I own a bar. Sam applied for a job. Needless to say, she got hired.
One of the best things about being in charge at work, is you get to hire employees. One of our staff members moved to another part of the country, so we needed someone new. Several people applied, but it was quite obvious from the start that Samantha had the upper hand. Not because she was more qualified than the others. Just because she was unimaginably hot.
Perhaps that’s a bit shallow. Perhaps even wrong. But there are two reasons why I hired her and not the other, slightly less dashing creatures. Research has shown over and over again, people drink more when there’s a hot girl serving their drinks. That, combined with the prospect of getting to watch her body swirl and twirl about night after night, made the decision, be it a tad hollow, one of the easiest ones I’ve had to make since I took over the bar.
Samantha, or Sam, as she preferred to be called, had some experience as a waitress at a downtown lunchroom. She had visited the bar a few times before, and she was dying to show what she was capable of. Motivation is a beautiful thing. I foisted the task of showing her the ropes upon myself, this time for fully legitimate reasons: I knew the weekend crowds could be awful to deal with, especially when the smell of new blood was in the air.
I figured Sam deserved an easy start, so I scheduled her for the Tuesday night shift. She did well, serving the locals their drinks as quickly as she could and keeping the bar clean and tidy. As time passed, even most of the regulars started to disappear. There were no more than twenty people left, and most of them were involved in a poker game that seemed to last forever. Sam was getting bored, so I told her she could start cleaning up early, leaving less work to be done after closing time.
Sam happily took a bucket of water and a floorcloth, kneeled down and started scrubbing. I wasn’t sure whether she did it on purpose, but her underwear was clearly visible over the waist of her jeans – in fact, my eyes could precisely follow the contours of her thong until it vanished between her buttocks. I could swear she slowly wiggled her butt at me, too.
She stood up and started cleaning the bar. As I helped out a few regulars with their last refills, I couldn’t help but notice Sam was trying to stand closer to me. I let her, even bumped into her once or twice, to gauge her reaction. She merely laughed. Bluntly, I stroked a lock of hair out of her face and behind her ear. She stood unmoved, gazing at me, a slack smile on her face. As she turned around and went back to cleaning the bar, I placed my body directly behind hers, ran my finger over her legs and curled her top upwards a few inches. She threw her head back for a brief moment, then continued cleaning, but staying in the same spot as she did so.
As I walked away to help clean up the tables the poker players had been using, I firmly grabbed Sam’s but to make abundantly clear the earlier touches weren’t accidental. The game was done, and it was time for the few remaining guests to leave for the night. I let the last of them out and locked the door, pretending that was something I did every day. Sam stood behind the bar and looked at me, as little of an expression on her face as possible. It must have been terrifying for her, even if this was what she wanted: one wrong move and she could lose her new job before she had properly started it.
I walked around the bar, not keeping my eyes off of Sam, who remained motionless the entire time. As I stood behind her, I grabbed her waist with both hands and pushed my body against hers. She put her hands flat on the table and let me feel her up. A slow but steady beat came out of the speakers, numbing any sounds she might have been making. I reached around her and unbuttoned her jeans. As I pulled them down – Sam wiggled her hips to help me – I bent forward and kissed her shoulder, across her neck, and all the way up to her ear. I could now hear her breathe and feel the warmth of her skin against mine.
One hand reached into her panties and started to rub her lips, which were quickly getting soggy; with the other hand, I unbuckled my belt, lowering my pants and shorts just enough to free myself. Sam bent over the bar, laying her arms flat on it, her forehead resting on the back of her hands. I stood back and pulled her thong aside. With the piece of underwear leaving just a big enough gap, I made myself hard, lined up and slowly slid my dick inside her. She moaned, even though it was just the tip, and the moaning continued as I went in further. Three quarters of the way in, I let go of myself and took hold of her hips with both hands, pulling her towards me to cover the final two-ish inches. As my legs touched hers, she shouted an expletive, but quickly regained her composure.
I started moving back and forth, sliding into her with more ease every single time. The friction disappeared and made way for suction, as if I was engulfed in quicksand. Sam raised her body up and tilted her head back, throwing her hair into my face. She reached over her head and put her arms around my neck, pulling herself against me. My hands drifted over her body, grabbing her breasts and squeezing them tightly, then moving downward again, rubbing the wet spot that formed where her legs met.
As I felt I had reached maximum thrust, and – more importantly – maximum penetration, I slid out, gave Sam a firm smack on her buttocks and guided her around the bar, leaving her pants on the floor. I picked her up and laid her down on the poker table. There were chips everywhere and playing cards were sticking to her body. I yanked her thong from her hips and let it hang from one foot, then stood in front of her, waiting for her to throw her legs around me. She looked at me, grinning, biting her lip. The adorable look on her face quickly changed as I shoved my dick into her. I placed my hands on her shoulders and fucked her, pushing her down on the table. The wooden table legs squeaked under the tension of my thrusts, the leaf moving several inches at the time.
Suddenly, Sam grabbed my hair and held on tight, whispering “I’m there, I’m there” in a continuous manner. A deep orgasmic wave travelled through her body, leaving a grimace on her face. Her contracting muscles made it impossible for me to hold back any longer. A final, rough move was plenty to push me over the edge – but also plenty to push the table leaf over its tipping point. I had wanted to pull out just in time to avoid awkward conversations afterwards, but instead, the crashing table pushed me deeper into her. Sam screamed. Loud cracking noises disguised my own moaning. By the time I had managed to pull myself out, most of my juices had been shot deep inside her. I stuttered a few quick apologies, but Sam, after a brief moment of pure silence, cracked up. She couldn’t stop laughing, and neither could I.
As the both of us finally eased down, I gave her a quick, wet kiss on her lips and helped her up. Sam put her pants back on and I buckled up, watching her struggling to get her jeans over her hips. She kept grinning and rubbed her tongue over her teeth. When she finally looked somewhat normal, I unlocked the door and let her out. As she passed me, she gave me a quick kiss on my cheek, stepped away, came back, and gave me another kiss on my lips.
Then she disappeared into the night. I knew it wouldn’t be the last time I’d see her naked. Friday, during her second shift, neither of us felt the need to speak about what had happened – but both of us hoped it would soon happen again.