The Cantina was hopping, the cash register vibrating to the changing coin. Burnouts marked the parking lot. Bandit recently installed a big screen to entertain the troops. It was Margaritaville just 150 miles north of the border. The jute box was jammin’ the Senoritas swayin’, the booze flowing and the scooters sliding up to the bar.
The weekends were jumpin’ and Nyla drove out to the harbor to back up Mandy during a Sunday jam. Bandit hired Joel Williams, a one-man band, to play on the patio in the afternoons. He was setting up speakers a customers located tables and marked their spots with leathers and purses. Joel was a young rider who enjoyed playing his mellow jazz and rock for the bros and broette’s jiggling around the sunlit patio on the main channel of the port while ships, loaded down with thousands of containers, meandered past at 5 knots and Cruise ships housing 3,000 tourists honked their massive horns and the parting tourists lined railings and waved at the land lubbers in the patio hoopin’ and hollering.
It was an up weekend. Rain had let up and everyone was sunning their pearly-whites in the warmth. Marko roamed the premises light-hearted with the knowledge of the sex maniac close at hand. Marge slipped in an out of his life like men at a whorehouse. When he saw her, they had sex, in the garage, in his apartment, on the bar late at night, and creeping into his bed on her way to the gym. It was fuckin’ perfect from several aspects. Marko didn’t cotton to lasting relationships, actually had little use for women and their trappings. He liked sex once in awhile and that was the extent of his involvement. He had other shit to do. But this woman was beginning to creep under his skin. Her touch lingered, her lips tasted right and her body fit like a glove, besides she didn’t hang around.
The redheaded bartenderess, Mandy, was rocking from one bottle to another crystal clear tumbler. She had no time to breathe while handling the polished bar on a sizzlin’ Sunday. She jammed from tap to iced beer mug. The Chinaman’s boys brought out chips and salsa and spread the cheer from one red checker table cloth to another. The Chinaman took particular care with his cilantro based salsa and his freshly fried chips. He made sure no one could stop at one wicker basket of chips. The salsa was lively and cool, the chips salty, thin, not filling, flavorful and warm.
Nyla bounced around the bar teaming-up with Mandy, but she was enjoying more than challenging her ability at pouring drinks with speed and accuracy. She relished being near to Mandy, brushing against her and peering down her frilly white top. In fact, Nyla enjoyed watching both redheads dance around the bar. Mandy had thick dark wavy auburn hair while Tina’s hair was brighter, orange, soft, straight and pulled into a ponytail. She wanted them both and her body was telling her that the horny light was shinning bright.
She started the morning with her hair pulled back and held in place with a plastic monster. She was beautiful and her blue eyes sparkled. She had small diminutive ears. Her lobes were barely big enough to be pierced, but she had a set of blue lapis earrings that enhanced the color of her eyes. The Cantina uniform was always Mexican, low cut and loose. She let her tits jiggle freely in her blouse as she entered the bar area and approached the redhead storming from station to station, “Need some help, baby,” she said and Mandy spun to see her smiling face.
“Sure boss,” Mandy said, “go for it. I can’t keep up.” She turned back to a customer, Micah, who stuck out his tattooed flamed arm holding a twenty.
“I’ll pick up this end of the bar,” Nyla said and wrapped her slender arm around Mandy’s waist and gave her a squeeze. As she released her tender grasp she let her hand slide down the small of Mandy’s back and over her supple ass. Mandy didn’t notice until her plump ass was being caressed, but she was moving fast. Nyla’s touch felt good, though.
Nyla moved to the other end of the oval bar, with the island in the center, and took orders. Clay was leaning on the bar, his usual dower self, knocking back shots of gold and smoking one cigarette after another. Tina brushed his arm to pick up a tray of freshly filled beverages. Clay didn’t notice, he was caught by the site of Nyla’s hand caressing the shapely curve of Mandy’s ass. It was the first time in months that for a split second he didn’t ponder how his life had turned to shit.
Two new shapely female customers pushed open the massive door as a dozen bikes screeched into the parking lot and the roar filled the cantina. It was a local club called the Orphan MC. The group strolled into the bar in unison. A prospect had arrived twenty minutes earlier and made absolutely sure a table in the patio was free. Marko was checking the parking lot when the group rolled in. He followed them inside and when he saw them head toward a table on the patio he grabbed Tina, “Take care of them, will ya,” Marko said and slipped his arm around her narrow waste in a purely friendly gesture.
“Sure Marko,” Tina said and motioned for one of the busboys to deliver chips, salsa and menus.
“I knew it!” came a shout from the door way as the massive oak and wrought iron door closed behind Marge. “You’re no fuckin’ good. Just like all the rest,” she shouted.
Marko turned as the bar quieted as if a big bastard farted in church. Voices dwindled and silenced as all eyes turned toward the raving woman at the door. Marko hardly recognized the voice. Marge was suddenly a changed woman from what he had encountered previously. Before it had been all softness and sensuality.
He was trained to deal with anything violent. Even the club guys, just reaching their table, stopped and turned. They didn’t sit down but stared through the French doors into the Cantina.
“You sonuvabitch,” Marge continued in a jealous harangue. “I should have never considered any relationship with you.”
Marko was stunned, but only momentarily. He didn’t utter a word but began to walk toward the fiery female conflagration at the door. As he closed on her tall form she began to swing at him wildly. Her punches had no direction but hammered at him haphazardly. He ducked her attack and put his shoulder into her pert navel forcing her backwards. He lifted her over his shoulder wrapping his arms securely around her tights-covered thighs.
“I knew you couldn’t keep your hands off other women!” she shouted pounding at his back with her fists and kicking with her feet. “I knew it! You’re nothing!”
Marko walked right out the door of the Cantina and passed the patio while she screamed and battered his back with her slender fists. The club members were still standing, watching. Inside the Cantina the crowd shook their heads and continued their conversations over frosty margaritas. Heads turned in the pation and Joel stopped setting up his instruments, as Marko continued to walk toward the edge of the harbor’s main channel.
Without a word he tossed the screeching woman into the briny bay 15 feet below the dock’s edge. She broke the chilling surface of 54 degree winter water with a belly-flop splash.
“Can you swim?” Marko shouted down to her when she surfaced.
“I competed in college!” she blurted astonished, sputtering and spitting in 20 feet of oily salt water.
Marko turned his back on the broad and walked back toward the snickers and applause from the brothers in the patio.
