Southern Comfort
By Badlybent
The construction site was hot and dusty so I stopped by the Brass Tap for a draft to wash away the grit and have a monster grease- burger with the accompanying truck load of fries to refuel.
The Tap is a honky-tonk or a roadhouse depending on what part of the south you’re in. It’s just far enough out of town to be out of site out of mind of the local Baptist Christian Ladies Association United Against Fun chapter, which means it’s a beer joint. No wine fancy or otherwise. Doesn’t even sell whisky.
The joint’s attractions are, cheap beer, cheap food, loud music and oh yes a cheap woman now and then. It’s a boots and jeans kind of place. Hiking boots, construction boots, cowboy boots and their female counterparts. A suit would be as out of place as a pole cat at a church picnic.
There’s a dance floor and damned good country rock on Friday and Saturday. A couple of pool tables fill the little back room and an ancient TV that still sort of shows color hangs over the bar and takes care of the sports crowd. A little something for everyone.
There might even be what you call your gentleman’s disagreement in the parking lot now and then but nobody ever get seriously hurt. Not a knife and gun club sort a place. It ain’t the Ritz or your family place but a safe place to take a date and get loose now and then.
If she’s a good old girl that is.
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Long days make for more work so the crowd arrives later in the summer and not a lot was happening. I kicked back, ordered a pitcher and sat at the bar shooting the shit with George and waited for the show to start. Friday nights at the Tap are always a show of some kind.
George is the owner
After a while the beer worked it’s usual magic and I headed off to leak my lizard and at the door I came up short. There was a chick standing at the sink fussing with her hair. Not that it need it, I thought. She had flowing red hair that draws attention to her like a porch light draws bugs on a hot southern night. Her name was Violet.
Violet is what you would call cute in a slutty sort of way. Not gorgeous but cute. You wouldn’t kick her out of bed or gnaw you’re arm off getting away the next morning by any means. She’s a little young but not jail bait. George runs a clean place. He doesn’t put up with that shit.
She wears short skirts and low cut tops.
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She’s not afraid to show some skin on a warn humid night.
Boobs could be bigger but she’s got nice legs and a great ass.
Violet’s always with some dude though. Usually one of the frat-rats that come over from the local college. The band wasn’t set up yet but I’d seen her dancing to the jukebox with some geek or other I’d never seen. Just another college looser to me.
“Uh…I gotta go. ” I said.
“Sorry, the other one was in use and I had to go really bad too. “ She said. ” Well…Come on in. Go ahead, I won’t look. ” She went back to primping in the streaked, dirty, mirror.
I hesitated a second but nature made the decision for me. I wasn’t about to piss my pants waiting on her to get out.
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Not being exactly your high class establishment, the one urinal is beside the sink and there isn’t once of those privacy things between the two.
I got my streaming going good, glanced over, and noticed that Violet was indeed standing there watching me piss.
“I cheated. ” she said, giggling, not the least bit embarrassed.
She didn’t look away and I’m not the kind that can stop in mid-piss so I just shook my head and continued to let fly. If she wanted a free show, what the hell. “Damn beer,” I said. “This is the only trouble with the stuff. ”
I made conversation like this was the most normal thing in.
