as it goes down.
“Same as usual, Trix,” he says before heading to the next customer.
Trix rubs her hands over my spread thighs. “So you wanna get out of here?”
“No.” I grip her ass and pull her closer so she’s stuck with her back against the bar, facing me. “Here’s good for me.”
She giggles. “Ooh you got a few kinks… I like it.” It’s the fake giggle all snatch-for-cash hookers have perfected. The one that’s supposed to make them look and sound sexy as fuck. The reality is, it’s nerve grating.
I slide my hands under her skirt, lifting until I can easily access her shaved pussy. She wiggles her hips, little mewling sounds escaping her lips as she urges me to continue.
Pulling her lace panties to the side, I slip two fingers into her wet, warm pussy and pump them in and out slowly. Surprisingly, watching her try to school her expression and act as though we’re merely talking, is making my dick rock-fucking-hard and I regret not leaving this shit hole with her.
As I finger her, she rocks on my hand, leaning forward and trying to kiss me. Not interested in having any of her potential clients’ dicks in my mouth, I turn my head and instead let her suck on the skin of my neck. “You like that?” I ask her.
She nods and I drag my fingers out but she latches onto my wrist and stops me. “Please, keep going… I’m almost there.”
I smirk, wanting to leave her hanging, but the whiskey is working its magic and like the nice guy I am, I give in to her.
“Tell me what you want?”
“You… your fingers.” I trace them over her lips and her tongue darts out to lick them. “Fuck me… with your fingers.”
Two fingers end up back inside Trix who is obviously a sucker for a good finger fuck, because she’s going wild, not even trying to hide what we’re doing now. The bartender, Phil, turns a blind eye and continues serving other customers who are also acting as if this is an everyday occurrence. I watch Trix’s face as I slip a third finger in, followed by a fourth, and that’s when she lets out a loud cry of pleasure and her orgasm coats my hand and drips down her legs.
“Ohhh, holy shit, that was amazing,” she says. She leans her head back, breathing heavily as I adjust her panties and tug down her skirt. “You sure you don’t wanna come back to my place?”
I shake my head and smack her ass. “Off you go. Nice to meet ya’ Trix.”
She pouts, but it quickly morphs into a smile when her eyes meet with a guy at one of the billiard tables.
Phil walks my way and throws me a small bottle of hand sanitizer.
“Fuck, man. She that bad?”
He laughs and shakes his head. “Let’s just say she likes a wide variety.”
Four whiskeys and three beers later, I’m spilling my story to Phil. “They let her work the bar with a fucked-up face? Don’t they know you’re supposed to lure in the customers?” he asks.
“Nah, man… I say—I said tables. Not bar no. Still fucked up right?” He nods in agreement and I continue. “My boss—ex-boss—Angel.” I laugh at his stupid nickname. “Brings in these fuckin’ homeless girls. One’s who are like… messed up by drugs and shit. Got beaten up. And this one… Oaken…” I shake my head, my vision blurs for a second and squeeze my eyes shut.
Phil laughs again. “What the fuck kind of name is Oaken? Man, you sure this is a true story?”
“Yah… true shit. Oakley! Her name. So she shows up one day and bats her scarred eyes and Angel just gives her a fuckin’ job.” I swallow down a shot of murky white liquid that smells like dirty pussy and laugh to myself. “The fuckin’ scars man!” I trace my finger on the bar top to explain. “Like cracked or somethin’… TREES!” I shout, finally realizing it myself. “They look like roots and shit off trees.”
Phil’s face turns beet red when he lets out a howl of laughter. Tears spring to his eyes. “Tree scars?” He laughs. “Brother, you’re more drunk than I thought.” He pours two shots and takes one for himself, clinking his glass with mine. “To tree scars!”
“Fuck you, man. It’s true.” I dig into my pocket for my phone and pull it out, scrolling through my pics from yesterday. When I find a picture with Oakley in the background,