What's Your Pleasure Read online

  A Total-E-Bound Publication

  www.total-e-bound.com

  What’s Your Pleasure

  ISBN # 978-0-85715-054-7

  ©Copyright Marie Haynes 2010

  Cover Art by Lyn Taylor ©Copyright March 2010

  Edited by Janice Bennett

  Total-E-Bound Publishing

  This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher, Total-E-Bound Publishing.

  Applications should be addressed in the first instance, in writing, to Total-E-Bound Publishing. Unauthorised or restricted acts in relation to this publication may result in civil proceedings and/or criminal prosecution.

  The author and illustrator have asserted their respective rights under the Copyright Designs and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book and illustrator of the artwork.

  Published in 2010 by Total-E-Bound Publishing, Think Tank, Ruston Way, Lincoln, LN6 7FL, United Kingdom

  .

  Warning: This book contains sexually explicit content which is only suitable for mature readers. This story has been rated Total-e-burning.

  Pleasure

  WHAT’S YOUR PLEASURE

  Marie Haynes

  Dedication

  To my Circle of Friends. Without you guys, I’d never have made it this far. I love you all.

  Trademarks Acknowledgement

  The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:

  Asteroids: Atari, Inc.

  Formica: The Formica Insulation Company

  Irish Cream: R & A Bailey & Co.

  Jeep: DaimlerChrysler Corporation

  Kahlua: Jules Berman & Associates, Inc.

  Levi’s: Levi Strauss & Company

  Southern Comfort: Midland Distilleries, Incorporated

  Space Invaders: Taito America Corporation

  Chapter One

  Butterballs Shot

  1 ½ shots butterscotch schnapps

  ½ shot coffee liqueur

  Serve in a double shot glass. Can be mixed, but better if layered with schnapps first, then top with the coffee.

  Vincent ran his hand through his brown hair and sighed. He had been sitting at his desk for two hours trying to balance the books, but no matter how many times he crunched the numbers, they kept coming up short. What he needed to save Hot Shots was nothing short of a damned miracle. Flexing his broad shoulders, Vincent decided he could use another cup of coffee.

  Pushing open his office door, he entered his bar and glanced around. At 10:00 in the morning, the place was closed for business, but he still felt a rush a pride as he glanced around the establishment. He’d purchased Hot Shots in the historic Soulard area of St. Louis ten years ago in an act of desperation. Despite his high paying position as the head accountant at a large St. Louis-based company, the stress of corporate life had been slowly killing him. At the age of thirty-four, he had been diagnosed with high blood pressure and suffered an ulcer. Six months after the diagnosis, he’d quit his job and invested a good chunk of his savings in this bar. Up until recently, he’d been turning an easy profit, but since the recent recession, fewer and fewer patrons frequented the once popular night spot. At least his business was still open. Many area businesses had been forced to close their doors.

  He poured himself another cup of strong coffee and heard a knocking on the front door.

  Turning quickly around, he almost choked on the hot liquid. Standing just outside was perhaps the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. She was a petite little thing, couldn’t be more than five foot two, he estimated. Short, white-blonde hair framed her pixie face. He could easily tell that her small breasts rested free of undergarments beneath a light pink T-shirt. Grinning, he set down his coffee mug and walked to the door.

  “Can I help you?” he asked.

  “You need help?” she quickly countered.

  For a moment, Vincent thought the girl was nuts. What was she talking about? Apparently, his thoughts must have shown on his face because she pointed to the sign in the window.

  “A bartender?” she continued. “Your sign says you need a bartender.”

  “Oh,” Vincent said, remembering he’d placed the Help Wanted sign only that morning. Last night, his bartender had casually announced she was pregnant and would no longer work in such a raunchy establishment as Hot Shots. So maybe the bar was a bit dusty and the furnishings old, but to call it raunchy was simply an insult. Vincent preferred to think of the stained wood floors, the names carved into the tables and the fading paint on the walls as character.

  “Y-yeah,” he stammered, hoping desperately he didn’t sound as stupid as he felt. “I just put the sign out there. Won’t you come in?”

  “Thanks. So, what do you need to know about me?” she asked.

  What do you look like naked? Vincent shook his head slightly, trying to rid himself of that rude, but legitimate, question.

  “Why don’t you have a seat and we’ll chat. Would you like some coffee?” He indicated a tall table.

  “Yes, please. Black.”

  Vincent nodded, walked behind the bar and poured a second mug full of the steaming liquid.

  “You sure? I make it pretty strong,” he warned.

  She turned deep green eyes to him and, without blinking, said, “I like it strong.”

  Vincent damn near swallowed his own tongue.

  Okay, don’t blow this, he thought. You need a bartender, not a quick roll in the hay. Think with the big head on top.

  Forcing himself to look at her eyes, not her boobs, he handed her the steaming mug and leaned his elbows on the bar.

  “Let’s start with the basics. I’m Vincent Milo, owner of Hot Shots,” he began, and he held out his hand.

  “Josephine Dunes,” she answered, grasping it firmly.

  Wow! She has soft hands. Bet they’d feel great on my… Stop it!

  Dropping his hand quickly, he reached for his mug to steady himself.

  “So, what experience do you have?” he began again, trying not to stare as her pink little tongue darted out to lick a drop of coffee.

  “My parents owned a bar up in Springfield,” she started.

  “Missouri or Illinois?”

  “Illinois. They opened it when I was seventeen, and I started working for them. You know, mopping, dishes, that type of thing, first. When I turned twenty-one, I started working the bar, so you could say I’ve worked in one for about ten years.”

  “So that puts you at twenty-seven years old?”

  Josephine grinned. “So you’re a math genius, huh?”

  Vincent felt himself blush.

  Suddenly, the grin vanished from her face. “Oh, sorry. There I go with my smart mouth, and I’m not even hired, yet.”

  “No problem,” Vincent assured her. “I like a smart mouth, as long as it’s attached to a smart brain. So, you’re experienced. Let me give you the lay of the land here. First, the bar could be doing better. With the economy like it is, people just aren’t coming out like they used to. I need a bartender with enough personality and experience to help keep this place going.”

  “So you’re looking for a bartender to save the place?” she asked sceptically.

  Vincent shook his head. “No, not at all. I’m not doing that badly, but my last bartender quit due to a pregnancy. The one before that was a large, smelly guy whom
many of the female patrons found objectionable, and the one before that was a hot little redhead who ran off with her best friend’s husband.”

  “Ouch!”

  “Yeah. I’m looking for someone who is reliable but whom I can also bounce ideas off of. I’m open to new ideas, as well,” he added.

  “Well, I also have a degree in Marketing, so I might be an advantage there,” she said.

  “I gotta say, I don’t usually make rash decisions, but I think you’re hired.” He smiled.

  Josephine nodded but didn’t answer immediately. “When do I start?”

  “Tonight? It could be a trial run for us both,” Vincent offered. “If it works out, we can discuss and agree on the particulars after the shift.”

  Josephine stood and held out her hand. “Deal.”

  Vincent again shook it and grinned.

  “Just one more question?” she asked.

  “Shoot.”

  “Do you know of any decent but cheap hotels around?”

  Suddenly, he noticed the ragged backpack and large purse she carried. “You’re not from around here?” he deduced.

  “No.” She gave him that lopsided grin again. “I’m from Springfield, remember? I just got into town last night.”

  Vincent frowned. “You came to a new town without a job or a place to stay?”

  “Listen, Dad, I’m a big girl, now. I can take care of myself,” she answered tartly.

  “Sorry, but isn’t that a little risky?”

  Josephine sighed. “No, I’m sorry. I snapped at you, and that was inappropriate,” she admitted. “As to risky, yeah, probably. But I needed to get out of town, and I do have some friends here in St. Louis. I would just rather not take advantage of their hospitality if I don’t have to. My one friend, Renee, has a room I can use, but she’s recovering from a nasty stomach virus, so I’d just as soon stay away for a bit longer.”

  Vincent ran his hands through his hair and considered her situation. “I know of a few places to stay, but if you want, there’s a small apartment upstairs. You can crash there for a few nights.”

  Rather than answer, she just raised one eyebrow.

  “Seriously,” he said, crossing his heart with an index finger. “I’m not a pervert or anything. I live a few blocks away, so it’s not like I’d be staying.”

  Still, she said nothing.

  Vincent sighed. “Take it or leave it. It can be on a trial basis, as well. Truthfully, it’s really small and probably dirty. Hasn’t been used in several months. Still, I wouldn’t mind someone living up there and keeping on eye on the place for me, and it would be convenient for you.”

  Vincent waited, watching a variety of expressions pass over her delicate features.

  Finally, she nodded, “Okay. I’ll take it, but this is just a trial. And I have to warn you, I have an older brother who taught me just where and how hard to kick a man so he won’t get back up again. Understand?”

  Paling slightly, Vincent nodded. “Understood. Come on, I’ll show you the room.”

  Chapter Two

  Green Eyed Blonde Girl

  1 part melon liqueur

  1 part banana liqueur

  1 part Irish Cream

  Carefully layer in a shot glass.

  Tossing her backpack onto the bed, Joe shook her head slightly as a cloud of dust sparkled in the sunlight. What had she gotten herself into this time? Still, with a little cleaning and airing out, the room would have potential. A typical shotgun style design, the front door opened into the living room which led into the kitchen which led into the bedroom. Just off from the kitchen was the bathroom, a tiny little room sporting only a shower, toilet and sink. As she opened the windows to let the cool breeze blow away the stagnant air, she wondered briefly if it also could blow a little freshness into her life.

  You’ve made a start, girl, she said to herself. She’d landed a job and a place to stay, at least for the time being, all within twenty-four hours of arriving in town. Not bad.

  And speaking of not bad, her new boss would certainly fall into that category. Not only was he ‘not bad’, he was downright hot! Short brown hair that was probably as soft as silk, a matching moustache, bright blue eyes and a tight body. If Joe were in the market for a man, she’d definitely want to put him in her basket! Sweet, too. She giggled a bit as she remembered how his eyes had practically popped out of his head when she was knocking on the door.

  Slowly, her grin dropped, and she sat on the bed. What the hell am I thinking? She needed a man like she needed a hole in her head. The last guy she’d met had practically torn the door off the hinges trying to get away from her after he’d seen her naked.

  Dave had been a friend of her brother Bill, and the two had met at her family’s annual Memorial Day bar-b-que. They’d hit it off pretty well and started dating. After a few platonic evenings out, nature had taken its course and, somewhere around the fourth date or so, the heavy necking had turned into serious petting.

  Joe flopped back onto the bed, unable to stop the flood of painful memories.

  “I want you,” Dave had said.

  “So what’s stopping you?” she’d breathed.

  That was all the encouragement he’d needed. He grasped her tightly to his hard body and bent her head back in a devastating kiss. She wrapped her arms around his neck, drawing him into her. It had been so long since a man had held her like this. She wanted to drown in his embrace. His tongue, at first gently then with growing confidence, explored her mouth. His hands on her legs pushed her skirt up, tugged at her silk panties. She moaned. Without allowing her mouth to leave his, she began to unbutton his shirt. Desperate, she needed to touch his skin, to feel his flesh beneath her hands. Awkward as teenagers, they had clawed and pulled at each other’s clothing until they were both naked. Not bothering to go into the bedroom, Joe pushed him down onto her couch. He smiled up at her.

  “Ride me, Baby,” he demanded.

  “Oh, yes,” she agreed.

  And ride him she did. She mounted him and began a slow dance. She could see the fire in his eyes as he watched her.

  “Play with your nipples,” he ordered.

  Not bothering to answer, Joe ran her hands up her own tight stomach until her breasts filled them. She pinched her nipples slightly, encouraging them to erectness. Heat built deep within her, and she began to tremble.

  “That’s it, Baby. Keep it up. Come for me.”

  Her body blazed as waves of passion crashed over her. He reached up, grasped her tightly to his body, his hands on her hips as he forced her to fuck him deeply and rhythmically. Before she had finished, he flipped her over, his cock still buried within her. He pounded into her, thrust after thrust. She screamed when he tweaked her nipples, twisting them until the pain merged into pleasure. Suddenly, he collapsed on top of her, crushing her into his body. He growled his release into her neck, his body convulsing with pleasure.

  For a long while, they lay next to each other, trying to catch their breath.

  “I need to use the bathroom,” he reluctantly admitted.

  She rolled over to her side and reached for the lamp next to her bed. Without thinking, she turned the switch, and soft light filled the room.

  “Holy Shit! What the hell is that?” he demanded, his voice horrified.

  Joe shuddered, trying to shake off the sick sensation that flooded over her from the memory. Hadn’t hat incident taught her that the best thing for her was to keep people at a distance and concentrate on living her life and paying her debts? Blinking back tears and glancing at her watch, she decided she had just enough time for a nap before a quick shower and then down to work.

  * * * *

  Vincent glanced at his watch yet again. Where is she? he wondered for what seemed like the hundredth time. Just when he had decided to go upstairs and bang on her door, she calmly walked into the bar.

  “I was starting to get worried about you,” he said, noting with approval that she dressed sexy, yet respectably, in a pair
of ass hugging Levi’s, sneakers and a black, V-necked T-shirt which allowed just a peek of cleavage. She had added a touch of make-up to her green eyes and spiked her short, blonde hair.

  “Don’t worry yet, Mr. Milo. Like I said, I know my way around a bar, so all you have to do is show me your specials and give me a quickie layout of the place,” she calmly assured him.

  “Right,” Vincent said. “First things first, though. Please, my name is Vincent—not Mr. Milo. Don’t call me by my dad’s name, Josephine.”

  Josephine laughed. “All right, then. I won’t call you by your dad’s name if you don’t call me by my grandmother’s.”

  “Pardon?”

  “Josephine was my grandmother. She was a lovely woman with a quick wit and quicker backhand. I loved her and admired her above all other women but I’m not her. Everyone calls me Joe.”

  “Joe. I like that.” He grinned. Bet you’re a lot like her, he silently added.

  “Good. Now, why don’t you show me the ropes?” she said.

  For the next thirty minutes, Vincent did just that. He showed Joe the recipe list for the Hot Shot Specials and how to work the dishwasher and the cash register. She was a quick study, he noted. Didn’t say much, but kept an attentive gaze on him at all times. When he asked her to repeat what he had said, she did so without a fault. Finally, Vincent felt confident she could handle her first night.

  “If you get swamped, I’ll be around. I’m always around when there’s a female bartender,” he assured her.

  “And why is that?” she asked.

  “Safety.”

  Joe frowned. “You have much trouble around here?”

  “No, but I want to keep it that way. Oh, around 11:30 or so a guy named Nathan will be showing up. He’s the unofficial bouncer and my official best friend,” Vincent said.