James Armstrong - Young mothers work harder

If it weren't for her legs, she would starve to death. Now, those same legs that brought subsistence for her and Danny were bringing her trouble.

No one was bothering her, but Donna sensed trouble coming as she walked between tables in the dimly lit barroom, carrying the plastic tray with empties back to her place behind the bar. It warn a slow night, she only had fifteen minutes left until closing time and there were only five people left. The halfway-drunk couple seated at the bar, the elderly white-haired man just coming back from the restroom to his barstool, and the two guys sitting, at the table in the darkest corner. It was the curly haired good-looking guy she knew as Tony. Every time she walked past that table he looked at her like he was seeing right through her skimpy outfit, and in his eyes there was more than mild interest.

She reached down and tipped up the mirror she kept below the bar. Her blue satin dress almost covered the tops of her sheer stockings and the little round garters that held them up. The stockings and garters were twisted a little out of place, so she straightened them. As she wiggled her ass and swayed back and forth in front of the mirror, her breath caught in her throat at the sight of her own bare thighs above the garters.

Four months before, when she'd started running the bar, she'd worn pantyhose under her uniform, and the tips she'd gotten had been pretty small. As soon as she started showing a little bare legs above her stockings, the tips started getting bigger. Finally, she shortened the uniform dress so it showed a little of her ass whenever she bent over a table.

She needed the tips to live on. Her pay for running the bar, and being the sole employee, was the minimum wage, that and free rent in a shabby little apartment upstairs. On a good night she got double her wages in tips. It was enough to support herself and little baby, Danny. But it was barely enough.

She shrugged and checked for last drinks before closing time. The old man was on his feet, reeling toward the door. The halfway drunk couple still had their glasses nearly full, enough to last them the ten minutes remaining. Donna picked up her tray and walked back among the tables.

As she approached the table in the corner, she flipped her flowing blonde hair forward over her shoulders and smiled.

"How 'bout it, fellas? Last call."

The skinny man she knew as Bill said, "Guess I'm okay, Donna."

Tony looked up. "I'll have another."

There was a big wet spot on their table. Donna set her tray down, slipped clean coasters under their glasses, and took a napkin and mopped at the spilled drink.

Like lightning, Tony's hands darted up her dress, grabbed the elastic of her panties, snatched them down to her knees and let them fall around her ankles.

Donna was too startled by his speed to react. She kept smiling as she finished wiping the wet spot. Then she stepped out of the nylon cloth and kicked her panties under the table.

"One more, coming up," she said as she turned and started back toward the bar.

All the way to the bar, she wondered if she was doing the smart thing. She could have taken her drink tray and bashed Tony over the head with it. It would serve him right, but maybe it would be over-reacting.

She mixed the drink, took it on the tray back to the table and set it down, standing as far back as she could and still reach the table. While she picked up the empty glass, Tony's hands moved like lightning again.

One hand grabbed her asscheek under her dress and pulled her toward him. She took a step to regain her balance, her feet now spread wide. His other hand went up her dress to her crotch, rubbing over her cunthair.

His hand was warm as his finger slipped up into her outer fold and pushed through her inner cuntslit. As though obeying some instinct, her ass rolled down and her hips rocked up as his fingers slipped deep into her cunt, bringing a wave of tingling warmth with it. Furtively, she glanced around. The drunken couple was oblivious. The skinny man at the table just looked amused.

Tony let his finger slip down, then he slowly ran it back up, crooked just inside her inner cuntlips.

"Oh!"

The electric flash jerked her hips forward as his fingertip touched the nub of her clit.

Donna stood with her cunt impaled on his finger until her breathing slowed, then she bent down and murmured in his ear, "What, do you want?"

"I want to see you after closing," he said.

"Get rid of your friend and we'll talk about it."

He nodded slightly and loosened his grasp on her asscheek. His hand was motionless as she straightened her legs, slipping her cunt up off his finger. Still smiling, she backed away and turned and walked behind the bar.

A few minutes later, she announced that it was closing time. When the last of the customers had gone, she locked the door.

Wondering if she'd done the smart thing, she strutted back to the table where Tony waited. She stopped in front of him and stood with her hands on her hips.

"Well, Tony," she said, "what did you want to see me about?"

Tony smiled and reached out, slid his hands up her thighs over her stockings and garters, inside her dress and grasped the soft flesh of her naked hips. His grip was firm but not hard enough to hurt.

"I'm sorry if I embarrassed you in front of Bill," he said, "but I had to find out if you have what it takes."

"What it takes for, what?"

"What it takes to work in a better place than this."

She couldn't keep from laughing. "Any place is a better place than this. Well, do I have what it takes?"

"Maybe," he said. "I run a restaurant called the Palomino. It's a real class act. You could make double the tips you get here. You handled yourself just fine a few minutes ago like a customer had too much to drink but you didn't piss him off. Just one thing any girl that works at the Palomino has to be a real looker."

"Well, am I?"

"I think so," he said. "But I can't tell for sure."

"Well, this dress isn't very concealing."

"I know, but I need to see more of you." She shrugged. It sounded like a line of bullshit, but she liked being looked at. If he was nice to her, she'd take off everything but her earrings.

While he held her by the hips, she reached her arms back and drew the zipper on her dress all the way down to her ass. She bent her waist back, leaning against the support of his hands on her hips, and watched his eyes as she took the hem of her dress and slowly drew it up, off her hips, up over her waist and over her tits. His eyes followed the hem up to where her lacy bra was exposed, then they dropped back to her cunt.

She drew the dress up over her head and tossed it on the nearby table. His eyes rose to follow her hands as they unclasped the hook on the front of her bra. The cups stuck to her tits momentarily, then came loose as she drew the straps back. Her tits jiggled slightly, then remained pointed firmly forward.

Wearing only her gold earrings, high heels, stockings, and the little encircling garters, she stood in his grasp while his eyes traveled down from her flowing blonde hair to her hair-lined pussy.

His hands were surprisingly strong on her hips as he twisted his arms, making her bend her knees, tilting her pelvis forward. Standing as she was with her legs spread, she was sure he could look right into her cunt.

He said, "Donna, you are really built. What are your statistics?"

"Oh, about five-two, a hundred ten pounds, thirty-three, twenty-three, thirty-four."

"I've never seen nicer legs than yours."