A dear friend told me this story over a great many drinks in a very friendly (although rather obscure) bar-cum-club a few years ago. I can testify that some small part of his story is true, from intimate personal experience.
Even so, it was a long and drunken evening, and I may not have remembered all the details correctly, although I did call my friend up with a few questions. Any remaining errors are of course entirely my own.
It all started in a downtown cocktail bar after work. It was a Thursday night, a few drinks supposedly on the way home from the office. It was approaching the silly season in the middle of the summer when little seemed to happen in our offices - or in the rest of the country, if the reports in the newspapers are to be believed.
I had casually invited Abigail for a drink after work. I knew of a fun and funky little cocktail bar not five minutes walk away, called Sandy's Bar. It did great cocktails at reasonable prices, and was one of those places that is easy to find only after you've been guided there a couple of times. I thought it would be a good place for a casual first date: not so noisy that witty banter is impossible, but not overly and worryingly intimate, either.
Abigail and I had been eyeing up each other over the workstation screens for weeks now. She was a tall slender girl with a cute smile and flashing green eyes, long straight dark hair and creamy pale skin. In the office, she wore dark skirts short enough to show off her elegant legs - although not so short as to be unprofessionally tarty, of course - and a matching business jacket. She had breasts that looked - as far as I could tell under the formal blouse - as if would not always need a brassiere for support.
I was confident that Abigail would react positively to my invitation and I had already mentioned the attractions of Sandy's Bar in one of our frequent coffee-machine chats. To my delight she accepted immediately, her eyes lighting up with anticipation, then her face fell slightly.
"Oh, I'm sorry," She said, "I promised to take my friend Gemma for a drink this evening. She needs cheering up."
"Well," I said, carefully disguising my disappointment, "Why not invite your friend along as well?"
Perhaps I had hoped for a little one-on-one time with Abigail, but no matter. If we hit it off, then she might persuade her friend to depart later on. And maybe her friend was cute too.
Alex, the head bartender and - I knew - part-owner of Sandy's Bar, waved as I entered with Abigail on one side and Gemma on the other. The place was still quiet, filling up slowly with those who had escaped from work early. We headed for my favorite booth, a semicircle of padded seating around a circular table, close to the bar itself and conveniently placed so that the girls could be amused by Alex's cocktail-making show.
A short conversation - which I could not overhear - on Abigail's mobile phone had got Gemma to meet us on the steps at the office entrance. Gemma was petite, at least in comparison with Abigail's Amazonian form, with blonde hair that fell to her shoulder-blades. She also wore the near-uniform two-piece business suit, although hers was in a shade of pale grey. Gemma wore much higher heels than Abigail, as petite women often do in a business environment, which showed off her curvaceous ass to great advantage as she moved.
We sat in the booth, Gemma and Abigail entering at one side and sitting together, while I slid in from the other side. I slipped out of my jacket and tossed it casually on the divider. Taking their cue, the ladies divested of their jackets too, Gemma exposing a thin blouse in pale pink silk which was barely buttoned over what I could now see were a truely stupendous pair of tits.
As for me, well, I'm a big guy. One of the reasons I wear rather old-fashioned dark suits, white shirts and conservative ties - at work, at least - is that it makes me look a little less physically intimidating. I'm nearly two meters tall and keep my weight around 105 kilos. To be honest, I need a lot of gym work to keep me in good shape. It would be all too easy to sit around and watch TV sports and drink beer and grow the kind of belly which makes men look as if they are pregnant. That's not my style - I prefer to look after myself. I work out three times a week, wax in a number of places on a regular basis and keep my head-to-toe surfer's tan topped up with regular sunbathing on my private balcony.
We studied the cocktail list, which was filled with drinks whose names were more often than not double entendres. Alex himself came over to take our orders, his trademark black shirt and black waiters’ apron monogrammed with the crest of a famous Champagne brand.
"What'll it be, ladies?" I asked, nodding politely at Alex.
"I'll have a Porn Star Martini," she said, glancing naughtily at me.
I smiled wryly in response. It was a good start to the evening, with its soft fruit center and shot of Champagne served on the side.
The other girl was still studying the menu, so I ordered for myself: Long Island Iced Tea.
Gemma looked up, also grinning widely.
"Sex on the Beach," she said.
The girls watched Alex at work, applauding as he pulled off one stunt after another. It was quite a show, with the barman skillfully juggling the bottles and deftly tossing the shakers from one hand to the other, slicing or mashing the fresh fruit and arranging the resulting concoctions neatly in glasses of diverse shapes.
I had seen Alex at work before, so I took the opportunity to look around at the other customers. As I watched, a slender Asian woman entered the bar. She had long black hair and heavily kohl’d eyes, and she was wearing a diamond-studded leather choker, a low-cut strappy top of red silk which emphasized her breasts, and a tight-fitting miniskirt. She wore high black stilettos and black stockings which were not quite fish-nets, but which quite definitely enhanced the appearance of her slim legs and tight ass. The whole outfit was entirely at odds with the dull business wear of the other inhabitants.
Gemma caught the direction of my glance, then waved and called out at the Asian woman. "Leena! Over here!"
She turned frowning, then smiled widely at Gemma making energetic 'come over here' gestures. She walked over, looking over Gemma's companions discreetly.
"How are you, Darling?" Gemma cried, "Do join us for a chat."
Leena nodded, and the girls scooted further around the booth to make a space for her. This left me right at one end, with Abigail’s ass now pressed close against my thigh.
Alex approached with the drinks we had ordered earlier. He spread them neatly over the table, adding a complementary bowl of savory snacks. Leena declined the offer of a drinks menu.
"I'll have a Long Sloe Comfortable Screw," she said, a secret smile playing over her lips.