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Gator Tail Trailer Park No. 8
By Bo Dunne
~~ Previously published as “Knight Spy” ~~
~~ All characters in this book are 18 or older. ~~
Mattie walked back to the only table in the Grillin’ Gator Bar that still had a customer. She exaggerated the sway of her walk, making her boobs bounce at the same time, because her customer had been flirting with her ever since he came in. She sensed he would tip her well and she was already thinking about inviting him home with her tonight. “Last call. Would you like another?”
“I’m fine,” said Marco, a first-time patron who had introduced himself earlier. Since then, he had eyed her cleavage, nursed a couple of beers, and munched on deep-fried gator nuggets. He was well dressed in a crisp orange dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up on his muscular arms. He wore gray slacks with sharp creases. His facial features were chiseled nicely and he had a full head of curly black hair. “May I?” He held up two twenty-dollar bills.
“What?” Mattie gave him a big smile, but she didn’t understand the question. She was forty-one years old and had been a barmaid here since her twenties. Mattie had never married and her son from a quick fling, Connor, was eighteen and attended the University of Florida. Very few questions in the bar surprised her nowadays.
She judged Marco to be in his mid-thirties and his attention made her self-conscious. Her curly brown Irish hair was damp and hot. Per usual at work, she wore a low-cut, clinging top and a very short skirt. Tonight the skirt was a metallic blue and her lace panties were a contrasting green. Short and curvy with a classic hourglass shape, she knew that the blue skirt pulled up whenever she bent forward over a table and therefore got the attention of male customers behind her, if any were present. Her legs weren’t long, but the constant work at the bar kept them toned. Even now, in middle age, she was a free spirit and a size queen. Unfortunately, this was just a slow night.
“I don’t get it,” she said, eyeing the twenty-dollar bills in Marco’s hand.
“Let me show you,” said Marco, still smiling. He turned his chair toward her. “Come here.”
Puzzled, she stepped closer. “Show me what?”
Marco looked pointedly at the deep cleavage of her 36C boobs, which were snug in a light green top.
Stifling a laugh, she bent down low in front of him.
“This one’s for the beer and snacks, plus whatever’s leftover for you.” With two fingers, he slid a folded twenty into her cleavage and took his time, leaving his warm fingers trapped between the firm flesh of her boobs.
“Having fun?” Mattie teased. She shook her shoulders, making her boobs sway while his fingers were still stuck between them.
“I’m having lots of fun.” He took his fingers out, leaving the folded bill in place.
“Are you?” Mattie glanced over her shoulder to make sure her boss, Otto, and the other barmaid tonight, her friend Kathy, were still in the back. Then she took hold of her light green top and pulled it up to her neck, revealing a white lace bra holding up her big globes, straining the bra straps. The twenty-dollar bill was still in place. “Thank you, Marco.”
He held up the second folded twenty. “This one’s all for you.” He slipped it into her cleavage the same way, taking his time with his fingers between her fleshy mounds. “This bar can’t always be so dead. Where is everybody?”
“Every night’s different. It’s a highway stop on a Thursday night.” She shrugged, making her boobs bounce a little. “I guess you’re just passing through yourself.”
“That’s true. I’m your basic Florida Italian, on the road. My grandparents moved down here from Brooklyn years ago. Say, I saw a guy working the register earlier. Did he and that other barmaid go into the back and leave you stranded out here?”
“I guess so.” Mattie wiggled her boobs again. “More tips for me.” She was remembering that she had heard in years past that ethnic Italian men were hung.
“You deserve to be rewarded.” He finally drew his hand away.