Hell, Yeah

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My feet were killing me and my back ached as I struggled to hold a full case of beer with one arm while opening the door with the other.

“Hurry the hell up!” A gruff voice growled from behind me. Shooting a look over my shoulder I could see Shaun, my manager, juggling three heavy cases of beer.

“Damn,” I smiled, holding open the door between the storeroom and the darkened bar where we worked. “You make me look like a wimp.”

“You are.” Shaun said with all the straightforwardness he possessed. He dumped his cases of beer on the bar and reached to take mine. “I’ll fill the coolers if you do the paperwork.”

“Hell, yeah.” I grinned broadly, grabbing the calculator, tip jar, and cash drawer. I settled myself at the bar to muddle through the calculations; the musical clink of beer bottles and the dull thud of cooler doors opening and closing the only sound in the now empty bar.

No offence to customers, but closing time is really the best part of being a bartender. The dark, cool, and silent end of the night is what we live for, especially after a busy shift. It had been a particularly crazy Sunday. NFL Division finals had meant a full bar all afternoon and late into the evening, resulting in a steady stream of drink orders from both customers at the bar and the waitresses on the floor which turned into a veritable avalanche at halftime and between games.

Anyone who has ever worked bar knows how exciting it can be when the patrons are in a friendly and generous mood and you get the rhythm right. Bartending is like a crazy, hectic, hot, and stressful dance and most days I love it. Working with Shaun was a pleasure. He might be the manager, but he had no qualms about getting behind the bar to lend a hand; after four years of working together the two of us had established a rhythm when we were behind the taps which was smooth, efficient, and satisfying. I’d rather work with Shaun than anyone.

The columns of figures added up, the till balanced out, and the pile of tips to divide between the two of us was pleasantly large. All-in-all, it had been a great night.

The cool glass of a bottle of beer sliding into my hand drove numbers straight out of my head. I didn’t have to glance up to know it was an icy green bottle of Moosehead; my favourite.

“You, Sir, are a prince among men.” I looked up from my paperwork in time to see Shaun shoot me a cocky grin, his own bottle of Alexander Keith’s at his lips; tipping it back he took a long drink. “Cheers!” I laughed, and did the same. There is precious little in this world that can top that first swig of ice cold beer after a long, hard shift. I never understood the women who came into the bar and ordered cosmopolitans or daiquiris – give me a frosty, cold beer any day and I’m a happy girl.

Sighing, I tilted my head back, pulled out the elastic holding my ponytail in place, and relaxed. “That’s your half.” I said, pushing a pile of bills and change towards Shaun as he sat down on the barstool next to mine.

“Nice.” He settled back with a sigh of his own, shucking off his uniform golf shirt to reveal the Guinness t-shirt underneath. “How much?”


“Seriously? Holy shit!” Shaun grinned. “Good job.”

“Couldn’t have done it without you,” I admitted. “Thanks for the help.”

Shaun shrugged. “Gets me out of the office; got to watch a little football; no problem.”

I’d always liked his straightforward approach. Shaun was a man of few words, usually a little too serious, and always intently focussed during business hours. A lot of the wait staff didn’t like him, not just because he was a couple of years older than most of us, but because he actually took his job seriously, and was damn good at it too. Mac’s couldn’t function without Shaun, a fact that even Mac, the owner, would freely admit to. Once closing rolled around though, Shaun was generally the first to relax, kick back, and crack open a beer or two.

“Are all the other girls gone?” Shaun asked, looking over his shoulder at the dark and empty room behind us.

“Yup.” I took a pull of my beer. “It’s a Skinny Bitch-free zone.”

Shaun laughed gruffly. “I wish you wouldn’t call them that. They’re waitstaff.” He stressed the title with slight derision.

“They’re skinny bitches and you know it.” I laughed too. “Some of those girls don’t know the difference between a Manhattan and a Shirley Temple. I wish Mac would hire a waitress whose brain was actually bigger than her tits for once.”

“That’s why he has you.”

I punched Shaun playfully on the arm. “Thanks. And I will have you know there is nothing wrong with the size of my breasts.”

The cocky grin was back, paired with a flirtatious appraisal. “I know.”

“It’s these damn uniforms.” I pulled at the ugly navy blue fabric of my golf shirt. “They do nothing for a girl’s figure.”

“You could wear the waitstaff t-shirts.” Shaun suggested laughingly.

“Fat chance,” I snorted. Mac had bought the waitresses these little babydoll t-shirts which could give the ones worn ataşehir escort bayan by Hooter girls a run for their money. I’d never admitted to Shaun that I had tried one on once, but couldn’t get comfortable with having ‘Mac’s’ plastered tightly across my chest. On the Skinny Bitches they looked alright, but I outweighed the gaggle of size four waitresses by at least twenty pounds, so I stuck to the golf shirts worn by the male staff; they at least were comfortable, although much detested.

“Why are you still wearing the damn thing if you hate it so much?” Shaun asked, correctly guessing my frame of mind.

“Good point.” I laughed, drawing the golf shirt off as Shaun went behind the bar to grab two more beers; the first one always went down too quickly. It was much cooler in the dark bar with just my white tank top on, but it felt good to have the uniform off.

Seated again, Shaun passed me my fresh beer before reaching past me to grab the television remote. The warmth of his arm brushing mine made me jump; goosebumps rose on my skin.

Grinning broadly, Shaun sat back and turned on the television over the bar, turning up the volume on TSN. “I know, I know.” He sighed. “We watched football all day. We were working remember? I just want to see the highlights.”

“Okay,” I conceded. “But afterwards I want to know why you were such a grumpy bastard earlier in the shift.”

That drew a glare from Shaun, but he nodded curtly. He had been unusually grumpy when he’d first come in, slamming glasses down on the bar and just generally being a bear to everyone but the customers. After four years of working together I was accustomed to Shaun’s dark moods, and I’d even put up with them if he gave me a good reason to.

We sat in companionable silence, drinking our beer and watching football highlights; Shaun automatically explaining aloud the more complicated aspects of the game to me. He’d been trying to get me into football since we first met, and while my appreciation for the game had grown, I still didn’t really get it. That didn’t bother me as much as it did him, I was more of a hockey fan anyway, but I let him talk out the plays and decipher the calls for me; it seemed to relax him.

Once football highlights were over, TSN switched to basketball; Shaun hit mute and with a hand on the high backrest of my bar stool, swivelled me around to face him, our knees touching. His hazel eyes were serious. “Lisa and I broke up.”

“Ah, shit Shaun. Really? I’m sorry.”

He shrugged, reaching for his beer. He rolled the frosty bottle between his palms, eyes downcast.

“What a bitch, breaking up with you before you came in to work.” I patted Shaun’s knee, unsure how to be comforting to someone who usually kept their feelings pretty well hidden.

“Actually, it was three weeks ago.”

“Are you fucking kidding?” I gasped. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“It never came up. What was I supposed to say? ‘Hi, how are you? How was your day off? Did you see the game last night? Oh, and by the way, Lisa dumped my ass’?”

It was my turn to look hurt. “It would have been nice to know.” My retort sounded harsher in the dark, empty room than it should have. “I thought we were friends.”

“We are,” Shaun assured me, cracking a reluctant grin. “I’m better off without her anyway.”

I returned his smile. “Hell, yeah. So if it’s been three weeks why the grumpy bastard routine earlier today?”

“She called this afternoon.”

“What did she want? To get back together?” I took a long swig of my beer. I’d forgotten I had one.

“I don’t know. At first I thought that’s what she wanted, she was being all nice and sweet. Chatty.” He paused.


“And then she asked if I still had her U2 CD.”

“Fucking bitch.”

He laughed. “The bitchiest.”

“She’s the Queen Bitch.” I patted his knee again. “Don’t worry, there are plenty more bitches out there for you to chose from; in fact, a large number of them are employed here.”

Shawn shook his head. “Nope, no more Skinny Bitches for me.”

Laughing, I clinked my beer bottle against his. “Cheers to that!”

Shaun swivelled my stool around so I was facing the television again, but kept his arm slung across the back. We returned to watching sports highlights, this time with the volume off; the silence between us was comfortable. I leaned against the backrest of my bar stool; Shaun’s arm was solid and warm, his hand rested against my bare arm.

“You know what I miss the most?” Shaun asked after a time.

“Having someone to change the toilet paper roll?” I quipped, pleased by his deep rumble of laughter.

“Yeah, well other than that?” He waited for me to respond.

“I don’t know, what?”


“Kissing Lisa?”

“No, not really. I just miss kissing and having someone to kiss whenever I want.”

The admission left me speechless for a moment. Shaun had really hit home. My boyfriend and I had split three months prior and I’d been single ever since. escort kadıköy I certainly didn’t miss Peter, but I missed things about having a boyfriend. Like kissing.

“Do you miss Peter?” He asked, as if reading my mind. Shaun knew my ex only slightly and freely admitted to never having liked him.

“No.” I confessed. “Not anymore.” I glanced over at Shaun quickly before looking away. He was grinning again. “I do miss the oral sex though.”

My remark must have caught Shaun by surprise; he choked on his beer.

Laughing, I mopped up the beer he’d spilled on the bar with a few cocktail napkins. Shaun sat speechless, his hazel eyes wide.

“What?” I laughed. “I do.”

“I never thought I’d hear you say that,” Shaun admitted, when his breathing returned.

It was my turn to shrug. “Once you’ve been single for a while, you’ll agree with me.”

“Fuck. I’ve only been single three weeks and I already agree with you. Mind you, Lisa wasn’t too keen on that particular request anyway.”

“Aww. You poor man.” I shot Shaun a teasing grin. He laughed but said nothing. The silence stretched between us again, still as relaxed as earlier despite the fact we’d just been discussing oral sex. For some reason, even though we’d never been there before, the changing tack of our conversation seemed natural. Maybe it was the beer.

It should have been weird sitting in the dark with Shaun’s arm around me, but it wasn’t. I was nice actually, very nice. We’d been friends and co-workers for so long, as comfortable in our silences as I’d ever been with any guy. Truthfully, I liked Shaun much better than most of the guys I’d dated. He was solid, dependable, and damn funny at times. Plus, he brought me cold beer, knew exactly what to say when I’d had a bad day, and never made me feel inferior because I didn’t look like the Skinny Bitches. In fact, there were times when I could almost think he was glad I didn’t.

“What is this?” I asked after a while, afraid to turn and look at him.

“What is what?” Shaun’s voice was more gruff than usual.

“This. Whatever this is, you know, between us. What is it?”

Shaun tightened his arm around me, swivelling my barstool so we faced each other again, knees bumping. His other arm wound around me too, caressing the length of my bare arm, raising goosebumps. “I don’t know.” He admitted, the look on his face earnest for a moment before changing, warming. A mischievous spark lit in his hazel eyes. “Want to find out?”

“Hell, yeah.”

Later we would argue as to who kissed who first. I’d never admit to him that it was me, but to be honest, it was. His lips were smooth, warm; his kiss tentative at first. The touch of his tongue against my teeth set us off. I’d never been kissed by any guy the way Shaun was kissing me; he was demanding, provoking, intense. I forgot to breathe.

His grip around my waist tightened, our kiss deepened. His hands were everywhere, the length of my spine, the bend of my waist, the curve of my hips. I plunged my own hands into his wavy brown hair, moaning through the kiss. Suddenly it was warm in the bar, much too warm. I was practically sitting on his lap.

“Fuck.” Shaun panted, breaking the kiss with a gasp. “If I’d known you kissed like that, I’d have done it long ago.” The cocky grin was plastered on his face. Laughing, I traced the rough stubble along his jaw. “We can’t do this here,” he smiled, leaning forward to drop a path of kisses along the length of my neck. I arched against him, all but purring. I love when guys kiss my neck.

“The office?” I gasped through the ragged lump in my throat. I was so excited I wasn’t sure I could stand.

Shaun helped me off my barstool, leading me through the doors into the back hallway and then into the office he shared with Mac, his wide hands cradling the expanse of my hips; I could feel the heat of his grip through my jeans. The light in the office was harsh, the fluorescent glare casting both of us in a sickly greenish glow. Frowning, Shaun turned the overhead lights off, then crossed the room to his small desk in the corner and flicked on his desk lamp. In the soft glow the office was much more welcoming; the beat up old sofa Mac refused to throw away spanned the length of one wall. It was ragged and ugly as sin, but damn comfortable; we’d all napped on it at one time or another.

Shaun sat down on the sofa, pulling me down to straddle him; we resumed our frenzied kissing. I hadn’t made out on a couch with a guy since high school; it felt naughty and fun at the same time. If my head hadn’t been swimming with Shaun’s kisses, I would have laughed.

My hands were threaded in Shaun’s hair, his wandered along with curve of my hips and waist before brushing against my breasts; I moaned encouragement. Chuckling in his throat, Shaun ran the pad of his strong thumbs across my nipples; the shock and pleasure of the contact made me arch my back.

“You like that?” Shaun laughed, gasping as I broke our kiss. I nodded wordlessly. “I want to see them. Take maltepe escort your shirt off.”

Shifting my position I obeyed, pulling the white tank top off with an enthusiastic yank. Shaun’s hazel eyes widened at the sight of my D-cup breasts in a lacy white bra. The expression on his face was one of awed disbelief which made me grin. He ran his large hands over the white lace; my nipples hardening even more at his touch.

“You should not hide these beneath those damn golf shirts.” Shaun murmured before lowering his head to run a line of kisses across my clavicle. “I’m voting for a change of uniform.”

I shook my head, rendered momentarily speechless by his hot breath against my body and the possessive appreciation on his face. “The little t-shirts didn’t fit,” I gasped as his tongue made contact with my right nipple through the lace of my bra. “I tried, too tight.”

Shaun’s laugh was a deep rumble I could feel all the way to my toes. He laved my nipple for a time, flicking the hot tip of his tongue against it. “I would have loved to see that.”

“I bet,” I teased, running my hands across the broad expanse of his shoulders as he sucked at one breast while flicking the nipple of the other with his thumb. “You perv.”

Biting gently at my hardened nipple, Shaun laughed. Straddling him as I was I could feel the length of his hard cock beneath his jeans. I wiggled my hips; he groaned, clutched my ass and pulled me closer, diverting his attention from my tits back to my mouth.

Distracted by the urgent kiss, I didn’t notice he’d undone my bra until he slid the straps from my shoulders. Shaun leaned back against the couch, pulling my bra off as he did. He sat silently studying my bared breasts for a moment before grinning broadly and palming their weight with his large hands. The heat of his skin against mine made me moan.

“Damn,” he murmured shakily. “I’ve been fantasizing about these for four years. They’re even better than I thought they would be.” His voice had morphed into a low growl.

His touch had me writhing on top of him, grinding hard against his lap. I could feel the damp heat between my legs; I was certain my panties were soaked. “You fantasize about me?”

“Hell, yeah.” Shaun ran his hands around to my spine and down to cup my ass, kneading it through my jeans.

“What about the Skinny Bitches?” I couldn’t help asking. “Do you fantasize about them?”

Shaun did growl this time, his face twisting into the grumpy scowl I recognized from earlier in the day. “I don’t want the fucking Skinny Bitches.” He ran his hands possessively over my ass, the curve between my hips and waist, the heavy roundness of my breasts. “I want you. I’ve always wanted you.” He grabbed the back of my neck and kissed me hard, driving the breath from my body.

If I had harboured even one tiny ounce of doubt about what we were doing it fled the moment his determined, lust-darkened eyes met mine through the kiss. I’d seen Shaun in every mood over the past four years, but I’d never seen him like this; he looked so incredibly sexy, a man who knew what he wanted and was determined to get it. I didn’t have the will to argue.

Our clothes were off in an instant and we were back on the couch with me straddling Shaun again. He was pretty well built. I’d always appreciated the breadth of his shoulders and the thickness of his arms in his uniform; years of heaving about full kegs of draft and cases of beer had resulted in an upper body more toned than I would have thought. His cock was impressive, at least eight inches long, and wider than any I’d ever seen in person. My ex-boyfriend couldn’t have competed with it; the anticipation of having it’s generous size buried inside me made me crazy. It didn’t matter that he was my manager and we were naked in his office, I wanted Shaun like I’d never wanted any guy.

His hand dipped between my legs, feeling for the slick heat, finding my clit without preamble. The contact made me jump; muscles contracting, I came with a wail.

“Shit,” Shaun laughed, shaking his head in disbelief, his fingers questing further, dipping into the warmth of my pussy. “That didn’t take much!”

“Sorry,” I apologized, leaning in closer to kiss him. “It’s been a while.” The feeling of his two fingers inside me was amazing.

“I just hope we haven’t finished before we’ve begun.”

“Hell, no. I can have a few more.”

“Really? Lucky girl.” Shaun cocked an eyebrow, the hint of a smile playing about his well-kissed lips. “How many?”

I shook my head. “I don’t know. I’ve never kept track. I usually lose count after six or seven.”

Laughing, Shaun bent to briefly take a nipple in his mouth. He removed his sopping fingers, rubbing his hard cock against my dripping pussy. “That sounds like a challenge.”

One little orgasm wasn’t enough. I wanted everything. Beneath me, Shaun was grinning lasciviously. “Please.” I panted. I’ve never been a patient person.

“Gladly,” Shaun growled. His strong hands spanned my waist; lifting me slightly he thrust forward, finding my pussy with unerring accuracy. Filled, I know I screamed. I had been right: he felt amazing, larger than I’d ever had. It felt like the first time again. “Shit,” Shaun said through gritted teeth. “You’re so fucking tight. This isn’t going to take long.”

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