What's Your Pleasure Read online

  “Sounds good,” she replied.

  “I’ll go flip the sign to open. Good luck.” He reached over to pat her shoulder.

  Without warning, Joe jerked away, her eyes wide and frightened.

  “Hey, sorry, I didn’t—” he began.

  “No,” she interrupted. “My fault. I just don’t like people to touch me unless I’m expecting it.” She quickly turned away, picked up a bar towel and began to wipe down the brass railing.

  “I see that,” Vincent said quietly. The girl had been hurt, he was sure of that. How and by whom, he didn’t know, but he intended to find out. Something about her roused his protective nature.

  As a few people began to straggle in, Vincent sat at a corner table, supposedly concentrating on paperwork and nursing a beer. In truth, he watched Joe joke with the customers. One man—Vincent thought of him as Brown Suit Guy—was a regular, but had never stayed past one beer. Tonight, though, Joe leaned across the bar and offered him a second. The guy had been coming in here for probably six months, had never smiled or, to Vincent’s knowledge, spoken to anyone. Vincent had assumed that Brown Suit Guy was stopping by for a quick beer before going home to his nagging wife and whiny kids. But now, to his amazement, Brown Suit Guy was laughing and nodded at something Joe had just said. Curious, Vincent meandered over to the customer’s side of the bar.

  “So, Joe, how’s it going?” he asked.

  “Just fine, Vincent. I was just telling Paul about a time back home when my brothers were sledding down a hillside and ended up in the neighbour’s yard.”

  “Doghouse, more specifically!” Paul added with a big roaring laugh. “I would have loved to have seen that.”

  Joe gave Paul a wide smile. “Yeah. It was great. Being the youngest, I loved nothing better than watching the two of them screw up.”

  Vincent grinned as well and offered his hand to Brown Suit—ah, Paul. “Hi. I’m Vincent, owner of Hot Shots. You’ve been coming here for a while—just wanted to let you know I appreciate it.”

  “Yep,” the man responded, shaking hands. “Name’s Paul Maddin. Live on the other side of the river but work just down the road. Traffic’s a bitch, so I like to stop by for a bit, let it thin out some. “

  “Glad to have you. If you need anything, just let me or Joe know,” Vincent answered, giving Joe a wink.

  “Now that you’ve got a bartender with some brains instead of that twit who used to work here, I might bring some of my buddies from work, hang out a bit more. Hell, I bet my wife’d even like chattin’ with Joe. Might be a nice night out this Friday for her,” he answered then turned back to Joe. “So, how did those two get out of the doghouse?”

  Joe grinned and continued her story. “Well, being the good sister, naturally I stood there and laughed. I tell ya, I’ll never forget seeing those four legs stickin’ out of that doghouse.”

  Pleased, Vincent wandered away. Hell, she’d been employed less than two hours and already was bringing in more customers. As the night wore on, Vincent became even more pleased. Customers were lined up against the bar, and two tables were full. Laughter and stories filled the air as people relaxed and enjoyed the evening.

  Around 10:30, Joe got so busy that Vincent stepped behind the bar to help. With just eye contact and a head nod, Joe indicated she appreciated the help. Again, without needing to speak, Joe worked the door end of the bar while Vincent took the end closest to the lavatories. Together, they saw to it that the customer had whatever he or she wanted within minutes.

  “Vincent, incoming!” she shouted.

  Vincent’s hands immediately came up, and he deftly caught the bottle of olives Joe just shot at him.

  Grinning, he shouted back, “Little more warning, next time.”

  “Why?” a big burly guy on a stool asked. “You got it, didn’t ya?”

  Vincent laughed. “True, but I’m getting a little old. Reflexes are slowing down.”

  “Doesn’t look like it to me,” said the blonde babe perched next to the burly guy. To highlight her point, she blew a kiss in Vincent’s direction. Joe and the burly guy burst out laughing, while the blonde looked at Vincent like she hadn’t eaten in three days and he was a prime rib dinner.

  “Oh my God! You should see the expression on your face, Vincent!” Joe high-fived the blonde, who now appeared to be a picture of innocence.

  Vincent grinned again and, rather than take on two scary women, refilled the olive compartment.

  * * * *

  Joe enjoyed the busy pace. But as the late evening progressed to the early hours of the morning, the crowd thinned. By 12:30 a.m. or so, only two or three people flanked the bar.

  “Hey!” yelled a strong voice from the doorway.

  “Hey!” Vincent hollered in return. “Nathan, let me introduce you to Joe, the new bartender.”

  “Pleased to meet you,” Joe responded, wiping her hand on a towel before offering it to the olive skinned, well-built giant. Nathan sported a sleek moustache and shaved head. Still, his brown, luminous eyes held secrets that any hot-blooded woman would love to discover.

  “Same,” he answered, his large hand completely engulfing her delicate fingers. “You look smarter than the last few bar wenches.”

  Vincent grinned. “He calls all my bartenders ‘wenches’. Think nothing of it,” he assured Joe. “But watch it, Nathan. The last thing I need is for you to offend her on her first night and have her run off.”

  “Hey, I’ve been called a lot worse by a lot better,” she quipped.

  Nathan threw back his head and roared.

  “Vince, I like this one. She’s a keeper.”

  “Yep. I think so, too. We’ve had the busiest Thursday we’ve had in a while.”

  Nathan glanced around the sparsely filled room and raised an eyebrow.

  “Hey,” Vincent countered, “what do you expect? People gotta work tomorrow.”

  Nathan nodded. “That’s true. Glad to hear it was a good night, though.”

  “Got a question for you,” Joe piped up, leaning against the bar.

  “Shoot,” Nathan responded.

  “If it’s usually a quiet night, why do you act as the ‘unofficial bouncer’?”

  Nathan laughed again. “That what he told you?” He looked over his shoulder at Vincent, who now was talking to their last patron. “Vince and I go way back. I grew up on the Hill, you know, where all the Italians live.”

  “I’ve heard of it,” she said, encouraging him to go on.

  “Vincent, he and his family moved in a few houses down from me when I was around thirteen or so. We’ve pretty much been friends since then. Live just around the corner, now, so Vince and I are still close. I’m a dealer over at the casino. Usually stop by for a beer before headin’ home.” Nathan peered over his mug at her.

  “All joking aside, you look smart, but let me smarten you up even more, Blondie. By the way, your eyes are incredible, kinda like emeralds.”

  Nathan grinned charmingly, but Joe wasn’t taking him up on the implied offer.

  He continued in a more serious tone. “Vincent’s got his own demons to wrestle. This place is his dream. His dad’s a successful guy in this town. Does something with the railroad. His mom—stay at home June Cleaver type of person. Hell, she probably wears pearls to clean the damned toilets, know what I mean?”

  Joe nodded.

  “Anyways, Vince had this super important job, making money hand over fist, but it was killin’ him, so he quit. Been tryin’ to prove to his folks that he’s made the right decision every since then. Hell,” Nathan took a long swig of beer and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, “last time I went to Sunday dinner with him, all they did was rag on him about being a good provider, how no woman wants to be married to a lousy bar owner, yack, yack yack.”

  Joe looked up and watched as Vincent locked the door behind the last customer and flipped the sign to ’Closed’. She smiled a bit, hearing him whistle. He looks happy, now, she thought. And sexy as hell.
/>
  “I understand. And thanks,” she told Nathan.

  “Just tellin’ ya, ya know.” He grinned. “Vince! I’m outta here. I’ll go out the back.”

  “Yep. See you tomorrow,” Vincent answered.

  “You know it!” Nathan responded as he walked through the office to leave by the rear exit.

  “Wow! You did a great job tonight,” Vincent complimented Joe.

  “Thanks, but the night’s not over,” she responded.

  Vincent looked confused again. She’d known him less than twenty-four hours, and already Joe could recognise that endearing expression.

  “Clean-up, mister. Night’s not over until everything’s clean and back in place.” She grinned as she rolled her shoulders.

  “Nope. I’m on clean-up crew tonight. You go on up and get some rest. You’ve been rushed all evening, woman. You’ve got to be exhausted by now,” he countered.

  Suddenly, Joe realised he was right. She certainly was exhausted, and nothing sounded better to her than a hot shower and cool sheets.

  “’K,” she answered gratefully, “but I’ve got it tomorrow.”

  “Deal,” he agreed, turning his back to her and grabbing three empty beer mugs.

  When Joe snuggled beneath the cool sheets, she glanced at the clock—2:45 a.m. Not bad, she thought. In town for a day and already have a job, a place to stay and one bad-ass, sexy boss as eye candy. What a deal!

  Chapter Three

  Fuckin’ Flying Fish

  1 3/4 oz good quality gin

  3/4 oz Triple Sec

  1/4 oz grenadine

  1 dash bitters

  Put in mixer, add crushed ice.

  Joe tipped her head sideways, allowing him access to her neck. She moaned as he nibbled his way down to the throbbing pulse at the base of her throat. He worked his way lower, blazing a trail with his tongue. She gripped the sheets beneath her when he flicked the tip of her nipple, lashing it to erectness.

  “Please,” she begged.

  “Please what?” Vince asked.

  “I can’t think.”

  “Then don’t. Just enjoy.” He captured her pink bud with his teeth.

  She yelped, enjoying the slight pain of the bite. He suckled, as if drawing pleasure from one breast while twisting and tweaking the other.

  He raised himself above her, positioning his body for conquest.

  “Vince, I…”

  “Shhh. No talking. You’re mine, now. I’ll do as I wish with you.”

  Joe nodded. She felt trapped, helpless. A victim of his power and desire. She couldn’t have been more aroused. She lifted her hips and felt the tip of his cock kiss her wet opening. He teased her, dipping in gently then pulling out. She tried to buck against him, but he pulled back.

  “Patience. I’ll fuck you, but when I’m good and ready. First, I plan on torturing you for a while. Now don’t make me tie you up.”

  Joe’s eyes widened. She’d never been tied up before, but the thought of it had her gushing sweet juices. Vince grinned, then, taking pity on her, plunged into her hot womb. She wrapped her legs around his waist, meeting each powerful thrust with her own. She clawed his back and felt his muscles tighten. She screamed out her joy as he buried his head in her neck. Still riding on waves of pleasure, she felt him raise himself and pull out of her. She cried out first in dismay but then in wonder as he painted her belly and breasts with his hot seed.

  Joe finally dragged her body out of bed around 10:30 Friday morning. Running a hand through her limp hair, she quickly decided a shower was definitely the first order of business. Considering the dream she’d just had, a cold one would probably be best. Standing beneath the stinging needles refreshed both her body and mind. Not one to linger, she quickly scrubbed her skin and shaved her underarms, legs and pubic area, hopped out of the stand-up shower and towelled off. Humming to herself, she applied her favourite lotion, enjoying the lavender scent. When her hand reached her left shoulder, she hesitated, feeling the permanently wrinkled skin.

  How long? she wondered. How long before I can look at or touch myself and not remember? Shaking off her sudden melancholy, she dressed simply in a pair of purple knickers, denim shorts and a bright purple T-shirt with the words ‘Blondes do it Better’ emblazoned across the front.

  Padding into the kitchen, she opened a cabinet and pulled out a small coffee maker. Another plus about this place was that it came furnished. Sure, the dishes were a bit chipped, the flatware didn’t match and the only usable skillet was cast-iron, but she wasn’t about to complain. Hell, the pantry even came supplied with basics like coffee, flour, sugar, salt, pepper, a few spices and one unopened box of cereal. She’d gotten by with a lot less, before. With the knowledge that hot coffee was soon to be hers, she sat down at the small kitchen table and began to make a list of chores for the day.

  First, she’d need to replenish some basic supplies like tampons, good coffee, milk and other necessities. Next, she’d need to call her folks and let them know her status. Then…

  Suddenly, the shrill ring of her mobile phone interrupted her thoughts.

  “Hello,” she answered quickly.

  “Baby Girl!”

  Joe grinned. “Hi, Dad. I was just about to call.”

  “Sure you were, sure you were. Just checking in on you, not that I’m checkin’ in,” Henry Dunes assured her.

  Joe’s grin widened as she heard the deep baritone and signature repetition of her father’s speech pattern. Through all life’s trials, joys, desperations, triumphs and failures, Henry Dunes had stood solidly by his children. Not one to judge harshly, he encouraged his kids to be creative, independent thinkers. He represented everything a truly good person should be, at least in Joe’s mind.

  “I’m good, Dad, really. I’ve got a job and a place to stay, at least for the time being.”

  “Already? Man, that’s a record even for you, Darlin’.” His voice boomed across the line.

  “What can I say? I guess I just fall in a pile of shit and come out smelling of roses,” she quipped back.

  Henry didn’t bother answering, but Joe had to hold the phone well away from her ear as his vivacious laugh roared through the receiver.

  “Good to hear, good to hear. Listen, Joe, I don’t want to bother you, but Sarah’s folks called yesterday,” he reluctantly admitted.

  Joe’s heart contracted, and she suddenly became very serious. “What about?”

  “Seems Cain’s becoming more of a handful than they are comfortable with. Last week he got into some trouble at school.”

  “What kind of trouble? He’s five, for God’s sake,” Joe said in exasperation. She closed her eyes and rubbed her head as she remembered Sarah. Sarah. After all this time, Joe still felt her throat contract as she thought of her. She and Sarah had been best friends all through middle and high school. Sarah, who stood by Joe no matter what. Sarah had tried so hard to please her upper middle class parents when all she really wanted to do was be an artist. Sarah, who had gotten pregnant after a one night stand six years ago and refused to name the father. Sarah, whose parents had thrown her out after discovering her ‘shame’. Sarah, who…

  Stop it! Joe told herself firmly. It’s Cain who matters now.

  Joe heard her father sigh over the airwaves before he continued. “That little scamp. Apparently, he didn’t like the idea of the goldfish in the classroom being confined to a tiny little bowl so he decided to…well…liberate them.”

  Joe didn’t bother to suppress the grin that tugged at the corners of her mouth. “Liberate?”

  “Seems he took it into his head that the fishies needed a bit more room to swim, so he dumped them into a bag, tied it shut and ran out of school,” Henry explained.

  “Go on,” Joe encouraged.

  “You remember that the school is close to the lake, right?”

  “Yeah.” Joe could just imagine what Cain had done.

  “Well, he dumped the little fishies into it, then he walked back to the classroo
m.”

  “That it?” she asked.

  “Nope,” Henry said baldly.

  “I figured.”

  “He was whistling,” Henry explained.

  “Whistling what?” Joe noted with relief that the coffee had finished brewing and began to pour herself a mug.

  “Sure you want to know?”

  “Go for it,” she answered, practically scalding her throat on the hot coffee.

  “You remember that song you used to sing to him?”

  “Oh, God.”

  “Yep. The Fish Head song,” he confirmed.

  Joe could almost see her father’s smile as she took another gulp of coffee. She and Sarah had taken turns singing the song to Cain when he was a baby.

  Fish heads, Fish heads,

  Roly Poly Fish heads.

  Suddenly, Joe saw the humour and had to giggle. Soon enough, both she and her father were laughing until they cried.

  “Seriously, Joe,” Henry said, suddenly sombre. “They’re talking about sending him to boarding school.”

  “Like hell they are!” Joe shouted.

  “Thought you’d take it that way, so I managed to talk ’em out of it, at least for this school year. Don’t know about next fall, though. Never seen anyone resent their own grandkid the way those folks do.”

  “True. But then again, they are raising the kid, not just visiting.” Joe ran a hand through her hair. “Thanks for the head’s up, Dad. I’ll start looking around here for good neighbourhoods, schools, that sort of thing. This is only September, so I’ve got a few months.”

  Joe and Henry chit chatted for a bit longer before finishing up the call.

  Fabulous, just fabulous. Joe looked around the tiny apartment in exasperation. Well, Sarah, at least I’ve got a new start. Hopefully I can make good on my promise soon, she thought. Realizing that sitting around would not do her any good, Joe grabbed her purse and headed out the door.

  Absorbed in her own thoughts, she didn’t really notice the other people on the busy sidewalk until she walked smack into a human wall. If The Wall hadn’t grabbed her shoulders, she’d have been flat on her ass on the sidewalk.