About Bar Back

by JJ Massa
9 pages / 2900 words
Available file types - html, lit, pdf, prc

Ever wondered what happens at a bar after closing time? Ever looked at a hot bartender and wished he was looking your way? When the bar back shows up late one night for work, the dominant bartender has a good snarl, and notices that the kid is a natural sub. Then the bartender finds out why the kid was late, and he knows he's got a hot little bottom he can't let get away. Will their steamy encounter lead to something more?

Sample

“Hey!”

There he is, the new guy. Little bastard’s late.

“’Bout time you got here.” I don’t bother to keep the growl out of my voice. The restaurant next door already closed and we’re starting to get busy. I damn sure need a bar back tonight.

“I’ll make up for it,” he calls on the way by, getting right down to work stocking the beer cooler. Can’t fault him for that.

Still...

“Fuckin’ A right you will!” On your knees if I have my way. He’s a cute little son of a bitch; I can find all kinds of uses for him.

The look he gives me falls somewhere between hopeful and hurt, and the gap is just too wide for me to try and bridge it right now.

“I’ll, um, just get these glasses caught up.” He’s not looking at me now, just working.

It makes me feel a little bad, like I’m being too hard on him. “We’ll talk in a little while.” I try to keep my voice soft, nicer. He shrugs, doesn’t look up.

After that, though, I’m too damned busy to do much more than pour drinks and bark out orders. The bar’s hopping, but I’m getting plenty of opportunity to notice that sweet little ass every time he bends into the beer cooler. And he’s doing a lot of it. Or bending over the glass-washing sink… and now, his hand is on my back, he’s trying to stretch up and get a glass overhead.

“Sorry…” he looks guilty, embarrassed, like he’s not supposed to touch me… or something.

I turn, facing him. “I’ve got it.” My thigh brushes his groin as I reach for the glass. Hmm, yeah, he’s hard. Hell, so am I.  “Here you go.” I’m smiling--of course I am.

“Thanks.” He slips away; fixing the drink that goes in that glass, not looking at me.

“So what made you late?” I ask. We’re having a lull now. Everybody’s drinking, talking; nobody needs anything.

“Domestic stuff.” He’s looking like he wants to say more.

I’ll help. “Girlfriend?” I reach past him for a bottle.

“Uh.” He’s uncomfortable. I can help there, too.

I plant a hand on his shoulder as I put the bottle back where it came from. “Boyfriend?” I keep my voice low, neutral.

He clears his throat, a slight flush on his cheeks, his neck. “Yeah, sorta,” he says.