Luckily for her, Angela had the next two days off from her job in the hotel's café. I say "luckily", because she later told me that she'd felt so completely split in two by the previous night's anal sex that she'd tried to stay in bed all day, on her stomach of course, and watch TV. She'd had anal intercourse before, but apparently the father of her children was a smaller man than me, a fact that I later always repeated to her while laughing down my sleeve. My digs at her ex, even though he wasn't there to hear them, always forced her to blush and laugh slightly. We spoke on the phone at some point nearly halfway through my shift and she joked that even though she was uninjured, she was going to need some recovery time before we became "vigorous" again.
For myself, I spent the rest of the day checking out girls at the pool through my bar's large windows. The difference between this time and every other time I did it though was that I was not worried about being caught in the act by my new bed partner. As I gazed at several attractive Brazilian women I felt my cock stirring in my pants. They never failed to wear very skimpy bikini bottoms over their rounder-than-most-American butts. The motion of all of those asses and the knowledge of what I'd done last night with Angela's ass had me rock hard as I watched. As usual, there was no one in the bar. Who would sit inside in a dark bar on such a beautiful Florida day?
I turned away from the window and there stood Amy, the food and beverage department's manager. She simply smiled at me and waited for me to explain what I was doing. I figured no explanation was necessary and smiled back as if to challenge her to begin the conversation. She walked past me to the window and looked out on the scene of families (and young, jiggly Brazilian girls) splashing in the pool. I stood behind her silently and watched her watch them.
She had been an assistant manager when I'd been hired, but when the man who hired me moved on, she'd been promoted. Several people in the department, the head chef and the sous chef especially, seemed resentful of the fact that a woman younger than them was now their boss. For her part, Amy kept her head up and dug in to do the best job that she could. It did not always make her popular among the staff, but I understood the position she'd been put in and treated her with respect.
I'd noticed in my six months of working at the resort that very rarely, the young girl in her was allowed to show through. I considered myself lucky to have seen it a few times.
Once, when a bartender left the resort, everyone on the F & B staff who could get the night off went to an impromptu party thrown at a nearby resort down the road. After the group had imbibed a couple of drinks, the leaders of the party decided that we all would be a little more comfortable at a smaller, more intimate place. We headed en masse towards a small dive bar further away from the tourist area, one in which many of the local hotel employees relaxed after long shifts on their feet. The clientele was more local and the drinks were cheaper.
After about two hours of the festivities at this new place, the group had grown smaller. Some of the usual suspects paired up and left, others just left to get home to spouses, but about eight of us were left sitting in a large padded booth in a dark corner. I found myself between Amy and Paula, a younger girl who worked in the snack bar. I figured that as I got used to my new home and job in Florida, I would grow to understand the social conventions of southern girls, but for now I sipped a coke and listened to them talk. I listened quietly and deferred to my boss so as not to appear too talkative. Paula also sat quietly and listened to the other loudmouths cutting up after too many drinks.
As I looked at Paula, I noticed what a pretty girl she was. I usually didn't pay attention to her at work, because like the rest of us, her uniform didn't do much for her shape. In her casual clothes though, she was a little knockout. A fitted blouse tapered down to a slim waste and designer jeans that hugged her curves. A pair of open toed high heeled sandals completed her look, one that I found very attractive. At work, she looked like a shy, fifteen year old but out on the town, she was every bit the smart-dressing, hot, twenty one year old. I found myself thinking about what my move would be and the look in her eyes told me that it might be welcome.
When Amy put a hand on my arm and said, "Come on Dave. Walk your boss out to her car. I'm going home," I thought I saw an extremely disappointed look on Paula's face. I got up from the table, surprised by the request from our boss. I walked away from the pretty twenty one year old to escort our boss to our car. I looked back at Paula as if to say, "What can I do? She's the boss." Hoping I'd be right back, I clearly had no idea what Amy had in mind.
While we walked, I realized that Amy had had too much to drink as evidenced by her slight weaving as we walked down the long hallway to the outside doors. She hooked her arm in mine, an act which placed the back of my hand against one of Amy's big breasts. "Mmmmmm," she hummed when she realized that I was touching her. The woman's other hand kept my hand tightly in place so I couldn't move it if I'd wanted to avoid the contact. To fend off my impending erection, I kept reminding myself that Amy had a fiancé who was bigger, older, and meaner than me. On one hand, she shouldn't be driving; on the other, I shouldn't be touching her.
My responsible bartender's sensibilities won out. I stopped her before she could get the keys in the door of her car and took them from her. "Amy, I don't think you should drive. Could you stay and talk with me?" I asked.
Her eyes lit up, "I would like that. But why don't we go somewhere we can talk?"
"Ames, I don't think that's a good idea."
Her insistence was disarming. I've been around girls who want what they want when they want it, and Amy was certainly not in the mood to be denied. She poured on every trick she knew to break me down. She was like a large, predatory feline on the hunt. I must have been breathing in a cloud of her pheromones, as it was extremely difficult to avoid her advances. I contented myself with watching the show and sneaking the occasional peek down her button down blouse. It was open from the collar down to the third button and a heavenly expanse of slightly freckled flesh jiggled there, barely contained by her lacy bra.
Amy asked again, "Why don't you just drive me home and we can talk there?"
All I could think about was the flurry of rumors that would fly around the resort if I didn't walk back into the bar soon. It would be a blow to her credibility as the boss if I left with her and for my part I didn't want everyone talking to me about my night with her either. If Amy and I were ever to hook up, it was going to need to be extremely discreet.
"I'll tell you what Amy: I'm going to take your keys and hold on to them. But I will give you a choice of what I will do. You're not driving so I can either call you a cab or I can go back inside and eventually convince someone to follow us to your house. They can bring me back here to my car after you're safely at home."
"But..." she began.
"No buts Amy. You're not driving and that's that. I guess a third option would be for you to sit out here and sober up. I'm not leaving any time soon, so in a couple of hours, if you can convince me that you're up to it, I might give you back your keys."
"Well, see if anybody wants to follow us home. I'll wait here." I couldn't help but think that the way she'd phrased that was deliberate, but couldn't act on it either way right then. In any case, she clumsily tried to swing her legs into the passenger side of the car and ended up flashing me with a quick glimpse of her white panties. I shook it off and headed back inside.
When I returned, Paula's face lit up seeing that I had not left with Amy. I sat back down next to her. "I'm glad you're back," she whispered so that our co-workers couldn't hear, "these people are drunken idiots and I was afraid you were going to leave me alone with them."
"It's not that easy," I told her. I quickly explained the situation and how it was important to me that Amy not be embarrassed about her condition in public. "If we can leave discreetly so that nobody knows what we're doing, that'd be great," I continued.
"A gentleman, huh? I hope somebody like you is looking out for me if I ever get sloppy in public."
"Me too, young lady. Come on."
We said our goodbyes and walked out into the humid night air. Amy perked up when I slid into the driver's side of her Thunderbird and started it. We backed out into the road and headed towards her home which was only about four miles away. I asked if she was going to need the window down but she didn't want her hair messed up by the wind. I didn't think that she was close to vomiting but figured it would be worth asking.
Paula followed in her car and we soon were parked in Amy's driveway.
