fifteen
minutes, leaving just one other lad to serve the rest of the company and
tempers were starting to fray. One or two blokes attempted to steal pints from
the Xtremers ’ (as they insisted on
calling themselves) larder but a couple of them stayed back to protect it and
the whole thing threatened to kick off.
Incredibly, it didn’t occur to them, or more likely, they
just didn’t care that the reason the bar was so congested was because of their
hoarding and they would’ve continued all night had Norman not stepped in and
suggested they tried drinking what they had before ordering any more. The Xtremers naturally tugged their
forelocks the moment Norman took notice but were back boasting and toasting
their mischief with their trademark crossed forearm X salutes as soon as he was
gone.
They were wankers.
The extra barman told on the waiting time so I was able to
make it to the front, attract his attention, lean in some of the Xtremers ’ spilt beer and make it back
out again with four pints and two shorts in a little under ten minutes.
“I’ll tell you, if that’s what it takes to get a couple of
free pints, I’d rather pay for my bloody beer,” I concluded.
I took heart from the fact that the drinks I’d gathered
would probably see us through to the last stampede when the free bar closed.
And when that nightmare unfolded, it would be Tom’s turn again.
I sat back down and was just about to get tucked into the
fruits of my labours when a long pair of legs suddenly appeared next to me.
“Oh hi, you came. I’m so glad you did,” Elenor squeaked
excitedly.
I turned around, looked her up and down and practically
bristled all over when I saw how stunning she looked. She was always sexy, of
course, even around the office, but suddenly she’d polished up like half a
million quids’ worth of sex vouchers. I could scarcely think to speak. Her hair
had been piled up on top of her head in some kind of exquisite bun, leaving
just a couple of curls to keep her temples company. Her neck was bare and her
shoulders naked, a tiny strap kept her gold sequinned top from collapsing under
the weight of her enormous tits and she’d managed to find a tight lycra belt
that could double as a mini skirt. Her legs were a golden nylon sheen and tan
loops that peered from under the hem of her skirt told me she’d gone the
stockings and suspenders route rather than cluttering things up with tights.
All these garments and a scattering of silver were piled on top of a pair of
pointed stilettos that looked like they could’ve been used for keyhole surgery
and which added three inches to her height while taking away half a stone in
weight.
She was, for want of a better expression, a shag just
waiting to happen.
“Yes,” I finally replied, figuring I should say something
before I tossed my marriage certificate over my shoulder and leapt on top of
her.
She twisted her legs and chewed on her lip for a bit before
feeding me my line.
“So, do you want to get me a drink?”
“Yes, sure,” I said automatically before remembering what
that entailed. “Oh bollocks.”
Tom looked at me from the safety of his pint and told me to
get us both another couple of shorts in if I was going up and suddenly I was in
the thick of it again, fighting my way through bedlam while Elenor’s cheeks
warmed my seat.
“’scuse me. Sorry. Coming through. Sorry. Can I just...
sorry. Sorry!”
I spent the best part of fifteen minutes chanting things
like these and slicing my way through the tangled nest of bodies before I made
it back out to daylight with two gin & tonics and two more whisky singles.
“Wasn’t there any ice?” Tom asked when I handed him his.
“Oh piss off,” I snapped back.
“Cheers,” I told Elenor, tipping my glass against hers.
“Bottoms up,” she replied with a wink, causing me to shiver
right through to my vows as I pictured her bottom bent over my hotel bed.
My God, was this really happening? Surely not?
minutes, leaving just one other lad to serve the rest of the company and
tempers were starting to fray. One or two blokes attempted to steal pints from
the Xtremers ’ (as they insisted on
calling themselves) larder but a couple of them stayed back to protect it and
the whole thing threatened to kick off.
Incredibly, it didn’t occur to them, or more likely, they
just didn’t care that the reason the bar was so congested was because of their
hoarding and they would’ve continued all night had Norman not stepped in and
suggested they tried drinking what they had before ordering any more. The Xtremers naturally tugged their
forelocks the moment Norman took notice but were back boasting and toasting
their mischief with their trademark crossed forearm X salutes as soon as he was
gone.
They were wankers.
The extra barman told on the waiting time so I was able to
make it to the front, attract his attention, lean in some of the Xtremers ’ spilt beer and make it back
out again with four pints and two shorts in a little under ten minutes.
“I’ll tell you, if that’s what it takes to get a couple of
free pints, I’d rather pay for my bloody beer,” I concluded.
I took heart from the fact that the drinks I’d gathered
would probably see us through to the last stampede when the free bar closed.
And when that nightmare unfolded, it would be Tom’s turn again.
I sat back down and was just about to get tucked into the
fruits of my labours when a long pair of legs suddenly appeared next to me.
“Oh hi, you came. I’m so glad you did,” Elenor squeaked
excitedly.
I turned around, looked her up and down and practically
bristled all over when I saw how stunning she looked. She was always sexy, of
course, even around the office, but suddenly she’d polished up like half a
million quids’ worth of sex vouchers. I could scarcely think to speak. Her hair
had been piled up on top of her head in some kind of exquisite bun, leaving
just a couple of curls to keep her temples company. Her neck was bare and her
shoulders naked, a tiny strap kept her gold sequinned top from collapsing under
the weight of her enormous tits and she’d managed to find a tight lycra belt
that could double as a mini skirt. Her legs were a golden nylon sheen and tan
loops that peered from under the hem of her skirt told me she’d gone the
stockings and suspenders route rather than cluttering things up with tights.
All these garments and a scattering of silver were piled on top of a pair of
pointed stilettos that looked like they could’ve been used for keyhole surgery
and which added three inches to her height while taking away half a stone in
weight.
She was, for want of a better expression, a shag just
waiting to happen.
“Yes,” I finally replied, figuring I should say something
before I tossed my marriage certificate over my shoulder and leapt on top of
her.
She twisted her legs and chewed on her lip for a bit before
feeding me my line.
“So, do you want to get me a drink?”
“Yes, sure,” I said automatically before remembering what
that entailed. “Oh bollocks.”
Tom looked at me from the safety of his pint and told me to
get us both another couple of shorts in if I was going up and suddenly I was in
the thick of it again, fighting my way through bedlam while Elenor’s cheeks
warmed my seat.
“’scuse me. Sorry. Coming through. Sorry. Can I just...
sorry. Sorry!”
I spent the best part of fifteen minutes chanting things
like these and slicing my way through the tangled nest of bodies before I made
it back out to daylight with two gin & tonics and two more whisky singles.
“Wasn’t there any ice?” Tom asked when I handed him his.
“Oh piss off,” I snapped back.
“Cheers,” I told Elenor, tipping my glass against hers.
“Bottoms up,” she replied with a wink, causing me to shiver
right through to my vows as I pictured her bottom bent over my hotel bed.
My God, was this really happening? Surely not?
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