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Gator Tail Trailer Park No. 5
By Bo Dunne
Previously published as “Knight Rescue”
~~ All characters in this book are 18 or older. ~~
Mattie locked the front door to the Grillin’ Gator Bar and switched on the red “Closed” sign. At the end of a busy shift waiting on customers, she was sweaty and exhausted late into the night. She and the other barmaid, Kathy, still had to wipe down every table.
“I’ll take the right side,” said Kathy, holding up a damp rag.
“Okay, I got the left covered,” said Mattie. She paused to adjust the bra holding up her 36C boobs. Most of her tips probably came because of the deep V in the snug blue top she wore. This had been a good night.
Mattie had been a free spirit all her life but not every day was a good one. A single mother, she was forty-one years old and had never married. Her son from a quick fling, Connor, was eighteen. Though shy and clumsy around girls, he was highly intelligent and attended the University of Florida on a full-ride scholarship. He was great with software and electronics of all kinds even in high school. The closet in his room was full of all sort of cables, wires, and other things she couldn’t identify. Someday, he promised, she would not have to work ever again. He planned to buy her a real house, so she could leave the single-wide trailer where she had raised him.
“Your turn tonight, Mattie,” Otto called from the kitchen. He was owner and manager of the roadside bar in rural Florida.
Mattie was disgusted, but said nothing.
A very big fish in a very small pond, Otto had hired Mattie and Kathy when they were twenty-something mothers. He knew they valued their jobs in part because they lived in the GatorTail Trailer Park across the two-lane, blacktop highway. If he fired them, they would have to go a lot farther for work. Other women from the trailer park also worked here, because the two-minute walking commute was impossible to beat.
“Mattie, you hear me?” Otto demanded.
“I heard you,” Mattie called back, as she bent over a table to wipe it down with a wet rag.
She figured Otto was watching her from the kitchen right now. Her curly brown Irish hair was damp and hot. Her arm motion made her boobs sway in the blue pullover. She knew her butt was shifting with each move in her short, black skirt and that bending forward showed off her legs. Otto was probably looking up her skirt at her blue lace panties, too. She wasn’t very tall, so her legs weren’t long, but the constant work at the bar kept them toned. The clothes allowed her to show some tits, ass, and legs to keep the tips coming from male customers. Sometimes, when she took a liking to an unattached guy, she’d flirt with him until he got the message and came home with her. Even now, in middle age, she was a free spirit—and a size queen.
“Hurry up with those tables,” Otto called.
“I won’t be long,” she shouted back.
The problem for Mattie and Kathy was that Otto demanded favors from them, and other women who worked her, for the privilege of working at the Grillin’ Gator Bar. Some women refused to pay that price and moved on. Those who stayed, including Mattie, Kathy, and some other friends, accepted the favors as part of the job.
Elsewhere, in the real world of big office buildings and sharp lawyers, sexual harassment on the job was a big deal. Otto was a dinosaur. He worried about sexual harassment as much as a plastic triceratops. Mattie didn’t see any way to sue him, since her claim would be his word against hers—even if Kathy joined in, they would be dealing with he-said, they-said. Besides, what lawyer would bother suing a roadside bar in this backwoods neighborhood? No attorney who was good enough to make real money doing something else, like suing a big corporate business that had insurance to pay for settlements for sexual harassment, would bother.
“Finish the damn tables faster,” Otto yelled back.
Kathy gave Mattie a sympathetic glance and whispered, “Sorry, hang in there. The bastard fucked me last night. My pussy’s still sore.”
Mattie shrugged. “It’s my turn.”