"Liquor In The Front, Poker In The Rear"

[TellMeAStoryGuy]

This RP is on indefinite hold. Circumstances that led to its creation changed.

"Liquor In The Front, Poker In The Rear"


(OOC -- See the bottom about joining.)​

When Carson entered Tony's, the first snow flakes were just beginning to waft down from the skies surrounding the isolated, country bar. The weather report had been for light snow tonight, followed by a severe storm midday tomorrow. As he clocked in and began his shift, Carson couldn't have known the mayhem that the early falling of white would cause this evening ...

... the mayhem ... and the pleasure as well.



Carson could count on his regulars to fill a few of the bar stools, tables, and booths on a Friday night. It was the usual crowd: a few guys from the mill, the drinking half of the local Mens softball team, the girls from Maggie's Beauty and Such, some of the bowling league members, and of course the off-going bartender and business owner, Hank, and the waitress whose work shift overlapped both Hank and Carson's.

Aside from them, there were no new faces ... until God made his presence on this planet known.

Just after he'd started his own shift at 10pm, the local Sheriff's Deputy entered, ready to perform his scare 'em home before they're too drunk to drive routine. Gregory Griggs typically entered with chest puffed out and eyes hardened -- what Carson called the law man's wild west glare -- as he surveyed the crowd. Deep in his heart, the man was a teddy bear; but the County had been experiencing a high number of alcohol related incidents and accidents -- including a recent vehicular death -- so a walk through of the bars, taverns, and alcohol-serving restaurants had become a priority for the Department.

But today, instead of entering like a gun slinger expecting a fight, he entered all hunched over, covered in the thick white of the early snow. As he flicked the snow off his shoulders and shook his hat clear, trying to keep the big flakes from sneaking down between his shirts and making him miserable all night, Griggs looked up to Carson on the opposite side of the bar and said, "I hope you're ready to entertain."

Suddenly, the door behind him burst open and a parade of young people -- mostly women, and mostly babes, Carson thought as his eyes widened with surprise and joy -- began filling the entrance. They were all repeating the Deputy's actions, wiping away snow, shaking off jackets and hats, stomping their feet to rid them of the snow that wasn't supposed to arrive for another sixteen hours.

As he surveyed the tight jeans and cropped blouses and short skirts and high heels, Carson felt a bit of a twinge just south of his belt buckle and looked up to the bar's ceiling, whispering, "Thank you, God."

Then, with a waving gesture, he called out, "Take a seat, All. Hot coffee and cocoa ... drinks for the Drinking ... the kitchen's open for the hungry, too. It's all on it's way."

As the group hurried inside -- some straight to bar stools, others to the empty tables, and yet more straight to the back of the bar and its smallish restrooms -- Carson waved the Deputy over and asked in a hushed tone, "What did I do right to deserve this godsend ... and what the hell's with all the snow?"

"Storm struck early, my friend," the law man reported, pulling his radio, then his side arm, to wipe them down before diving into the cup of steaming coffee the bartender had waiting for him. "The highway's been closed to the south by the County and the north by the State. No one's going anywhere tonight."

Carson scanned the young group again, asking, "Who the hell are they?"

Griggs shrugged. "Some kind of tour group from the college in the Capital. They were supposed to get home tonight, but..." The Deputy repeated Carson's scan of the group, then looked back to the man behind the bar and said with authority, "You're going to have to put them up tonight."

Carson's eyes widened. "Put them up...? What the hell does put them up mean?"

"Hey, no one's going anywhere," the man said, finishing off the coffee and asking for a to-go cup of the liquid. He smiled broadly and indicated with a slightly parted thumb and index finger gesture that Carson should put a little something extra in the cup. When the bartender returned with the drink for the road, Griggs said, "See if some of the locals with four wheel drive can take a few of them home with them. I see you have the Brady's here tonight. They're good folk. And Max Johnson and his daughter ... they've got all that room since Joanie's brothers went off to Kabul."

"And what about the rest of them...? Carson asked, his tone somewhere between desperation and exhilaration. The 30-something, life long bachelor was tickled pink to see so many young, beautiful women in his establishment; yet at the same time, the idea of being surrounded by so much raw sex appeal scared the hell out of the man who'd been doin' without for nearly two years since his last girl friend dumped him. He knew he'd be spending the rest of night walking around with a banana sized stick of wood in his under shorts. "Can't you take them to the jail...?"

The Deputy laughed as he snatched up his to-go cup and turned to leave. He took another long look at the bountiful skin and shapely features moving about him, then turned back to Carson and said with a knowing smile, "If I took this back to the station with me, Missus Griggs would be on trial next week for murder ... my murder."

And with that, the man headed for the exit, giving an over the shoulder wave to Carson and saying his farewell's to those from the group who tossed out their thank yous. As he exited the bar, he laughed and called back, "Don't forget to check IDs, Carson!"

Suddenly, the juke box in the corner fired up with a fast paced, electronics filled song that Carson didn't even know was on it. A few of the bodies near it began writhing and turning about, and within seconds the mood of the crowd rose quickly. The Visitors were already beginning to mix with the Local Yokels, and the sound of the quarter slots ramming in an out at the pool and shuffle board tables told Carson that the party was just starting.

One of the few males of the group stepped up and jabbed a thumb at the sign over his shoulder, Liquor In The front, Poker In The Rear. He smiled broadly and asked, "Do y'all really play cards here ... or is that a play on words."

Before Carson could tell the man that the answer was both, a cute redhead hopped up onto a stool at the bar, leaning over to reveal her deep cleavage as she asked, "Are you really gonna check IDs...?"

Carson fought to keep his gaze on the woman's deep green eyes, rather than her impressive, fair skinned breasts as he answered nervously, "Well ... I guess ... since no one's driving anywhere ... I guess--"

"Kahlua, please," she said, knowing already that he was going to serve her regardless of her age. Her eyes dropped to his chest for a moment, then back up to him as she said with a sexy tone, "Cream, but no ice please. I like it thick and warm."

A chill ran up Carson's spine as he wondered whether the woman was hinting at what he hoped she was hinting at. He smiled and backed up, saying, "Coming up."

He turned and prepared her drink, checking out the crowd in the mirror, as well as the beauty sitting behind him, swaying in her seat to the music as she and the woman who joined her at the bar eyed him in the mirror, giggling closely.

As he finished the drink, he again looked skyward and whispered, "Thank you, God ... I think ... I hope!"

(OOC -- If you are interested in writing someone in this role play, please PM me. The plot is ... well, it isn't! This role play is about a bar full of people; who knows what the hell could happen, right?)

 

[MoxieLu]

Francesca Walden was wondering to herself how the worst weekend of her life could just keep getting worse. She just heard the Deputy say the words "stuck here for the night" What a lovely combination, drunk college girls and rural yokels. At least it will be an interesting anthropological experiment, she thought.
Could it get worse? First her boyfriend Chase went to Vegas with his buddies. Then her best friend Jill got whisked away by her rich love interest for a romantic weekend getaway. So a couple of her sorority sisters asked to go on a bus trip to a ski resort (a freakin BUS?!?!?!) She had nothing better to do.
Her Gucci and Prada (knockoffs) didn't fit in with the slutty attire of the rest of the girls here, so sue her for being fashionable, and she certainly didn't fit in with the locals, who were exquisitely attired by the Wal-Mart.
She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Not bad for a day on a bus, her long dark hair didn't look any the worse for wear, she did give off that classy look, even in this environment. She saw the redhead flashing her cleaveage, then looked down at her own nicely shaped b-cup breasts under her fashionable yet non-revealing sweater. Yeah, she has the advantage in boobs, but at least i'm not wearing last years shoes, honey. She already felt some stares from the farm boys at the other side of the bar. Ever seen a woman with a tan in the winter before? Or one under 125 pounds?
Francesca noticed the bartender heading towards her, cute in an older, rugged kind of way....he asked what she wanted and she showed her ID (21 years, 5 months, 8 days) "I'll have a cosmo, uh....wait...." She scanned the room.....lots of bud lights and shot glasses...probably never made a cosmo in his life. "you know what? I'll have a Jack Daniels, on the rocks, please" She and the bartender shared a smile.
When in Rome....do what the dumbfuck locals do....

 

[TellMeAStoryGuy]

The two brothers were sitting quietly at a corner table near an as-of-yet unused pool table, staring out at the unusual sight of actual, real people in Tony's. Oh sure, there were the locals; there were always the locals. But to see strangers, no less out of towners here was just too much to imagine. It was like going to the zoo to see the exotic animals. No, no! Not the zoo, the circus; these exotic animals were beginning to really put on a show.

Wes and Les Taylor -- Could mom have been less imaginative?, the brothers had often asked themselves -- watched in quiet interest, occasionally bumping a shoulder to the other sibling and nodding attention toward this woman or that guy with a comment or a chuckle.

Les, the younger of three Taylor brothers, had grown up with the nickname Least. He and Wes had lost their eldest bro' to the fighting in Afghanistan four year ago, but before that and to this day, each of the brothers had not only been older than he, but also more handsome, more muscular, more outgoing, more adventurous, more ... everything, including more popular.

Wes, like Glen had been, was also more of a drinker, which meant that most weekend nights, Les -- who truly loved his brother and cared for his safety -- was usually right here beside him at Tony's, relatively sober, waiting to drive the lady's man home is there was no lady planning on driving him to her home instead. And in this town, Les did the driving most of those nights. There simply weren't that many available female bodies from which the older sib' could chose from for a night's delight.

Les had never minded playing chauffeur to his brother. Wes had never been one of those mean brothers; he'd always looked after his four years younger sibling and, when he himself got lucky with a woman who had a friend, had always done his best to get the younger Taylor laid as well. Les might not always get the woman he wanted and in the way he wanted to get her ... but some times getting anything was better than not getting at all.

Now, of course, the two of them had the eyes filled with what Wes had called candy even before the last young body had entered the bar. Les was shocked at the women; there were so many of them, and they were all beautiful in their own way, from perfect faces to perfect bodies to both.

And while Wes' attention had gone primarily to the swimsuit model types, Les' had gone toward one single woman. She was dark haired and dressed a bit more casually and comfortably -- though still very attractively -- than most of the woman, whose clothes -- tight, short, low cut, etc. -- left little to the imagination. The woman didn't seem to be enjoying herself as much as some of the others; some had been visibly intoxicated and high spirited even before the tops began popping off beer bottles and the juke box fired up.

"What about her...?" Les asked, leaning in toward his also-intoxicated brother and drawing his attention to the woman. "She's pretty."

Wes laughed and elbowed his brother. In a loud raucous voice he chastised, "C'mon bro! Think higher up the mountain! Look at the babes in this place.

As Wes went on, pointing out women and commenting on their individual, physical attributes -- and at times what he could do with those body parts to fulfill his own pleasure -- Les kept his eyes on the brunette in the designer clothes he thought he recognized from the Entertainment Tonight type shows he occasionally watched with his ailing mother.

At one point, the woman turned and faced one of the big mirrors that the vendors had provided to advertise their products. The young woman eyed her reflection between the multitude of Budweiser and Miller Lite stickers and, it seemed to Les, seemed relatively happy with what she was seeing.

Les was. Happy with what he was seeing, that was. She had her back to the barely 21 year old, and the youngest Taylor was finding him shifting about in his seat trying to get comfortable with the Woody that staring at her tight ass was giving him.

As Les watched Carson approach and take the woman's order -- "Jack Daniels, on the rocks" -- he leaned in toward his brother again and announced, "I want that one."

Wes, who was trading gazes and wide smiles with a bosomy blond gently swaying her hips to the juke box, responded without shifting his eyes away from his chosen target, "Then go get her, bro. They're here for the taking."

"I can't just go get her, Wes," Les reacted, a touch of panic in his voice. "You have to help me."

Least didn't start these things off! His brother was the one who always got the ball a'rollin'; the five women he'd had some sort of sexual contact with in his life -- only two of whom he'd actually fucked -- had all come to him via his brother's initiative.

Wes stood and downed the rest of his beer before leaning over to eye first his brother, then the woman who was holding the younger brother's attention. "C'mon, you can do this, bro. Just walk up to her and say hi. She's all alone and probably doesn't want to be that way, so ... you're already on Step Two."

"I can't do this!" Les replied, practically beginning to shake. He pleaded, "Wes, c'mon ... help me out."

Wes looked at the woman, then back to his woman -- who was casually running the long finger nail of her index finger up and down the smooth skin between her massive breasts -- then said bluntly, "Fine!"

Patting his brother on the back roughly, Wes moved confidently across the bar to his brother's lust interest and arrived at the woman's side just as she caught sight of him and turned to face him. Wes wasted no time. Looking back toward Les -- who was now standing, waiting, as if he expected to be called over for introductions -- and ensuring the woman knew who the topic of conversation was, he told the beauty in a mix of truth and lies, "My brother over there ... he's a 21 year old virgin who thinks you are the most beautiful creature he ever laid eyes on ... and if, out of the goodness of your heart-- Wes' eyes dropped to look toward the woman's heart and hesitated a moment on the firm tits hiding it. He looked back up, a bit of a smirk upon his lips. --you were to go and ... be friendly ... with him, I would make sure that you had anything you needed tonight. Free drinks, Tony's best barbeque ... a room at the motel that's just out back, paid for by me of course."

He smiled a bit wider at that last suggestion, thinking to himself You me, the blond with the boobs ... oh, and sure, Les can come, too.

Wes was pretty good with sensing a woman's emotions, even when he had six beers in him, and he had a feeling that a very painful slap was on its way. He turned suddenly and headed away from the woman, straight to Blond Boobs, who immediately began wiggling with him to the new song on the Juke Box.

Back at their table, Les was ecstatic. He was certain that his brother had paved the way for him to meet and, hopefully, get to know the woman of his current dreams. He cleared his throat, straightened his old jean jacket, and headed confidently across the floor. He stopped close to the woman and, trying to ensure he was heard over the music, said as he stuck his hand out, "Hi! I'm Lester ... but they call me Les."

 

[MoxieLu]

"Hi! I'm Lester ... but they call me Les."
She looked at him and his outstreched hand with utter disdain. "Let me ask you, LES-TER, are you as big of a condescending, insulting douchebag as your brother?" She put her hands on her hips and looked up at him angrily.
The look of shock and surprise on his face was similar to that of receiving a punch in the mouth. He actually looked like he was going to cry. "um, uh, No Ma'am, I mean, um, I apologize if he offended you, he's probably already had too much to drink, he's a good guy....I asked him to talk to you because I'm shy."
She could tell from the look on his face that she just destroyed all the courage he mustered up to walk over to her. Francesca immediately felt regret.
He started to turn around and walk away. "WAIT.....come back. I'm sorry, that was very bitchy of me. I shouldn't judge you by your brothers comments. Let's start over, shall we?" She offered her hand to him, he shook it heartily and actually made eye contact for the first time. "Nice to meet you Lester, I'm Francesca." She still didn't offer a smile....
"wow, Francesca, that could be the most beautiful name I've ever heard."
Now she smiled "thank you Lester. Now, don't ever call me Ma'am again, ok? And, while we are on the subject, I don't like Frannie or Frankie either, if you call me any of those names, you are turning around and making that embarrasing walk back to your table."
"ok, but I just told you your name was so beautiful....why would I shorten it? Or call you a boy's name, you are as beautiful as your name, you are NO boy."
She smiled again "Lester, that might be the nicest thing anyone has said to me in some time....have a seat, please."
She looked him over as he sat down next to her. If this was an act, he should be in Hollywood. He was.....average looking, average build, shy, and unassertive. But he had the kindest, sweetest eyes. He looked at her like she was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. OK, she thought to herself, you've won another ten minutes. Lester.
She looked over to the dancefloor, Lester's brother was standing very close to the blonde, he had his hand on the small of her back, whispering something into her ear, and she was giggling hysterically. He certainly isn't unassertive, and good looking too...
She turned to Lester, put her hand on his forearm and said "so.....tell me about yourself, Lester...."