The bar was in its usual mid-evening groove—dim lights casting long shadows over worn wooden tables, the jukebox playing some forgotten '80s rock ballad that blended with the low hum of conversation and the clink of glasses.
The air smelled like stale beer, cheap cologne, and the faint burn of cigarette smoke drifting in from the patio outside.
I was behind the counter, in my element.
Bartending wasn't glamorous, but it paid better than the café, and the tips were all mine. No splitting with the house like Mrs. Karen's bullshit policy. Here, what I earned was what I kept, and that made the long nights worth it.
I'd clocked in at seven, and so far the shift had been standard. Office workers blowing off steam. A couple of regulars are nursing their usual drinks. A bachelorette party that got loud for an hour before stumbling out.
Nothing interesting.
Just me mixing drinks, collecting tips, and letting my mind wander.
The ESU acceptance letter was still burning a hole in my brain. Fifty percent scholarship and the hundred and fifty grand that I didn't have. Classes will start next month. Two jobs that barely kept me afloat now, and I was supposed to add full-time student to that list?
'System... help your host out, he's burning through life.' I asked my system for help... again... to which the system did not say anything... again.
Sighing, I think about the seven points I had, which were not enough for the new tier lottery.
But maybe tonight would change that.
I can't hook up tomorrow as I have to go out with Gwen.
Tonight is all I have, or else I have to wait for the day after tomorrow... or maybe my personal redhead would like my help in the storage room... after all, we did talk about doing the same thing at the same time tomorrow.
But I was kinda outgrowing that storage room... it was just too dusty. Might just hit it at her place.
Shaking off my thoughts, I shook a cocktail for a girl at the end of the bar—vodka tonic, extra lime—and slid it across without spilling a drop.
Perfect Pour in action.
That skill alone made me the best bartender here. I never spilled. Never fumbled. Every drink landed clean.
Quick Hands helped too. The repetitive motions—shaking, stirring, pouring—became automatic.
The girl left a five-dollar tip. I pocketed it without comment.
Then she walked in.
Blonde hair cut sharply to her shoulders, framing a face that could've been on a magazine cover.
Leather jacket zipped just low enough to hint at the body underneath—fit and seemingly athletic. She moved with confidence, scanning the bar with sharp green eyes before sliding onto a stool at the far end, away from the noise... but near me.
My Heartbeat Hearing caught the steady rhythm of her pulse—calm, controlled.
She didn't look like a regular. I never saw her here during my shift.
I grabbed a towel, wiped my hands, and walked over, flashing the easy grin that usually got conversations rolling.
"What can I get you?"
She tilted her head, those green eyes locking onto mine with faint amusement.
"Something non-alcoholic. Surprise me." Her accent slipped through—Russian, thick but smooth. "Nothing too sweet. Keep it simple."
Non-alcoholic? Interesting.
Most people hit a bar for the buzz, and she looked like she could handle her liquor and then some.
"Got it," I said, already reaching for the ginger beer.
"Virgin Moscow Mule. Ginger beer, fresh lime, and mint. Bites without the hangover." I tell her the ingredients, in case she would like me to replace anything.
"Make it strong on the ginger," she said, lips curling into a small smile. "I like the burn."
I muddled the mint right there in front of her, squeezing lime juice over it, pouring the fizzing ginger beer, stirring with a quick flourish. Slid the glass across the bar.
Our fingers brushed for a split second when she took it.
Electric.
She noticed. Eyebrow quirked, that smile widening just slightly before she took a sip. Her lips wrapped around the straw, and her eyes flicked up to meet mine.
"Not bad," she said, setting the glass down. "Crisp. Like you said." She leaned forward just enough that I caught more of that spice in her scent.
"You're always this good with surprises, or just lucky tonight?"
I leaned on the bar, mirroring her posture. "Luck's got nothing to do with it. Practice does." I held her gaze.
"Name's Rex. And you don't look like a regular."
"Elena," she said, tracing the rim of the glass with one finger.
"Teacher, actually. High school Russian. Kids are a handful, but pay is shit." She shrugged, that accent wrapping around the words like velvet.
"Needed a break from grading papers. This place... quiet enough."
Teacher?
I could picture it. Her standing in front of a classroom, commanding attention with that voice and those eyes. Strict. No-nonsense. Then letting loose after hours.
"Russian teacher," I said, mixing a beer for another customer but keeping my focus on her. "Bet you keep those kids in line. What brings you to a dive like this on a weeknight?"
She took another sip, eyes never leaving mine. "Boredom. My apartment is close, but staring at the walls gets old. Figured drink and some... conversation might spice things up."
Her gaze dropped to my arms—the way my sleeves hugged my biceps from all those gym hours. "You? Bartender by choice, or just paying bills?"
"Paying bills," I admitted.
"Double shifts. Café during the day, this at night. Keeps me moving." I wiped down the counter near her, letting my hand brush her arm.
"Just got into ESU today, though. Sciences. Hoping it leads somewhere better than shaking cocktails."
"ESU?" She leaned in, voice dropping lower. "Impressive. Smart guy, then. Brains and body?" Her eyes traced down my chest, then back up. "Dangerous combination. Bet you break a lot of hearts with that."
"Only the ones that ask for it," I replied, matching her tone.
The bar was thinning out now. That's how it was around here, the crowd wasn't too much, though a lot of people will come after an hour.
"What about you, Elena?" I asked. "Got a favorite book? Something steamy to read after hours?"
She laughed—low, throaty, the sound sending a jolt straight to my groin.
"Steamy? Tolstoy is too dry for that." She bit her lip, eyes sparkling. "Give me something with bite. Thriller where hero gets girl... and then some." She paused, leaning even closer. "You read much, Rex? Or do you prefer... hands-on stories?"
The flirt was thick now. I felt my cock stir in my jeans.
"Hands-on's more my style," I said, voice rougher than I intended. "Theory's boring without practice."
I wiped the counter again, letting my arm brush hers. Not an accident this time.
She noticed.
"If you're looking for a good story tonight," I say, keeping my charming smile on my face.
"I could tell you one. But my shift doesn't end for another four hours."
She paused, sipping her drink. Set it down with a decisive clink.
"Four hours?" Her smile turned wicked. "That is a shame."
Before I could respond, she slipped off the stool and walked away.
'Ugh... way to blow the thing off, Rex.'
I thought she was turned off due to the timing... but then I noticed something, she was walking towards the back, where my boss—old man Hargrove—was counting the register.
I watched, confused, as she said something to him. Her hand moved quickly through her purse. Hargrove's eyes widened for a second. Then he nodded, pocketing whatever she'd slipped him.
A minute later, he shuffled over to me.
"You're free for tonight." He clapped a hand on my shoulder. "Keep it up."
I blinked, mid-pour on another drink. "What? My shift ends hours later?"
Hargrove just chuckled, waving me off. "Don't ask questions. Just go. And yeah—keep bringing in money like that. Some chick finds you hot enough to tip big? Good for business."
I stared at him. Then back at Elena, who was already by the door, jacket slung over her shoulder, shooting me a come here, look.
'What the fuck?'
She bribed my boss. Because she thought I was hot... that's bold as hell... though does that make me a... never mind.
I grabbed my jacket, clocked out, and followed her into the night.
Her apartment was a short walk—a sleek loft in a quiet building with high ceilings and minimal furniture. Looked much better than mine, though... much, much better.
"Nice place," I said, kicking the door shut behind me. "Teacher's salary must be better than I thought."
She laughed, shrugging off her jacket to reveal a tight black top that hugged her body perfectly. Perky tits. Flat stomach. She moved to the kitchen, pouring herself a glass of water.
She poured it like I'd pour drinks for my customers.
"Perks of tutoring on the side," she said, hinting at the glass of water in her hands.
"Water?"
I waved it off. "Nah. I'm good."
My eyes raked over her. Athletic build. Ass that filled out those pants like a dream. The tension from the bar hung heavy between us.
I stepped closer, hands finding her waist.
"But if you're offering something else..."
Elena's green eyes darkened. Her hands slid up my chest, fingers tracing the muscle there.
"Straight to the point," she murmured. "I like that."
She pulled me into a kiss—hard, hungry, her tongue pushing into my mouth. Her body pressed against mine, firm and warm, and I felt her nipples harden through the thin fabric of her top.
My hands roamed down to her ass, squeezing it firmly.
She broke the kiss, breath hot against my ear.
DING!, the system notification rang out... not now, system.
"Bedroom," she said. "Now."
We stumbled in, shedding clothes like they were on fire.
Her top came off first—revealing small, perky tits with hard pink nipples that begged to be sucked. My shirt got yanked over my head, her nails raking down my abs hard enough to leave red lines.
She pushed me onto the bed, dropping to her knees with that sly smile still on her face.
"Let's see what you are working with, Rex."
Her hands freed my cock—already rock-hard, throbbing in her grip.
"Mmm," she hummed, wrapping her fingers around me. "Big boy."
She stroked slowly, base to tip, then she leaned in.
Her lips parted as she took my cock in her mouth.
Wet, warm suction that made my hips buck off the bed for a moment. She bobbed, her cheeks hollowed, taking me deeper with every stroke. Her tongue swirled around my cock, and when she gagged slightly, the vibration shot straight through me.
"Fuck, Elena." I groaned, hand fisting in her blonde hair.
She hummed around my cock, eyes watering but locked on mine. Spit dripped down her chin as she worked me—sloppy, wet, loud. The sounds were obscene.
This kept on for a couple more minutes.
I was close, real close... but she pulled off with a pop, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.
"Not yet," she said, voice rough. "I want that cock inside me."
I flipped her onto the bed, ready to dive between her legs and return the favor, but she grabbed my hair and pulled me up.
"No," she said, that slutty smile back on her face. "Just give it to me. I am wet enough."
I raise an eyebrow... but who was I to argue?
I positioned myself between her thighs, rubbing the head of my cock along her slick folds. She was soaked. I teased her clit, circling it until she whimpered a bit.
Then I thrust in.
Deep.
"Fuck," we both groaned.
Her pussy was tight. Hot. Gripping me like a vice as I started moving—slow at first, then harder. Her legs wrapped around my waist.
"Harder," she gasped, nails digging into my back. "Harder—give it to me, you big-cocked bar boy!"
I obliged.
Gripping her thighs, I slammed into her. Deep. Fast. Every thrust made her tits bounce, making the bed creak beneath us.
"Da—yes—you are so fucking big," she moaned, that Russian accent thick now. "Stretching me out—fuck!"
Her pussy clenched around me. Rhythmic squeezes that milked my cock, pulling me deeper. It was almost too much.
I kept pounding her for who knows how long, until I felt it.
Almost.
But I wasn't cumming first. Not before she did.
I took a deep breath and thrust her pussy harder, angling to hit that spot deep inside her.
"Take it, you little...." I growled and bit back my words... not now, Rex, you don't know if she's into that!
She arched off the bed, moans turning into cries.
"Fuck—da—pound my pussy—make me cum!" I kept fucking her in the same flow for the next couple of minutes.
But I was about to cum... so, I flipped her.
Doggy.
The change in position gave me enough time to hold myself from cumming.
She went on all fours, ass up, face pressed into the pillow. I grabbed her hips and slammed in from behind—hard, deep, watching her ass jiggle with every thrust.
She stuffed her face into the pillow, biting down to muffle the moans that were getting louder, more desperate.
"Mmmph—harder—yes!"
The view was insane. Her back arched. Ass rippling. Pussy gripping me wet and tight.
And then she shattered.
Her body trembled, pussy spasming hard around my cock in waves.
"Da—cumming—fuck!"
Her muffled cry echoed through the room as her walls fluttered, trying to pull me even deeper.
That did it.
I pulled out with a wet sound—her pussy gaping slightly, slick and pink—and stroked myself fast until I came hard, ropes of cum splattering across her back.
"Fuck—yes," I groaned, collapsing beside her.
We lay there, panting, bodies slick with sweat.
'Damn,' I thought, chest heaving. 'She's good. That pussy clench nearly broke me.'
'And that Russian "da"? Hot as fuck. Slipping out mid-moan like a secret she couldn't keep.'
She turned, smirking, hand tracing my abs.
"Not bad, bar boy," she said. "Worth the tip."
I laughed, pulling her close.
"Anytime for you."
The system dinged in my head again, which I ignored again.
She stood up as she looked at me with a satisfied smile and said, "I am gonna go clean myself first."
And she went off towards the bathroom.
I guess I will entertain the system until she comes back.
.....
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