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Me a naked bartender girl risque9/25/2023 ![]() ![]() Kim and I tread water by the side of the boat, clothed by the dark water. I slipped out of my summer dress and into the water. And if circling Mike like a moon had not yet convinced him of my adoration, maybe nudity would. I had never been a skinny-dipping-in-the-middle-of-the-house-lined-river-at-2am type before, but then again, I hadn’t been in the position. I took a moment to consider my level of intoxication and found it not lacking. “Come in!” Kim called motioning to me from the water. Years of practice had taught Mike never to paid attention to another guy’s girl, particularly when she was doing her damnedest to make you notice she was naked. Jack had already seen Kim in every possible state of undress. “I did,” mumbled Jack, lighting a cigarette. She took a step up on the side of the boat and gracefully dove into the water. Kim spun away from the group and took off her shirt. I didn’t know her that well, but at that moment I remembered being told she was a card-carrying nut-job. Ten minutes after positioning ourselves in the center of the river, Kim announced she was hot in a breathy, dramatic voice usually reserved for soap queens and porn stars. A mischievous grin crept across her face. I cut the engine and we bobbed in the dark water, conversations from the bar picking up where they left off beneath a bright summer moon. We pulled out of the slip and putt-putted out to the wide Severn River where a cross-eyed Lhasa Apso could man the helm and be in no danger of hitting anything. The last time I’d driven the damn thing the wind had pushed me into another boat’s propeller, rubbing off part of the “P” and leaving the logo on one side announcing the Parker had been demoted to “Farker.” I’d been stone sober then.Īrriving at the dock, we piled into the boat and, old salt that I was, I lowered the engine. I practiced the speech where I explained to my father why every boat near ours had a streak of paint the color of our little Parker on it, while the Parker itself had been stripped bare. Our weaving path altered to point in the general direction of the marina. “I guess…” said my darling Mike, pathologically unable to fully commit to anything. ![]() He had told me where the keys were and how to operate it, but I don’t think Dad had in mind me tooling around the Chesapeake Bay at 2AM with a boat full of drunks, no matter how crucial the move might be to my stalking operation. My father kept a 17 foot Parker, a center console Boston Whaler-type boat at a nearby marina. “Want to go out on my boat?” said a high, desperate voice I didn’t recognize. Jack, the man making one half of the other adorable couple, offhandedly mentioned something about boats. I wanted keep Mike near as long as possible. We proceeded in that aimless way people do right before someone says “Well, I guess I better get home.” I couldn’t let that happen. The four of us stepped outside into a wall of humidity, almost comforting after the dry chill of the air conditioning. Our budding romance was left on idle, meted out in stolen moments and wistful glances. ![]() I couldn’t even point out what an obvious ploy it was without sounding like a monster. Unfortunately, the girlfriend he’d broken up with months earlier was embroiled in a family health crisis, and had begged him to linger and help her cope. The faster the blue-eyed fool admitted it, the faster I could stop planning to “accidentally” show up wherever he roamed and get on with the business of taking his presence for granted for the rest of our lives. Basic math made me giddy.Įveryone in the bar could see what Mike had not yet grasped. The sticky Irish bar served as the epicenter of my stalking activities, and now I sat grinning and buzzed, perched at a table with Mike (A.K.A: my prey and future husband) and another couple. ![]() Outside the air hung heavy with summer heat, but inside the pub, the vodka and sodas flowed icy and endless. ![]()
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