Authors: Elizabeth Coldwell
‘So, Summer, have you got any experience of working in a bar?’
I shook my head. Honesty had to be the best policy, even if it meant I didn’t get the job. ‘I don’t, and I’m afraid I don’t have an up-to-date résumé with me either. I wasn’t exactly intending to put myself up for a job interview this afternoon. But I’m enthusiastic, I learn fast, and I literally only live round the corner.’ What more could I tell him?
He regarded me with the expression of a man not entirely convinced by my sales pitch. ‘I’m looking for someone who’s prepared to work shifts, and I’m not talking nine to five. You might not finish here till two in the morning.’
‘Not a problem,’ I assured him. I’d always been a night bird; it was the reason I’d slept through my alarm on more than one occasion, earning Rebecca’s wrath when I eventually made it into the office.
‘OK, well, I pay nine bucks an hour.’ Eddie spoke almost as though he was laying down a challenge, waiting for me to back down and admit I wasn’t cut out for the job. When I just kept looking at him, waiting for him to tell me something I couldn’t cope with, he added, ‘Though you can push that up with tips, of course.’
‘Of course.’ I’d be a fool to deny the money wasn’t a significant drop in salary compared to what I’d been used to, but I’d manage. It wouldn’t hurt to cut down on a few of my extravagances, resisting the urge to buy new shoes I really didn’t need. I couldn’t say why I suddenly wanted this job so badly, but it had plenty to do with the prospect of working alongside this brawny, sleepy-eyed bartender.
‘What T-shirt size are you?’ Eddie asked. ‘Small?’
It seemed like a pretty personal question from someone I’d only just met. ‘Why d’you ask?’
‘Well, the staff uniform involves one of these –’ he gestured to the T-shirt he wore ‘– and your choice of pants or a skirt, though wearing a skirt’ll always earn you more in the way of tips. Especially with legs like yours.’
So he had been checking me out, though I couldn’t complain. After all, I’d been doing exactly the same to him. It took me a moment to realise the real significance of his comment.
‘You mean I’ve got the job?’ I would have hugged him, but that would mean putting the box down, and where we stood there wasn’t anywhere to do that apart from the floor. ‘Oh, thanks so much, Eddie. I promise you, you won’t regret this.’
The look he gave me indicated he wasn’t so sure about that. All he said was, ‘I’ll need you here at five tomorrow afternoon. Don’t be late.’
With that remark, I’d gone from laid-off salesperson to the newest barmaid at Eddie’s on Barrow Street in the space of little more than an hour. It wasn’t the career move I’d intended to take, and I told myself I wasn’t being guided in my decision purely by an attack of lust for my new boss. I’d never mixed business with pleasure, and I wasn’t going to start now, however cute the man might be. But as I stepped back out on to the street, I swore I could still feel the touch of his hand, branded on my skin, and I knew if nothing else my dreams that night would be very sweet indeed.
The alarm went off the next morning at seven, just as it always did. I almost dragged myself out of bed and headed for the bathroom, until I remembered I didn’t work at the
Reporter
any more. I could kiss goodbye to my old routine. No shower in water that would more than likely be lukewarm, thanks to the indifferent plumbing in this old apartment block; no breakfast on the run; no squeezing myself on to a packed and sweaty subway train for the ride to Times Square. Eddie didn’t need me for my first shift at the bar until five that night. For pretty much the first time since I’d graduated from college, the whole day was my own.
Rolling over, I drifted off to sleep again. Though my plan to have a drink or two at Eddie’s had been derailed by my impromptu job interview, I’d stopped off at the local liquor store on the way back to my apartment and picked up a bottle of Prosecco. I’d toasted the end of my old career and the start of my new one, finishing off most of the bottle in the process. When I’d finally made it to bed around midnight, my dreams had been a confused jumble, though I clearly remembered that at one point I’d dreamt of Eddie and me standing in the middle of his bar room, sharing a long, slow, sensuous kiss.
When I woke for a second time, it was almost ten. This, I knew, was going to be the pattern of my days from now on: sleeping late; eating a leisurely breakfast; maybe taking long walks round the neighbourhood, getting to know it better than I had at any time since I’d moved here.
Not bothering to dress, I went into the kitchen to brew myself a pot of coffee. Looking in the fridge, I noticed I was low on milk and a few of the other essentials. Once I’d had breakfast, I’d go out and pick up some groceries, and drop off a couple of items to be dry cleaned. Maybe I’d even start going through my wardrobe, picking out stuff I didn’t wear any more to take to one of the local thrift stores. At last I had time to do all the chores I’d been putting off.
Waiting for the kettle to boil, I couldn’t help wondering what Delia would be doing right about now. Probably stuck in some boring meeting, or on a client call. I’d sent her a text message last night, telling her I’d found myself a new job. She’d sent me a brief “congratulations” in response. I resisted the urge to check in and give her all the details; Rebecca frowned on anyone making personal calls or sending non-business emails on company time, and I didn’t want to get my best friend into any trouble, not with things on the newspaper the way they were.
Coffee brewed, I poured myself a mug and stood staring out of the window as I sipped it. I didn’t have the greatest view in the city, nothing like the one from Rebecca Haynes’s office. All I could see was the rear of the building that backed on to mine, a dull red brick affair dominated by a rickety iron fire escape. I’d never paid it that much attention, but now I realised there were two people standing on it, locked in a passionate clinch.
The sight was so unexpected, I couldn’t help but stare at it. I knew the day had a different rhythm for those who didn’t work the usual office hours, but I’d never imagined people might pass their time with such an open display of public affection, and in such a precarious location too.
They broke the kiss so they could stare into each other’s eyes, and I got a better look at the two of them. Looking young enough to be a student from NYU, he was tall and lanky, bare-chested in the morning sunshine. A blackwork tattoo swirled around most of the length of his right arm. The girl with him was reaching for the fly of his jeans, tugging it open. She had on a floral dress that buttoned down the front; it had already been opened halfway, and though her curtain of long, blonde hair all but covered her breasts, when she moved it was pretty easy to tell she didn’t have a bra on beneath it. As her companion worked on the rest of the buttons, I caught the briefest flash of fur-covered pussy and realised she wasn’t wearing panties either.
That’s the point when I should have stepped away from the window, and left them to their private moment. It was pretty obvious where this scene was headed, after all. But I figured it couldn’t be that private, if they’d stepped out on to the fire escape to fuck. Maybe they’d done so in the hope that someone would be staring out of a neighbouring window, watching as the guy bent his head, pushing the girl’s hair and the open flap of her dress front out of the way so he could suck on her tit.
Just watching them, I felt myself start to get wet, pussy lips blooming against the thin cotton of my pyjama bottoms. It was hardly surprising, given the show in front of me. The couple was young, attractive and, judging by their body language, more in lust than in love. Just like Todd and I had been. Though we’d never been so bold as to take our lovemaking out of the bedroom – apart from one memorable occasion where he’d fucked me on the kitchen table of his apartment in Brooklyn Heights.
The girl had her head thrown back, pleasure etched on her face, as her lover’s mouth trailed down the valley between her breasts, kissing and nipping. Slowly but purposefully he moved closer to her bare pussy. Setting down the coffee mug, my hand slipped beneath the waistband of my pyjamas as I continued to watch them, fingers encountering sticky wetness when I traced them along my cleft. I’d never thought of myself as a voyeur – an ex of mine had once suggested we watch a porno together, and I’d got bored after less than 20 minutes, more interested in the horny, flesh-and-blood guy on the sofa at my side than the buff but strangely plastic-looking ones on the screen. Seeing the couple on the fire escape enjoying each other’s bodies, oblivious to all around them, was affecting me powerfully, however. Almost without thinking, I stroked the hidden nub of my clit.
His head was level with the fork of her legs now, and though I couldn’t see it, I knew his lips and tongue would be working on her pussy, parting the wet, velvet lips to seek out the treasures waiting within. She was clutching the iron rail of the fire escape with one hand, and squeezing and rolling one of her nipples with the other. I could only imagine the delicious sensations she must be feeling, jolts of pleasure from her sweetly tormented tit surging down to link with the rhythmic pulsing in her cunt.
Closing my eyes, I imagined myself getting some of the same expert treatment, a wet, supple tongue slithering over my pussy, licking me all the way from my clit to the tightly furled bud of my asshole. At first, I pictured the tattooed, shirtless guy crouching between my legs, eager to please, wanting to make sure he hit all the right spots as he pushed me toward orgasm. But cute as he might be, he wasn’t my type – too young, and a little on the skinny side for my liking. So I replaced him with the man I really wanted down there, eating me out. Eddie Quinn. I couldn’t remember the last time someone had elbowed their way to the front of my fantasy queue so quickly, but he’d managed it, even though I shouldn’t be having such naughty thoughts about him, given we’d be working alongside each other from now on. Those concerns were easy to brush aside in the heat of the moment, though, and I went back to daydreaming about him. I knew he’d have a hard, muscular body beneath the T-shirt he’d had on yesterday, with wide shoulders I could grip on to as his mouth went to work on me. And as his tongue squirmed its way up into my channel, I’d sigh and hold him tighter, demanding more …
Forcing my attention back to the couple outside, in need of more fuel for my fantasy, I noticed they’d changed position. The guy now stood side on to the grimy brick wall, and his girlfriend had his cock in her hand. I didn’t have as good a view of it as I’d like, but I could tell from the length of his shuttling strokes up and down his shaft that he was big. Forgetting my own pleasure, I craned my head, trying to get a better look. I still wasn’t sure whether they had any clue I was watching, or if they were simply swept away by their own need for each other.
The blonde climbed up on to the bottom rung of the iron steps leading up to the next floor. They exchanged a few words which I couldn’t make out – I wanted to open the window, but I knew the movement would alert them to the fact they had an audience who might, after all, not be so welcome. From his delighted grin and her wanton expression, though, I worked out she’d told him she was ready to be fucked. With her standing just a little higher than him, she was perfectly placed to guide the head of that long, thick cock into her hole. With a couple of jerking motions, he buried himself deep in her, her face registering the sheer delight of being joined to him in such intimate fashion. Then he began to thrust, hard and fast. Her hands clutched at his ass, urging him further inside, and her hair was whipped around her face by the breeze.
The fire escapes on these old buildings might be sturdier than they looked, but he was giving her such a pounding I really believed they might pry the structure loose from the bolts holding it to the wall. Captivated by the live sex show taking place outside my window, I returned to rubbing my clit, with more purpose this time. All fantasies forgotten, I used their fast, remorseless fucking, and the sight of his bare ass cheeks flexing in his lover’s grasp with every stroke, to spur me on. It couldn’t be long, I was sure, before one or other of them came, and I wanted an orgasm of my own, to match theirs.
He stepped up the pace, hips thrusting wildly. I was all wetness and need, slipping a finger into my hot, slick depths in a vain attempt to satisfy the craving I felt. My vibrator lay on the nightstand, but I feared by the time I returned from fetching it they’d have finished and gone. So two fingers of my right hand sufficed instead, pushing in and out of me while the middle finger of my left paid loving attention to my clit.
It was obvious to me they’d reached the final act of their performance. His thrusting had lost its steady pace; now he was urgent, uncontrolled, racing to the finish line. When he stilled, the straining of every sinew evident in his posture, I knew he’d come. My own orgasm hit me at roughly the same time as his girlfriend yelled something – curse words, his name, maybe even “I love you” – and surrendered to her pleasure. Gasping, knees buckling, I clutched on to the cold metal edge of the sink for support.
It took a moment for me to recover my composure. When I had, I looked out of the window to see the guy easing his jeans back up his tanned legs and the blonde buttoning her dress. The show was over.
A pang of envy consumed me as I watched the couple scurry down the fire escape, disappearing out of my line of vision. It wasn’t so much because of their obvious enjoyment of each other, and sex, reminding of what I lacked in my own life. More it was their wildness, their lack of inhibition. Maybe with the right person, I could find something of that same spontaneity. Whoever that right person might be.
I took their brazen display as another indicator that the time was right to start making changes in my life, changes in myself. Working at Eddie’s, I didn’t need to be a corporate drone any more. Picking up my forgotten coffee mug, I wrinkled my nose as I took a sip of liquid that had gone cold. I’d have a shower, then brew myself a fresh pot. Think positive, Summer, I told myself, and this will all work out.
Pushing open the door of Eddie’s just before five that night, I didn’t feel quite so optimistic. Starting any new job is always nerve-racking, and I knew I’d have a lot to learn in a short time to make sure my lack of experience didn’t find a way of biting me in the ass. The bar room was busier than it had been the day before, but Eddie paused in the act of pouring a beer and greeted me with a smile as I walked in.
I’d taken his advice, teaming my black uniform T-shirt with a denim skirt short enough to show off my thighs, but not so short that I’d be flashing my underwear every time I leant over a table.
‘Hey, Summer, great to see you.’ Eddie motioned over the barmaid who was wiping down the table in one of the booths. ‘Summer, meet Janeane. She tends to work the early shifts here, but I’ll warn you now you might have to step in to cover for her if one of her kids is sick.’
‘Oh, do you have boys or girls?’ I asked, as Janeane gave me a broad smile that caused the creases in the corners of her eyes to deepen.
‘One of each,’ she said, pushing a stray lock of dyed blonde hair behind her ear. ‘Molly’s six and Mikey’s three, and they’re a real handful between them. But I wouldn’t be without them, believe me.’
‘Hey, waitress!’ a voice called behind her.
She turned to see who needed attention, with a quick “Catch you later” in my direction.
‘Janeane goes off shift at six,’ Eddie told me, ‘and Sunday to Thursday you’ll be working on your own when she leaves. Friday and Saturday, there’ll be two of you, but you’ll meet Penny in due course. Now come on, let me give you a quick tour of the place.’
He came out from behind the bar. Again, I was struck by his sheer physical size; he towered over me, and would have done even if I hadn’t been wearing the flat shoes I knew would be most comfortable for spending all night on my feet. My mind flashed back to the couple on the fire escape, and I wondered how many rungs I’d have to climb to be on a level with Eddie’s crotch as he guided his cock into me. That image I quickly brushed away; it didn’t do to be thinking about my new boss in those terms, even though he was so close to me I could smell the subtle, masculine scent of him. He didn’t appear to favour cologne, unlike the guys in the
Reporter
office, who between them had smelled like the perfume counter at Bloomingdale’s. I felt like I could stand there just breathing him in for ever, but instead I was ushered through to the small back kitchen to meet Rudy, the bar’s short order cook.
Rudy turned out to be short and stocky, with a blue-striped, grease-spotted apron tied round his waist and a black bandanna keeping his greying hair out of his eyes. The aura he gave off was that of a man in charge of his own domain. He thrust out a hand for me to shake as Eddie again made introductions.
‘Nice to meet you, Summer. You’re going to love working here,’ he said, before returning to tend to the burgers sizzling on the hot plate. The menu at Eddie’s, which was chalked up on a board on the wall by the bar, tended toward the basic – burgers, fries, hot wings, Philly cheese steaks; the ideal accompaniment to a pitcher of beer and a football game on TV – but Rudy’s cooking looked deliciously appetising.