Bebe was a pistol. She stood short, like Lexi, about five-three, and like Lexi, she was trim and shapely. She had very dark hair that fell to her shoulders, darkish skin and thick lips she painted deep red most of the time. Sometimes she painted them purple or even black when her fingernails were painted those colors.

Since she was away from the bar she wasted no time in stepping up to the counter and letting Bill know she was there. She called her order to him, a Super, medium-rare with a baked and veggies. She finished the order asking Bill if he wanted a beer, to which Bill said yes. She told him she’d send it in.

Bill did not look up to see how she was dressed or even to acknowledge her except when she said hello and called her order. He was draining that fryer and was in the middle of the flow of liquid grease. No way he could or would stop, and Bebe knew this, so it wasn’t a thing at all. If anyone understood how things worked, it was her since she was almost always alone behind the bar and sometimes similarly engaged in doing something that could not be stopped.

When Lexi came in with the beer, she came around the counter and onto the line. Bill saw her and motioned for her to keep her distance. She knew this was about not getting burned, so she put the beer on the reach-in counter before the Garland.

“We’re still on for tonight, right?”

“You bet,” said Bill.

“We can go over to my place. I live close by and it’s only me and my pussy. Cat that is, my lovely kitty just waiting for us to play with her.”

“Got it. I just love to pet and kiss kitties.”

“So I hear.”

Bill was just about done draining that first big boy and took a moment to look up at her. “Come back in about five minutes for Bebe’s dinner.

“See you in a few.” Lexi backed off the line and went on out to the dining room. She was alone on the floor now, Victoria and Norma having left.

“Give me a piece of blueberry pie,” Bill called to Marie. The fryer empty, he stood up and went over to put Bebe’s steak on the grill. He watched it slide in on the clean grills and stood there taking a sip of his beer. He could see Jim eyeing him and this was getting uncomfortable. Jim’s preoccupation with the beer seemed to be growing. It wouldn’t have meant anything much ordinarily, but Jim kept on with the think-you’re-something chatter and that signaled something maybe more than just wanting a beer. He turned the steak to diamond-mark it, watched it a moment, then flipped it. While it finished on the second side, he plated a baked potato, split it with a boning knife, plated some veggies and put butter on both. By the time this was done, he retrieved the steak and plated it, fat-side facing in to the side dishes so Bebe could eat the meat without having to turn the steak.

Marie came over with the pie. She put it down on the steam table counter so it would not be under the warmer lights then she stepped close to Bill as he slid Bebe’s plate up on the counter under the heat lamps. Given that his hands were busy, she helped herself to a generous feel of him. He didn’t flinch and pressed himself against her hand so she could get more feel.

“Happy now?”

“I want to kiss you.”

“Why?”

“Because I can. Because I want to. Because you’re there and I’m here.”

The plate up under the warmer lights, his hands free, Bill reached up under Marie’s dress. Marie pressed in against him the same way he’d leaned in against her.

“Mmm,” she said.

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