Holidays were just around the corner. The economy sucked and the holiday blues crept into the Cantina. It was Wednesday evening before Thanksgiving and the joint was dead.
“I swept the parking lot again,” Frankie said bundled up, which wasn’t customary for SoCaL. “There ain’t shit out there. I trimmed the bushes twice, I’m bored.”
“Did you polish the brass door handles?” Marko looked around the parking lot and found a back door that was marred and chipped. “You can paint that tomorrow. Take the rest of the day off.”
“I need the money,” Frankie said. “I’ll prep the door tonight and paint it tomorrow.”
“That’s cool,” Marko said and left Frankie to tinker with the back door.
Business was down, and the Holiday Blues were creeping in the door as the sunset over the harbor and gray rain clouds dispersed the colors the sun shared with the world. Suddenly Marko sensed a dismal east coast evening. A chill dampened the atmosphere and the lack of color suddenly removed the drive to accomplish anything. He wanted to escape the gray for at least the music and bouncing boobs inside the Cantina.
Only a couple of patrons bellied up to the bar. The Chinaman strolled into the dining area followed by his Mexican assistant and his wife carrying a massive platter of Happy Hour appetizers. He gleamed with creative pride until his eyes adjusted to the soft dining room/saloon light and the number of patrons became shamefully obvious. His smile drooped like the sails on a sloop when the wind dies.
Mandy and Sheila arranged a couple of tables to display the Chinaman’s wild array of chip, dips, nachos, tamales and salsa, along with a steaming plate of Chinese herb-stuffed dumplings and soy sauce. Nyla ran to the Chinaman’s massive side to consol him while his big-cheek expression faded.
“Fantastic,” Nyla said, “I’m hungry and I’m sure more longshoremen are on their way.” As she said it the sunlight through the large dining room windows was obscured by gray clouds and the temperature seemed to drop significantly in the bar. Marko headed instinctively toward the heater thermostat. He indicated for the Mexican helper to light a fire in the massive adobe and stone fireplace. The dining room was empty so Mandy turned the lights down to save electricity.
As the evening wore on BB King sang the blues from Nyla’s selection of CDs. Clay ordered another shot of tequila and a Corona, while Buster drank Cokes and whimpered about his bride, who’d abandoned him and their kids to shack up with a longshoreman. Marko considered shutting the Cantina down early when the rumble of a couple of bikes filled the bleak night air. It had started to rain and the tapping of rain against the shutters added to the biker blues inside.
The two riders pulled up beside Buster’s wet black Sportster with candy apple metallic flames. They dismounted quickly, locked up their bikes and scrambled into the massive oak doors, dripping cold rain on the hardwood deck.
Marko met them at the door. “Welcome! Let me have your wet stuff,” he said, “I’ll hang it by the fire.”
As the riders freed themselves of helmets and thick black leather Marko discovered that one rider was a woman, a tiny hot-looking brunette with blue eyes and a sizeable chest that she enjoyed displaying openly. She stripped to a tank top, Levis and chaps, a sizzling combination.
“Thank you so much,” she said handing Marko her heavy wet jacket. He immediately noticed her bright sparkling blue eyes dancing in her head and a smile made from the lips of an angel. It was quirky, naughty and so upbeat. Even the tank top was moist and her braless nipples press succulently against the thin fabric. She shook out her shoulder length hair, snapped a rubber band around her thick mane and strolled to the bar under admiring looks of the other patrons.
She glanced at the patrons, then Nyla and licked her lips seductively.
“It’s so nice and warm in here,” she said in a syrupy drawl. “You wouldn’t happen to have a bottle of American Honey back there, would you?” Her electric connection with Nyla’s eyes slipped along her neck and down to Nyla’s milky boobs.
“I’ll take a double shot of Wild Turkey, neat,” her boyfriend said handing Marko his jacket and chaps.
“My name is Dakota,” the new female customer said as Nyla poured her a tumbler of American Honey liquor over rocks. “And your name is?”
“Nyla,” she said. “Where are you and your husband headed?” She was fishing.
“He’s not my husband,” Dakota said quickly. “This is Rex, my riding partner. We’re headed back to Texas for the holiday.”
Nyla’s smile lit up like a Christmas tree as she sensed an alluring attraction in this girl’s haunting, teasing gaze. They chatted lightly about their bikes, the ride ahead, dodging nasty weather and getting home in time for Thanksgiving dinner.
Rex lacked Dakota’s upbeat demeanor and in the space of 90 minutes, he downed three Wild Turkey doubles and his demeanor turned sour. Clay recognized the evil side while Marko watched from afar. “This bitch is always looking for a good fuckin’ time,” Rex said and slammed his thick glass against a saloon table. “Make the next drink count!”
Dakota was short and as voluptuous as a Vargas painting. She slipped off the barstool and headed directly for Marko who wore all black workout gear and stood in a dark corner of the room. “Can’t we party?”
“Sure,” Marko said. “I’m not much of a drinker.”
“I meant the girls. Can I buy them a drink or two?” Dakota asked out of courtesy.
“Tonight?” Marko said. “Sure, tomorrow we’re closed and I’m thinking about shutting this place down early.”
“Terrific,” Dakota bubbled and returned to the bar. “I got security approval. I can buy everyone a round of American Honey.”
Sheila clinked her glass with Clay and they tasted the sweet Meade-style liquor for the first time. Meade was historically designed for sex, the basis of the term Honeymoon. Dakota downed a shot with Nyla.
“I’m going get out of the rest of these wet clothes,” she said.
She slipped off the barstool and danced to the music across the floor to the fireplace. She popped the rubber band out of her hair and shook it wildly in front of the popping fire. She kicked off her cowboy boots and unstrapped her chaps seductively as if a stripper warming up for a crowd. She hung her chaps near the fire and turned toward the bar.
“You don’t mind if I dry my Levis do you?” She unbuckled her belt and slithered out of her denims to reveal a delicate thong and a round bubble-butt ass that could stop a train.
Her smile indicated pure joy at their reaction. She gleamed ecstasy in every gesture. She danced back to the bar and ordered the girls another round. As Nyla poured her own shot, Dakota interrupted. “Don’t drink it just yet.”
“Excuse me,” she said and crawled up onto the bar lying back on the bar top. “How about a belly shot, Nyla?”
Nyla stepped up on a stool as her small bar crowd circled the sexy occasion. She leaned over Dakota and her milky boob almost fell out of her tempting top. She poured the thick substance delicately into her navel. Dakota looked into Nyla’s glistening green eyes, “That felt good.”
“I’m just getting started,” Nyla said and leaned over to slurp the drink from Dakota’s delicate navel. The party was started. For the first time Clay warmed up to Sheila and poor Buster made a move for Mandy. Lotsa groping going on, except for one patron.
“That’s enough of that lesbian shit,” Rex snapped jumping to his feet.
He grabbed Dakota’s arm and yanked her off the bar. Nyla snatched her baseball bat from its holstered position behind the bar and circled the end of her station. Buster jumped of his stool as Dakota bounced off a barstool and fell to the deck. Marko witnessed the outburst and knew instinctively that the wrong move could mean sexy mood destruction.
Buster came up on Rex and startled him. He dropped Dakota’s arm and reached for a 6-inch straight-blade bowie knife, in a fringed leather sheath on his hip. Buster hesitated and reached for his own knife, but Marko got to Rex first with a sharp jab to his jaw, just enough to knock him out. Marko caught him, but his gaze was fixed on how Dakota might respond. She could go off or be relieved of the intrusion and the party could ensue. The room froze.
“Are you okay,” Marko said. “I just stunned him. He’ll be fine.”
“He’s been following me for a month hoping to get lucky,” Dakota said getting to her feet. “You’re not going to throw us out, are you?”
Marko signaled to Buster, “Grab his feet.” They carried Rex to the back where they set him on the Chinaman’s cot to let him sleep it off. “I’ll keep an eye on him.”
“Sorry about that girls,” Dakota said and dusted herself off. “Let’s do it right this time.”
Nyla turned to the electrical control panel behind the counter and flicked the exterior lights off and the closed sign on. Then she turned the dial on the dining room lights off and the saloon lights down, but the over-the-bar lights were turned up slightly. She winked at Dakota as she crawled up onto the slick oak bar top once more. “Pour a few more shots of the honey,” she said and settled down on her back. “Hey, dismal Dan, you get the first one.”
Clay looked over his shoulder as if he didn’t know who she referred to. Dakota poured the shot deliciously into her dainty navel cavity and Clay leaned over her soft belly and slurped up the warming liquor.
“How about you,” Dakota said to Sheila who put a lip lock on Clay as if to taste the remnants of the young Texan.
“I like what I found here,” Sheila said and the two staggered off to a booth.
Dakota winked at Nyla. “I’m saving you for last.”
Mandy stepped forward and grabbed a shot glass of the amber liquid. She pushed the bar stools aside and shoved her torso as close to the bar’s edge as possible. She poured the shot glass in her mouth and sloshed it around like mouthwash, then lifted Dakota’s top to reveal the most succulent, massive, round tits from ol’ flat Texas. She leaned over the girls jiggling chest and dribbled the warm liquid on her nipples.
Nyla couldn’t stand it. She pulled her top down to reveal her massive milky canyon and took one nipple in her mouth as Mandy tried to surround her other boob with her slender hands while suckling on her quivering nipple. Dakota arched her back instinctively.
“Oh baby, this is heaven,” Dakota said reaching out on both sides to touch her partners’ tits.
Buster approached Mandy from the back watching each tender touch with delight. He caressed Mandy’s ass and Mandy lifted her head from the hardening nipple and Dakota’s deep sighs to put a hot lip lock on Buster. The poor bastard hadn’t been laid since his ol’ lady ran off, and Mandy’s response made his whole dismal holiday season.
Nyla tenderly held one of Dakota’s tits and kissed every silky inch to the soft base of her neck and Dakota turned to face her. Nyla drug her tits along Dakota’s upper arm as she leaned in to kiss Dakota full on the lips. Dakota fell into her embrace and twisted her torso slightly. Mandy let go and turned toward the short, shave-headed biker who held on for all he was worth.
Nyla kissed her for what seemed an hour and ran her hand down over those massive mounds of joy along her belly to her panties. Dakota eyes twinkled and her smile radiated pure joy. “There’s a special shot for you, baby,” Dakota said as if they were alone somewhere far far away. She arched her small back and helped Nyla pull her panties down to reveal and perfectly shaved throbbing mound. She spread here legs slightly and poured the shot over her lips.
The night was just beginning as Nyla leaned down, and extended her tongue for the first delightful swipe. She kissed her there and Dakota almost jumped. Nyla let her tongue slither up her body, over her tits once more to her constantly smiling lips and kissed her again. The girl was shaking with pleasure. “Let’s go upstairs, baby, where we can do this so right.”
Upstairs in Bandit’s office, candles were mysteriously lit around the apartment bed where they collapsed and left the world of it’s traffic, wars, greed and stinking economy. For a long night their tenderness transported them somewhere so natural and beautiful, so loving, caring and safe from outside distractions.
The next morning, they showered together, caressed some more and without words returned to the bar for a Bloody Marys and Chorizo and eggs prepared special by the Chinaman and his staff. They all knew the look of two infatuated kittens. Finally, without two words, as if to make the spell linger as long as possible, Nyla walked Dakota to her motorcycle. Rex was gone. The sun shinned on the harbor and the sky above radiated blue warmth. Dakota’s clothes were dry and warm. She suited up for the ride.
“Do you need anything,” Nyla said pulling Dakota close once more. Standing in her bare feet their eyes met in a deep sense of lingering ecstasy.
“No,” Dakota said. “I will never ever forget last night. Will I ever see you again?”
“You damn right,” Nyla said and patted her ass then kissed her deeply. “Make sure you call, when you get home. I want to know you’re safe.”
“I don’t want to go,” Dakota said as she released her clutch and rode attentively out of the parking lot.
Marko leaned against the adobe wall and watched as the smiling Texas hottie rode out of Los Angeles. It pulled at his heart slightly. He knew the connection, the touch, the fire and the disturbing sense of watching it slip away.
