Whats Your Pleasure
Read Whats Your Pleasure Online
Authors: Marie Haynes
A Total-E-Bound Publication
www.total-e-bound.com
What’s Your
Pleasure
ISBN #
978-0-85715-054-7
©Copyright Marie Haynes 2010
Cover Art by Lyn Taylor ©Copyright March 2010
Edited by Janice Bennett
Total-E-Bound Publishing
This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher, Total-E-Bound Publishing.
Applications should be addressed in the first instance, in writing, to Total-E-Bound Publishing. Unauthorised or restricted acts in relation to this publication may result in civil proceedings and/or criminal prosecution.
The author and illustrator have asserted their respective rights under the Copyright Designs and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book and illustrator of the artwork.
Published in 2010 by Total-E-Bound Publishing, Think Tank,
Way
Warning:
This book contains sexually explicit content which is only suitable for mature readers. This story has been rated
Total-e-burning.
Pleasure
WHAT’S YOUR PLEASURE
Marie Haynes
Dedication
To my Circle of Friends.
Without you guys, I’d never have made it this far. I love you all.
Trademarks Acknowledgement
The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following
wordmarks
mentioned in this work of fiction:
Asteroids:
Atari, Inc.
Formica:
The Formica Insulation Company
Irish Cream:
R & A Bailey & Co.
Jeep:
DaimlerChrysler Corporation
Kahlua
:
Jules Berman & Associates, Inc.
Levi’s:
Levi Strauss & Company
Southern Comfort:
Midland Distilleries, Incorporated
Space Invaders:
Taito America Corporation
Chapter One
Butterballs Shot
1 ½ shots butterscotch schnapps
½ shot coffee liqueur
Serve in a double shot glass. Can be mixed, but better if layered with schnapps first, then top with the coffee.
Vincent ran his hand through his brown hair and sighed. He had been sitting at his desk for two hours trying to balance the books, but no matter how many times he crunched the numbers, they kept coming up short. What he needed to save
Hot Shots
was nothing short of a damned miracle. Flexing his broad shoulders, Vincent decided he could use another cup of coffee.
Pushing open his office door, he entered his bar and glanced around. At 10:00 in the morning, the place was closed for business, but he still felt a rush a pride as he glanced around the establishment. He’d purchased
Hot Shots
in the historic
Soulard
area of St. Louis ten years ago in an act of desperation. Despite his high paying position as the head accountant at a large St. Louis-based company, the stress of corporate life had been slowly killing him. At the age of thirty-four, he had been diagnosed with high blood pressure and suffered an ulcer. Six months after the diagnosis, he’d quit his job and invested a good chunk of his savings in this bar. Up until recently, he’d been turning an easy profit, but since the recent recession, fewer and fewer patrons frequented the once popular night spot. At least his business was still open. Many area businesses had been forced to close their doors.
He poured himself another cup of strong coffee and
heard a knocking
on the front door.
Turning quickly around, he almost choked on the hot liquid. Standing just outside was perhaps the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. She was a petite little thing, couldn’t be more than five foot two, he estimated. Short, white-blonde hair framed her pixie face. He could easily tell that her small breasts rested free of undergarments beneath a light pink T-shirt. Grinning, he set down his coffee mug and walked to the door.
“Can I help you?” he asked.
“You need help?” she quickly countered.
For a moment, Vincent thought the girl was nuts. What was she talking about? Apparently, his thoughts must have shown on his face because she pointed to the sign in the window.
“A bartender?” she continued. “Your sign says you need a bartender.”
“Oh,” Vincent said, remembering he’d placed the Help Wanted sign only that morning. Last night, his bartender had casually announced she was pregnant and would no longer work in such a raunchy establishment as
Hot Shots
. So maybe the bar was a bit dusty and the furnishings old, but to call it raunchy was simply an insult. Vincent preferred to think of the stained wood floors, the names carved into the tables and the fading paint on the walls as character.
“Y-yeah,” he stammered, hoping desperately he didn’t sound as stupid as he felt. “I just put the sign out there. Won’t you come in?”
“Thanks. So, what do you need to know about me?” she asked.
What do you look like naked?
Vincent shook his head slightly, trying to rid himself of that rude, but legitimate, question.
“Why don’t you have a seat and we’ll chat. Would you like some coffee?” He indicated a tall table.
“Yes, please.
Black.”
Vincent nodded, walked behind the bar and poured a second mug full of the steaming liquid.
“You sure?
I make it pretty strong,” he warned.
She turned deep green eyes to him and, without blinking, said, “I like it strong.”
Vincent damn
near swallowed his own tongue.
Okay, don’t blow this,
he thought. Y
ou need a bartender, not a quick roll in the hay. Think with the big head on top.
Forcing himself to look at her eyes, not her boobs, he handed her the steaming mug and leaned his elbows on the bar.
“Let’s start with the basics. I’m Vincent Milo, owner of Hot Shots,” he began, and he held out his hand.
“Josephine Dunes,” she answered, grasping it firmly.
Wow! She has soft hands. Bet they’d feel great on my… Stop it!
Dropping his hand quickly, he reached for his mug to steady himself.
“So, what experience do you have?” he began again, trying not to stare as her pink little tongue darted out to lick a drop of coffee.
“My parents owned a bar up in Springfield,” she started.
“
“
“So that puts you at twenty-seven years old?”
Josephine grinned. “So you’re a math genius, huh?”
Vincent felt himself blush.
Suddenly, the grin vanished from her face.
“Oh, sorry.
There I go with my smart mouth, and I’m not even hired, yet.”
“No problem,” Vincent assured her. “I like a smart mouth, as long as it’s attached to a smart brain. So, you’re experienced. Let me give you the lay of the land here. First, the bar could be doing better. With the economy like it is, people just aren’t coming out like they used to. I need a bartender with enough personality and experience to help keep this place going.”
“So you’re looking for a bartender to save the place?” she asked sceptically.
Vincent shook his head.
“No, not at all.
I’m not doing that badly, but my last bartender quit due to a pregnancy. The one before that was a large, smelly guy whom many of the female patrons found objectionable, and the one before that was a hot little redhead who ran off with her best friend’s husband.”
“Ouch!”
“Yeah.
I’m looking for someone who is reliable but whom I can also bounce ideas off of. I’m open to new ideas, as well,” he added.
“Well, I also have a degree in Marketing, so I might be an advantage there,” she said.
“I
gotta
say, I don’t usually make rash decisions, but I think you’re hired.” He smiled.
Josephine nodded but didn’t answer immediately. “When do I start?”
“Tonight?
It could be a trial run for us both,” Vincent offered. “If it works out, we can discuss and agree on the particulars after the shift.”
Josephine stood and held out her hand.
“Deal.”
Vincent again shook it and grinned.
“Just one more question?” she asked.
“Shoot.”
“Do you know of any decent but cheap hotels around?”
Suddenly, he noticed the ragged backpack and large purse she carried. “You’re not from around here?” he deduced.
“No.” She gave him that lopsided grin again. “I’m from Springfield, remember? I just got into town last night.”
Vincent frowned. “You came to a new town without a job or a place to stay?”
“Listen,
Dad
, I’m a big girl, now. I can take care of myself,” she answered tartly.
“Sorry, but isn’t that a little risky?”
Josephine sighed. “No, I’m sorry. I snapped at you, and that was inappropriate,” she admitted.
“As to risky, yeah, probably.
But I needed to get out of town, and I do have some friends here in St. Louis. I would just rather not take advantage of their hospitality if I don’t have to. My one friend, Renee, has a room I can use, but she’s recovering from a nasty stomach virus, so I’d just as soon stay away for a bit longer.”
Vincent ran his hands through his hair and considered her situation. “I know of a few places to stay, but if you want, there’s a small apartment upstairs. You can crash there for a few nights.”
Rather than answer, she just raised one eyebrow.
“Seriously,” he said, crossing his heart with an index finger. “I’m not a pervert or anything. I live a few blocks away, so it’s not like I’d be staying.”
Still, she said nothing.
Vincent sighed. “Take it or leave it. It can be on a trial basis, as well. Truthfully, it’s really small and probably dirty.
Hasn’t been used in several months.
Still, I wouldn’t mind someone living up there and keeping on eye on the place for me, and it would be convenient for you.”
Vincent waited, watching a variety of expressions pass over her delicate features.
Finally, she nodded, “Okay. I’ll take it, but this is just a trial. And I have to warn you, I have an older brother who taught me just where and how hard to kick a man so he won’t get back up again. Understand?”
Paling slightly, Vincent nodded.
“Understood.
Come on, I’ll show you the room.”