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"Oh, it doesn't matter to me. As long as I get to take it off someone cute." She looks to me, noting my stiff posture and my button-up shirt. "But most girls don't like to see their boyfriend with another woman." She looks back to Daphne. "Course, we could use you as the canvas for his."
Daphne doesn't correct her. "Absolutely."
"And, well, it's a little unusual, but we could use him for yours too." She looks around the bar. "Not strictly protocol but my manager is on break."
"You have to follow rules here?" Daphne asks.
"Of course, hon. That free-spirited attitude is built on something. But probably less than you two." She smiles. "You're a cute couple. What do you want to drink?"
"What do you think, Jackson?" Daphne turns to me with a smile as wide as the bartender's. She's enjoying teasing me.
"Men always seem to want to watch their ladies throw back a blow job," the bartender says. "Never want to drink one themselves."
Daphne laughs. "No. Jackson is more the generous type. Do you have a cunnilingus shot?"
"You know, we don't." The bartender taps her chin. "That ain't fair, is it? But you know what. I'll fix ya something. Do you like peach schnapps?"
Who likes peach schnapps?
Daphne notes the horror on my face and smiles even wider. "We love peach schnapps. Thanks."
"You want to go first. Or your man here?" the bartender asks.
"Ladies first," Daphne says.
"Okay, sir, hop up here." The bartender pats the bar.
"You want me to sit on the bar?" I ask.
She giggles. "You've never done a body shot, huh?" She pats the bar. Lay down here. And don't fall. My manager will kill me.
"He does martial arts," Daphne says. "He's in great shape. Balance, strength, and endurance."
Does she believe all that, or is she fucking with me?
It's all true, but why is she thinking about it? A normal doctor-like interest in health. Or questions she asks herself about my stamina. Or both.
No. It doesn't matter.
I'm her wingman right now. That's all.
"I love that in a man." The bartender smiles and motionsone minute. She turns to the bottles to fix drinks.
Daphne motionsafter youthis time.
This is fun. A normal, fun activity. Not an excuse for Daphne to touch me. Or suck things from my body.
I need to get those ideas out of my head.
The bar is high, but it's easy to slide up and lie flat. It's strange, looking up at the bright lights, the guitars on the wall, Daphne.
This is just the angle I'd have if I was under her. I can see the bottom of her bra. The light blue lace. Opaque.
She'd look hot as fuck in sheer black mesh.
Does she dress up to seduce boyfriends? Or does she do it for herself?
The bartender interrupts my dirty thoughts. "Okay, hon, where do you want it. The mouth or the belly button."
