It was a typical neighborhood joint. It had a U-shaped bar with stools at the sides and standing room in the middle. There was a small dance floor that was seldom used except on weekend nights. There were perhaps twenty tables and a few booths around the dance floor.
The music leaned towards the oldies and so did the clientele. The Bee Gees triggered a swarm of people to the dance floor. It was a perfect fit for me.
The place also featured a spectacular bartender named Alana. She was a tall redhead with large tits and an athletic body. On most nights she was easily the best looking woman in the place. She was also as cold as ice.
She was very efficient, able to remember what everyone drank after a couple of orders but she never chatted with customers and seldom smiled. On busy nights she had two very fine looking young ladies behind the bar with her. Sitting at the bar and watching them work was more than enough entertainment for me.
I chose the last stool on the left side of the bar for my home base. It allowed me to see the entrance and half of the dance floor. The problem was that I felt that I was in someone's seat so I moved over to the next stool.
I ordered a beer and settled in to people watch. During the evening I chatted with a few people, watched the ebb and flow of the crowd and enjoyed the music. That was to become my pattern most evenings.
After a few weeks I could tell who were the players, the posers, the desperate. I had a feel for who to avoid and whom I would like to get to know better. Alana was at the top of the last list and I was making some headway on that front. I treated her politely, never tried to get her attention when she was busy, I allowed her all the time she needed to decide about me.
I was at the bar an average of three nights a week although never on Saturday nights. The place had a cheap steak night on Tuesdays, Ladies night on Wednesdays, and live bands on some Thursdays or Fridays.
I usually arrived before the big crowds did and left as the crowd reached its peak. I had a self-imposed three-beer limit although I seldom finished the third.
Within a couple of weeks Alana would have my beer at the bar before I was much past the entrance. Within a month I had a tab running before I got around to securing it with a credit card. Within two months I noticed I was not paying for every drink. A cup of coffee would appear at my spot before my third beer was consumed.
When I first started frequenting the place Alana worked the standing room end of the bar. She had switched to my side of the bar somewhere along the way. I hoped it was for my benefit but sincerely doubted it.
On slow nights Alana would come over to my end to relax. Sometimes I would ask her about a particular patron and she seemed to know everyone's secrets. I was pleased that she chatted with me.
One night a patron that was picking up some drinks from her told me that I was barking up the wrong tree, (meaning Alana). I answered that it was the right tree since all I wanted was the shade.
That amazingly bad line took me into Alana's inner circle.
She smiled and laughed for me. She steered me in the direction of easy fucks and steered me away from the head cases and the married ones. On the days that I was extra early I would take her a flower. She actually blushed the first time I did that. I also got my first kiss from her. We became good friends.
After six or seven months, however, I had not asked for her phone number, never waited for her at closing. Something told me she was not ready.
There was also a mystery to be solved. The stool next to me, the one I thought was occupied on my first night there, was always empty. Some people would sit in it briefly but soon moved on. Even on the most crowded nights it stayed unoccupied. One slow night I asked Alana about it and she startled me by saying it was haunted.
She said, "Meredith used to sit there. She was a regular for about three years. Very pretty little bubbly blonde. Every one loved her. She was a close friend of mine. I worried about her choice in men and her occasional choice of women. She took many chances.
Sometimes she would just ask a guy if he wanted to fuck, go to the parking lot with him and fuck him in her car. The guy usually went home but she would come back and tell me all about it. She was very open, very bold.
Last Halloween she went out with a guy in a Batman costume. She was wearing a Cat Woman costume. She did not come back in to tell me about the tryst and I worried about her but was too busy to go look for her.
Next thing I know the cops and the paramedics were all over the parking lot. She and Batman were killed by a single shot that went through him and into her. They were in the middle of a fuck. A couple that had stepped out to fuck too found them.
The cops interviewed everyone here, me twice. It was seven AM before I could close. Someone said they thought they saw a woman speeding out of the parking lot. The killer was never found.
The first night we re-opened after the murders the regulars avoided her stool in deference to Meredith. After all, many of the men and a few of the women had fucked Meredith in the parking lot themselves.Meredith had a piece of many hearts.
After a while I noticed that new patrons moved away from it just as you did. They all said the same thing; they expected someone to return to that seat momentarily. The regulars are positive it is haunted."
As she told her story I saw that she was working hard to keep her composure. I could also see that she was holding back information.
A customer down the bar called her and while she was dealing with him I had a chance to think about the whole story. I did not believe in ghosts and did not think Alana did either.
I had often bought drinks for ladies who struck my fancy, often with no intention of making a move on them. Most of those times I asked Alana not to tell the lady who bought her the drink. Alana thought that was weird of me.
When she returned to my spot I asked her what Meredith usually drank.
"Margarita on the rocks with two extra slices of lime on the side." She said.
"I need one more beer and bring Meredith a drink too," I said.
For a second I thought I saw a tear form in Alana's eye but she turned and quickly brought me my beer. After placing the beer on the bar she paused and looked at me. I nodded confirmation and she went to fix Meredith her drink.
When she returned she carefully laid out two napkins, placed the drink on one and two slices of lime on the other. She fussed with the placement for a bit then suddenly jumped halfway over the bar, grabbed me by the ears and gave me a fierce kiss. As she walked away tears were streaming from her eyes.
That would become the second most talked about incident at the bar. From that night on people assumed I was Alana's guy and could not get laid at all.
On my next trip to the bar Alana brought my beer as usual and waited expectantly for a word from me. I nodded and she brought Meredith her drink. That became the routine. I did eventually notice that only Meredith's drink appeared on my tab.
Halloween approached. A costume contest was announced. Alana seemed more and more subdued as the date approached.
In answer to my question " Are you working that night?' she answered, "Yes, have to. I own the joint".
I had suspected that but I had never asked and she had not volunteered the information until then.
