirt, I pulled down gently with one hand while the other stealthily reached up under it and gently tickled her inner thigh. "How do you think I feel then?" I asked, "I've been sitting here on the couch nearly naked with an unused hard on while you carry children around here and your hot-but disapproving-sister is standing at the door."