Date: 12/6/2017, Categories: Fiction, Author: wastor64, Source: sexstories.com
Two fingers? No, two fingers of jack were not going to pacify him. It wasn’t the cold steel of the colt in his hand, aimed at nothing in particular, compelling Daphne to comply. The arrogance in the stranger’s face was prompting her submission. The smooth glass in his other hand was waiting for her to show a little more hospitality. “You’re not a half bad looking woman to be working a bar this late into the morning,” he said, flipping the drained glass back to her with a nod. “But you could do with showing a bit more smile to your patrons.” She hated these arrogant men, both of her ex’s were arrogant types. Humph ‘patrons’ she thought, walking back to the bar and dutifully refilling the glass. There weren’t any left after they heard the shot from the men’s room. Not that there had been many to begin with late on a Tuesday. There had been three semi-regulars at the bar trying to pick her up and a younger couple at a table opposite the stranger’s. ‘Not half bad looking?’ Who the hell does he think he is? Pushing forty Daphne still passed for thirty something. She had a lean build with sandy-blond hair, blue eyes, and toned arms from working this job three nights a week. She still fit perfectly into her ten year old Levis, and with a black suede vest over her white buttoned shirt, she brilliantly displayed her b-cup breasts. ‘Right where they should be, for a lady of thirty,’ she knew. She brought him his refill of ‘hospitality’ placing it in his firm grip while displaying her ...