"Thanks for coming in Mr. Hornaby," I said as a nice looking middle-aged man settled into the chair on the other side of my coffee table.
"My pleasure, ma'am," he responded in a soft baritone voice, crossing his legs and folding his hands in his lap. Nice hands, I thought. Kind of artistic looking, with long fingers and neatly trimmed fingernails.
I chuckled: "No need to call me "ma'am", Mr. Hornaby. Nicole will do fine."
"Yes ma'a... I mean, Nicole." He had a nice smile, too. I tried not to like him too much at this point. A lot remained to be seen.
"So, you do understand what this job is about don't you?," I asked.
"It's a bartender position at a private party? A one night stand, so to speak? That's what the ad indicated, anyway."
"That's correct. It'll start around 8:00PM and run into the early morning hours with no set time limit. I expect 15 to 20 guests, so you'd be on your feet for a long time. I'd also expect you to take care of the clean-up afterwards. Would you be up for that?"
He nodded, "I don't see why not. I've tended bar for a little over two years and have gone the distance more than once. And my previous job required me to be on my feet a lot."
Only two years? That could be a problem since my guests liked a wide variety of mixed drinks. But I was curious... "May I ask: what did you do before?"
He spread his hands, shrugged his shoulders: "I was a professor at a community college, teaching history, Engish literature, and sometimes anthropology."
Interesting. I supposed he'd make a good conversationalist for the guests who like to hang around the bar. There's always a few who don't mix very well. "So what happened?," I asked.
Another shrug. "Cut-backs, layoffs. The Recession, you know. "I suppose watching Porn on the schools computer played some part".
"I see. But with your limited experience, do you mind if I quiz you a little bit?"
"Sure thing. Shoot." No lack of confience there!
"Okay, how about a Bloody Mary?"
He didn't skip a beat: "1 part vodka, 1 part lemon drop shots, 3 parts Bloody Mary Mix, splash of chilled Worcestershire, stir and garnish with just about anything the customer wants: olive, celery, bacon, cheese, whatever."
Pretty good!, I thought, although I'd never heard of bacon or cheese as garnishes. "Okay," I said, "how about a tough one. How about a banana mai tai?"
"Whew!," he grumbled, or maybe just pretended to, since he was still smiling. "That's a tough one! Let's see... umm... tall glass, 1 part Black Strap rum, 1 part creme de banana, 1 part each of pineapple and fresh orange juice, splash of grenadine, start from the bottom with the creme de banana, next the juices, and float the grenadine over them, then..
"Whoa!," I laughed. "You're way ahead of me! I think you've passed!" While I was chuckling I uncrossed and recrossed my legs. His smile disappeared and one eybrow went up almost to his hairline. I began to think maybe I'd dressed too casually for this interview... just the kind of thing I normally wear around the house: a not-quite sheer robe with a long split up the front below the waist.
"Ahem," I said.
"Ahem," he responded, his smile returning. We both laughed, perhaps a little nervously.
"So," I went on, "do you understand the dress code for the occasion?"
I just figured I'd be wearing slacks, an open-necked shirt, nice shoes..."
"No," I interrupted. You'll be wearing a cummerbund and a bow tie."
He squirmed a bit, said "Well, my tux is pretty old and it's in mothballs. So I'm not sure..."
Apparently I hadn't been all that clear in my ad. "No, the cummerbund and tie are all you'll be wearing. I have them here if you'd like to try them on."
"All... ALL I'll be wearing?
"Sure," I responded. It's a birthday party for my girlfiend and our friends, and they dress any way they like, sometimes very... revealing."
"I see, I think," he stuttered. That's kind of new to me, but I guess I could go along with it. Just a cummerbund and a bow tie?"
I uncrossed my legs and leaned forward to emphasize my point. Oops. His eyes widened, and his casually folded hands crept over closer to his "manhood", pushing down a protruberance there. I guess I should've worn panties, although I've seen many mens' eyes widen at just the sight of my bare thighs. Honestly, I like them so much myself that I sometimes catch myself staring at them and stroking them with my own hands. Mmmm... yes, well... ahem.
"That's right, but it's not what you might think. It won't be an orgy or anything like that. Just some girls with no hang-ups about their bodies, who like to enjoy the company of others who like the same sense of freedom from silly modesty."
I realized it sounded like I was lecturing him about free and open girl parties, so went back to the business at hand. "It's a cash bar, so your pay would be 25% of receipts, with nothing withheld for the supplies. Those are on me. How does that sound?"
I didn't quite catch his reply. It was mumbled and a little incoherent, and I realized I hadn't recrossed my legs. Oops again (or was it intentional?... this was a very good-looking man, with smoky eyes and a certain "twinkle" in them.)
"Of course," I went on, "this should be a very nice take for you. Maybe enough to partake in more "intimate" fun after you've cleaned up the bar and everyone's left, if you wanted to." (I was really getting into this man, and couldn't stop myself!)
I didn't wait for his reaction to that suggestion, but plunged right back in. "So, I guess it's time for a dress rehearsal. Here's the cummerbund and bow tie. Try them on, please."
He pulled up his collar and fumbled with the wrap-around bow tie. "Um, no, Mr. Hornaby. I'm afraid I'll have to ask you to dress as you would at the party: just the cummbund and tie, no other clothing."
"But... but..." he stammered. "I don't think I can stand up right now!"
I allowed myself a girlish giggle. "Sure you can. It's not like I've never seen a naked man before, Mr. Hornaby. What's your first name, by the way?"
"Sam," he replied as he slowly stood up, bent over slightly at the waist. ("Sam"... one my favorite names: the kind of name that suggests a friendly, open nature. Better and better!)
He removed his shirt: very nice. Not a gym denizen by any means, but nice and full without being at all tubby. Very huggable. Then the trousers, although he turned his back to me while he pulled them down. He fumbled the tie and cummerbund on somewhat clumsily, then half turned his upper body to me.
"Is this okay?," he asked?
"Well no, Sam," I replied, although he had really cute buns. You can't tend bar with your back turned, you know."
"Okay then," he sighed resignedly, and turned around. "It's kind of... embarrassing," he muttered.
I've seen plenty of "blue-veiners" in my time, but I think this was my first sight of a true "diamond cutter". Wow. Not overly large, but rock hard, almost parallel to the floor with no droop at all.
"Can you, um, "control" that, Sam?"
"Well, mostly I guess," while trying to cover it with his hands. he wasn't successful. His hands were long but too slender, not nearly enough to do the cover-up he seemed to want.
"I'm not always like this," he went on. "Just when I'm especially turned on. I guess I should aplogize, but you know... your outfit, the thought of tending bar to a room full of women dressed to the nines and being the only man present...", he trailed off, still trying to cover up his erection.
I looked him up and down. Certainly no "Arnold", but very nicely proportioned, especially for a man his age. Then I looked up at his face. He was looking down at me, below eye level: his eyes had become utterly smoky, and his lips were slighted parted. I suddenly realized that as I'd been leaning forward for a closer look, my knees had parted even farther, and the upper part of my robe had fallen open. And I knew - without touching - that I was wet.
I sat back, closed the robe and crossed my legs. it felt good. "Well, Sam, you're hired if you want the job."
"I, uh, do!" he gibbered back at me. "And... and...," he went on, "that part about after the party? After everyone's leaves? I hope my take of the proceeds will be enough... but even if it isn't, I've got..."
"Say no more, Sam," I responded, breathing rather heavily myself. "Consider it a done deal, all the way around. All of it."
This was going to be very, very nice. And almost the perfect definition of a good conract... a contract where both parties believe they've gotten the better end of the deal. We smiled at each other, heavy-lidded, as he got dressed.
But you know, "the best laid plans of mice and men..." and so on.
I should've been pleased that ValerieXXX, Courtney, Haley and Terrilyn all showed up for the party. We could all have fun together... except for Sam. He looked adorable in his cummerbund and bow tie! At one point he tried to cover himself with a short apron, but the girls would have none of it it. The bulge was too obvious.
As the drinks flowed , Piece by piece, the girls stripped down, flashing gorgeous tits and open, welcoming thighs, and the effect on Sam was more than any man could ignore. The drinks he mixed became absurd mixtures of conflicting tastes - papaya juice in a Manhattan? - and one of the girls - I didn't see which one - went around the counter, lifted his silly apron and took his his cock into her mouth. Whoa!
That set off a contest: each girl competing for Sam's attention, and eventually my living room was a Frederick's of Hollywood ad of bras and panties, flung everywhere. Ladies slow dancing boob to boob .I won't even touch on what happened on my dining room table. I tried to keep up - thinking about the promise of the interview - but even in my sexiest babydoll outfit (and it's hot!) - how could I compete those luscious bodies swarming all over Sam like horny panthers?
And besides, I was the hostess... and it would've been rude to stake a claim on Sam.
The hostess, what a burden. So I just flopped down on a couch while three or four of the girls led and pushed Sam up the stairs to one of my bedrooms. While ascending the stairs Sam looked over his shoulder as if to say "I'm sorry", but it wasn't his fault. And besides, several of my guests who'd been left out of the Sam orgy settled down on the couch next to me, turned on as much as I was. Their hands and lips stroked me, caressed me - lovely! - so the evening wasn't going be a total loss after all.
As we got into each other - the girls and I - the giggles and moans from upstairs just added to our pleasure in each other.
Oh!, what a night! And who knew?... perhaps Sam would have the stamina to complete our "contract" after all, after everyone else had left. That remained to be seen, but in the meanwhile... oh, that's delicious, right THERE!