Page 2 of Sour Brew Face

Langston Mayes 2.

My feet hurt and I’m covered in beer and it’s only 6 o’clock. This is going to be a long fucking night. But at least we’re busy, and that’s kind of my entire goal in owning a bar. Busy means patrons, which means bar sales, which means money in my bank account. And if they are happy patrons, they come back and bring friends. It’s the circle of life…well, my life at least.

I look up from the taps when the door opens. I grin when I see the Ordinary Guys Brewing team walk in. I’ve met the guys behind Ordinary Guys, and they might be ordinary in appearance and personality, but they know how to brew a good fucking beer. Several in fact.

My gaze shifts to the tall woman walking in behind them. She’s absolutely fucking gorgeous. The sound of the room fades in and out as I take in her long legs, trim body, luscious mouth. Is she with them? Is she dating one of the ordinary guys? She laughs at something Seth says and I grip the bar top a little too hard. My grip loosens when she punches his shoulder and makes a jerk off gesture. Not dating. Women don’t behave like that when they’re dating someone. At least none that I’ve ever dated.

They wave to me on their way to find a table. I point over to the corner where I reserved a large round table for them. A few chin nods and they’re on their way. My eyes follow every step of her toned legs, every flex of her tight little ass, the slight bounce of her small tits. I chuckle to myself when she smacks Esteban on the back of the head and points her finger at the others. She looks like a mom scolding her wayward children.

My dick twitches in my pants at the thought of her reprimanding me…naked.

“Lang, dude, move your ass.” Jesse, one of my bartenders, hip checks me and takes over my spot in front of the taps. He pours three beers while eyeing me warily. “What’s wrong?”

I stare at him with my eyebrow quirked. “What do you mean? Nothing’s wrong.”

“Your face keeps shifting and contorting…its making me queasy.”

“What do you mean? I’m smiling.”

“I know. It’s unnatural.”

“Fuck off.” I bark, walking to the other end of the bar with his laughter following behind me. I help a few customers, fill orders for Betsy and Chelsea, two of my waitresses, all the while keeping my eyes on the Ordinary Guys table. Ok, so not the table, per se, but the woman who is sitting at it, sucking all the oxygen out of the room with just her smile. I snag my other waitress Megan as she passes by.

“Hey, can you take care of table 37? They’re from Ordinary Guys Brewing.” Her eyes light up as she leans to the side to see them.

“That shit is amazing, everyone is loving it. Especially the Ishaan.” Smiling, I point my finger at the table and over to the Indian gentleman currently smooshing his face like a fish.

“That’s Ishaan.” Megan giggles watching him. She drops her tray on the bar, fluffs her boobs, smooths down her shirt, straightens her skirt, then picks her tray back up and saunters to their table. I laugh, grabbing the next order. She’s shameless.

A few minutes later, a booming laugh and a girlish giggle grab my attention. At a high-top table not far from the bar, two men are sitting on stools, while three women drape themselves all over them. The men are eating up the attention. I roll my eyes and get back to the customers in front of me.

When I look at my girl again, she’s frowning in the direction of the high-top table. The Ordinary Guys are throwing murderous glares at one of the men in particular. Paul makes to stand up, but my girl puts her hand on his arm to stop him. They exchange a few words, she shrugs, then stands herself. With a confidence I don’t think I’ve ever seen in a woman before, she walks over to the high-top table and steps right up to the man with too much product in his hair, a pink colored V-neck shirt, blue chino shorts, and boat shoes. I glance around my bar making sure we aren’t on a yacht. Nope, still a bar in the middle of the city.

She opens her mouth and honestly, I think I fall a little in love with her right then and there.

Mo 3.

“Free beer is like a sore dick; you just can’t beat it.” Seth jokes. I groan, staring at him.

“What is with you guys and wanting to beat things? Is it a man thing? Do I lack the adequate levels of testosterone to enjoy beating…people or penises?”

“It’s a man thing, Mo. If you had a penis, you’d think about beating it off all the time. You have a clit though; do you think about it flicking it incessantly?” I shake my head at Dave’s question.

“No. I can’t say that I do. I feel that I think about it a normal amount.” I gaze up to the ceiling trying to think about how often I think about masturbating.

“I bet you thought about it a lot when having sex with Jack.” Ishaan says quietly, but not enough that we don’t hear him. I gasp in shock…that he guessed correctly. I nod slowly.

“Yeah, I can’t argue with that.” I freeze at a sound I have unfortunately become familiar with. My eyes flit across the room of drunk patrons until I land on the back of Jack’s head. Of course, it’s difficult to see him since there is a woman clinging to him better than any cling wrap I’ve ever used. That shit’s tricky.

“Isn’t that…?” Paul’s question trails off as I nod my head, faster this time. We all stare at my supposed boyfriend enjoying a drink with his slimy friend Dane as three women fawn all over them. I want to be mad…I really do. But I just can’t work up any other emotion besides resignation and maybe a hint of relief. We weren’t working at all. And honestly, this is not a surprising turn of events in my life.

I stop Paul from getting up and decide to pull up my big girl thong and finally end this properly. “I got it, but thanks.” Paul nods, all the boys have their jaws clenched and their hands curled into fists. It’s sweet they want to protect me.

I walk over to Jack’s table and the young woman with her tongue on his neck sees me approach. Her eyes get wide, and she steps back. I give her a nod of thanks and take her place. Not with my tongue, just proximity.

Jack glances my way and rears back in surprise, obviously not expecting me. His surprise quickly morphs into a lazy grin, and he shrugs, like what can you do. I can do a lot of things and most of them involve pain. Not mine of course. But I’m quickly getting over it the longer I stare at this handsome face and empty eyes. He’s all surface and no substance. There is nothing of value between his ears and what’s between his legs ain’t nothing to brag about. I don’t care about size, I care about how you use it to make me cum, which he didn’t.

“Hey, babe. I’m ‘working’,” he looks around and spots my table immediately, letting me know he already saw me here and did this on purpose. I loathe immature men, “how’s their celebration going?”

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