Copyright (C) 2004 by Felix Lance Falkon; you may save or make paper copies for your own use; do not post, repost, publish, or archive elsewhere without the author's express permission.
"Why do I need something to make customers tell me their troubles?" Mickey asked. "They do that anyway -- that's what I'm here for. Otherwise all the owner would need is one of those new- fangled dispensing machines and a couple of bimbos to hand out the drinks and take in the cash."
"Ah, but one sniff of this, and they'll tell you the absolute truth." The all-too-ordinary-looking man pushed the flower that looked like a rose but wasn't, and the vase that held it, back towards Mickey. "Just try it. If you don't like it, you can always . . ." The man stopped as Mickey scowled.
Mickey said, "No obligation? It'll be on consignment -- if I don't like it, I owe nothing. Okay?"
"This is between businessmen -- surely you can trust Me."
Mickey choked down a laugh. Instead, he said, "The terms: say them."
"Oh, all right. No obligation. It's on consignment. If you don't like it, you owe Me nothing." The all-too-ordinary-looking man took a deep breath. "Is that satisfactory?"
"It is now."
The man nodded, turned, and limped toward the door.
Two young toughs, just coming into the room, gave the man plenty of clearance, them strolled just a bit too casually up to the bar.
"Who was that?" asked one of the toughs. "There is something about that dude . . ."
"You really don't want to know," said Mickey. "What can I get for you lads?"
The second tough asked, "How come we never noticed this place before? We drove by just a couple nights ago, and . . ."
"We weren't here a couple of nights ago," said Mickey.
"You built this place that fast?" The first tough glanced around the room. "This place sure doesn't look new."
"It isn't," said Mickey. "We don't stay in one place for long." He turned away, grabbed a couple of bottles, opend them, grabbed a couple of glasses, turned back, and slid bottles and glasses to the toughs. "This round's on the house. And . . ." He pushed the vase with the flower forward. "Smell this. It's -- it's some kind of scented blossom."
One of the toughs sniffed, then the other did. The first said, "Doesn't smell like any rose I ever sniffed at." He looked puzzled, then said, "I'm Rocko. M' pal's named Tony. T' tell the fuckin' truth, we came in t' clean your cash register the fuck out, but --" He glanced around the barroom, still almost empty.
"It's early," said Mickey. "There's hardly anything in the till yet. But if you come back closer to closing time -- or you can just go sit in that booth --" He pointed. "-- the one at the end, with the `reserved' sign. Nobody'll bother you there. I'll even send Dolly over with a refill later on."
They picked up their bottles and glasses, and went.
----------
A few minutes later, Mickey saw a good-looking pair of normals enter the barroom. They looked around hesitantly, then marched up to the bar.
"Sir and mistress, what can I get you?"
"Just -- do you have any ginger beer?" asked the male half of the pair.
"This is a bar; we have everything." Mickey poured two ginger beers. The pair sipped, put their glasses down, and glanced at each other.
"Uh -- I'm Biff, and this is my sister, Gloria." Biff pulled out a twenty, laid it on the bar. The thing is, we're looking for some --"
"Oh, look," said Gloria, picking up the vase with the blossom. "It's almost a rose, but it isn't. And the aroma --" She sniffed, offered the flower to Biff, who sniffed it too.
"You were saying?" asked Mickey.
"Well, we're looking for --" He turned to Gloria.
"We should have come in separately," she said.
"You're looking for someone to spend the evening with," suggested Mickey. "Two someones?"
"Exactly," said Biff. "Only -- only I'm gay and she isn't, so . . ."
"No problem, no problem at all." He trotted to the end of the bar and told Henretta, one of the bar's two waitresses, "Go get Andy and Alice -- they're around here somewhere. And a moment later, he saw those two -- a handsome young man, an equally handsome woman -- approach.
"But --" Biff said. "I meant . . ."
"No problem at all," said Mickey. "Andy, I'd like you to meet Gloria. And Al -- yes, you can be Al now -- I'd like you to meet Biff. They're looking for -- well, you four can work that out for yourselves." And by the time the handsome young woman named Alice reached Biff, she had become Al, a young man just as handsome as Andy.
"Wow!" said Biff. "Did I just see what I thought I saw?"
Al grinned; Gloria and Andy, already arm in arm, laughed. Mickey explained: "They're succubi. Or incubi, depending. If you wanted to end it all . . ."
He paused; Biff and Gloria shook their heads firmly.
". . . they could take you all the way. As it is -- well, it'll be a very pleasant evening, even though you'll feel pretty tired and hungry when the night's over. You might want to use one of our private booths -- right over there." He pointed.
Biff turned to Al and asked, "Can I get you anything before we -- go?"
"Just your sexy selves," said Al. "You'll like the way their private rooms are . . ." His voice faded as he led the other three away from the bar.
"That worked out nicely," said Henretta.
"Maybe a touch quicker than it would have anyway," said Mickey.
"I don't remember seeing that before," she said, reaching for the fragrant blossom's vase.
"Don't," said Mickey, "unless you want to tell me more about yourself than either of us would be comfortable with."
"Oh, you'd be surprised." She batted her eyes at him, but pulled her hand back from the vase.
"Is that what that thing does?" asked a short, powerfully built, broad-shouldered man of around thirty, stepping from behind Henretta to the bar.
"I didn't see you come in. I'm Mike."
"Steve." They shook hands. "Competition body-builder --"
"I can see that," said Mike.
"You may have heard my name?"
"Nope. Sorry. Is that --?"
"-- what my problem is? Pretty much. Bartenders are supposed to solve problems --"
"Or at least listen to them," said Mike. "Take a sniff?" He offered the fragrant blossom.
Steve shook his head. "Don't need it. Look." He ripped off his shirt, baring a spendidly muscled chest and arms; tore off his trousers and briefs, revealing thick, bulging thighs and calves, and a lusty, fast-hardening sexual shaft. He slapped his lean, hard stomach. "But I'm just five feet four, and all the contests are bein' won by six-footers. And what's worse, one of the judges at the Mister A contest last month told me they were downgradin' me for being overdeveloped. Me, overdeveloped? Most of the things guys have been takin' make their guts grow -- look at me -- I'm still just 27 inches around the waist. As for my cock, it's a full eleven inches when it's up hard, like now -- see?"
"And your problem is?" Mickey asked. "With a body like that . . ."
"With a body like this, I'm stuck in a dead end. There's no money in bein' third or forth in the bid contests, and I've spent too much time in the gym, buildin' myself up, to start all over doing somethin' else -- you asked the two that were just ahead of me about `goin' all the way,' didn't you? Well . . ."
" `All the way' -- as in --"
"Endin' it all. Yeah. Got anything inter'stin' on tap?"
"As a matter of fact, I do. Al and Andy are booked for the evening, but --"
"I'm on my way," said Henretta.
"Amd while she's getting them -- take a sniff of this and see if you want to add anything."
"Well, okay." Steve picked up the blossom by its vase, inhaled, then put it down. "Makes me want to tell you what I ust did all over again, but there isn't much point in that, is there?"
"Nope. Just checking. Here's Henretta with the solution to your problem -- several solutions, in fact," Mike said as a couple and five children of assorted sizes followed Henretta to the bar. "Steve, these are -- this is the Bolang family -- Miz Bolang, Mr. Bolang, this is Steve."
"Pleased to meet you, I'm sure," said Miz Bolang, patting Steve on the shoulders. "All nice, lean meat, too."
"And you are -- werewolves?" Steve asked, as the Bolangs, children and all, began to strip their increasingly hairy bodies.
"Were-hyenas," said Mr. Bolang. "We'll grind up your bones as well, so that nothing at all will go to waste."
"But Daddy," said the largest of the children, "in school, they were telling us about the growth hormones and how they are bad for you if your feed has any in it. And the way he looks --"
Mr. Bolang held up a forepaw. "You have been taking something?"
"Not for a couple of months," said Steve, "and what I was taking clears out of the system in just a few days."
"There's no way I'm going to take any chances with my children's health," she said, picking up her skirt and beginning to change back into a human woman.
"Aw, Mom," whined the four smallest Bolang children.
"How about having Vlad check him out?" asked Henretta.
"I didn't realize he was here," said Mickey. "Go get him."
But Henretta was already scampering away. A moment later, she led a tall, black-haired man in a long, black cloak to the bar.
"Vlad, we'd like for you to check someone out. This is Steve --" The two shook hands. "-- and Steve, Vlad. He'll taste a little of your blood. and --"
"A little?" Vlad asked. "A big, lusty stud like this can only spare a little blood?"
"Now, now, you have to leave some for the Bolangs -- they like their meat juicy, and of course, they're teaching their children how to eat their prey alive."
"If I can horn in for a moment," said Steve, "Vlad, how are you going to draw my blood? Do you bite me in the neck?"
"Certainly not -- what fun would that be?" The vampire stroked Steve's still-rigid prong. "Just a few little nips and a bit of heavy sucking, and I'll have enough of your blood to analyse for Miz Bolang as I digest it."
"Well, in that case, I think you should take a whole quart."
"My boy, you are too generous -- but I accept your offer. Now, to avoid embarrassing you by my being clothed while you are so deliciously naked . . ." As Mike watched, Vlad's clothing, cloak and all, faded into mist, revealing the vampire's sharply defined muscles and his own stiffening prong.
"Would you mind moving off to the side?" asked Mickey. "In fact, how about over there, on the part of the floor that's tiled? I know you're all careful eaters, but if any blood gets spilled -- there, that's just right. He watched Steve lie down, saw the naked vampire stretch himself out on Steve's muscular legs, saw Vlad take Steve's prize prong in his mouth and start sucking the young Hercules' blood.
Steve looked up, grinned at Mickey -- looking happy at last -- then turned his attention back to feeding Vlad.
----------
By then, a half-dozen customers, human and otherwise, were waiting at the bar. Mickey served them quickly, then asked Dolly, the other waitress, "How are our customers doing in the `reserved' booth?"
Dolly beckoned wordlessly; Mickey followed her to the booth and opened the curtains.
Rocko and Tony had both stripped; their cloths lay on the floor of the booth, being digested by the mint-green jelly who had reserved the booth. Their feet were being eaten too, and the jelly was slowly working its way up their well-muscled calves, while they pumped their rigid shafts.
"How's th' fuck ya doin'?" asked Rocko, still pumping.
"Business picking up a bit. How about you two?"
"It's kinda weird, but gettin' the fuck eaten alive like this is kind of a turn on," said Tony. "The the jelly here tole us it'll be even better when it gets to our fuckin' balls and starts eatin' them."
The mint-green jelly formed a couple of eyes and a mouth, winked at the bar-tender, and said, "My thanks for a delightful supper, Mickey. There was a bit of a misunderstanding at first, but they settled right down when I ate through their boots and started on them, and now they've been entertaining me with tales of some of their recent amatory conquests while I dine upon their well-muscled selves."
"Yeah? Last place we was in stir had real fuckin' some neat weight-liftin' stuff, and there wasn't much els t' do, so we bulked up a bit." said Rocko. "All good, solid muscle, too," he added, patting his broad chest. Anyway, I telling the jelly 'bout th' time Tony an' me was rapin' this dude, with both our cocks crammed into his ass at the same time, and he said . . ."
Mickey listened for a few minutes, then quietly let the curtain swing back into place and withdrew.
----------
Only two customers at the bar this time, both ghostly wraiths. Mickey picked up the spray bottle of gin, sent a mist of gin at each, then watched them drift away. Henretta helped watch them go, then said, "I think it's time for another round of ginger beer for the foursome in one of the private booths, but since Andy and Al are both male at the moment and Biff already is --"
"Good of you to think of that," said Mickey. "Hold down the bar -- I'll go." He loaded a tray, stepped around the end of the bar, and strode toward the booths. He tapped quietly on the side of the booth and asked "Ready for refills?"
"Come in, come in," Biff called from inside the booth.
Inside, Mickey found all four naked, and their clothing hung neatly on the coat-hooks. Biff, mounted on -- and in -- Al, looked up. Without missing a stroke, he said, "You're just in time; we were starting to get thirsty."
Gloria, sitting astride Andy's naked body and impaled on his shaft, continued her own rhythm as she wordlessly reached for a glass, then held it steady as Mickey poured it half full. He put the tray on a handy shelf.
Biff said -- as he kept on fucking -- "I can't quite manage a glass in this position, but --"
Mickey handed Biff an open bottle. Biff gulped down half, then finished the rest more slowly.
"Ahh," sighed Biff, his well-muscle body thrusting into Andy as they fucked, "I needed that." He grinned at Mickey again. "I shoot a load into Andy here, but instead of running dry, I just keep on going, and them I'm pumped another load into him -- and then another." He sighed. "It's a temptation to keep on going, but --" He glanced at his watch. "-- we just have time for a quickie before supper at the Meltons'."
Gloria nodded. "But maybe tomorrow . . ."
Mickey let the curtain fall and strolled back to the bar.
----------
Steve, the body-builder, lay on the tiled section of the floor, shoulders propped up by his elbows. His eleven-inch shaft still stood erect, but his legs -- bones and all -- had evidently just been eaten by the Bolangs -- now a pack of hyenas of various sizes. Steve was saying, "Now, there are four of you pups, so two of you hafta share my prong. The other two can eat one ball apiece. So -- who's the oldest?"
One of the pups stepped forward and raised a paw.
"Okay -- you can have the outer half, along with the tip -- that's it -- just bite it off -- there. Now the second oldest?"
Mickey watched the next hyena pup chew off the rest of Steve's shaft, right down to the base.
"And the next?"
"They're twins," Miz Bolang explained.
"That works out fine -- my balls are pretty much a matched pair, so . . ."
Mickey caught Steve's eye and winked. Steve winked back, then turned his attention back to being eaten alive, while Mickey returned to his station behind the bar.
----------
The rest of the evening was quiet. The sounds of the Bolangs crunching up Steve's bones ended. A quick trip to the `reserved' booth showed it untenanted except for a somewhat larger puddle of mint-green jelly.
Another normal showed up around eleven -- a victim of unrequited love, the young man wailed. Mickey gave him a wine cooler, which the victim drank in three swallows. Mickey described, then pointed out a giant pitcher plant in the far corner. Still sniffling, the victim stripped, theatrically displaying a lean, athletic body, then walked across the room and climbed into the carnivorous plant, which promptly started digesting him, feet first.
The victim's lover, a sturdy, muscular lad in his late teens, showed up a few minutes later. "It was all a simple misunderstanding," he insisted. Mickey poured another wine cooler, which the lad downed in a single gulp. Mickey pointed out a second carnivorous plant in the same far corner. The lad stripped, stalked across the room just as theatrically as the first one had, worked himself into the midst of the second man-eating plant, and started arguing with his lover over whose fault it was that both of them were now being eaten alive.
----------
And a few minutes after that, the all-too-ordinary man limped back into the bar. A centuar backed hastily out of the ordinary-looking man's path; another exotic -- with the horns of a bull, the naked body of a weight-lifter, and a set of prong and balls befitting a stallion -- broke off a conversation with Mickey and backed away from the bar.
"Now do you admit that this -- this fragrant blossom is ust what the Exotics Bar's barkeeper needs?"
"I admit nothing of the kind," said Mickey, wiping his hands on a towel. "Those last two -- You were spying, were You not? -- I handled without having to ask any questions at all. As for the body-builder and the two young hoods --" He waved his hand dismissively. "-- it might have taken a little longer to plumb their wells of woes, but having this truth-evoking blossom on hand would take all the fun out of bar-tending. So -- thanks but no." He pushed the vase, fragrant blossom and all, back to the all-too-ordinary-looking man. "Care for a drink before You go? On the house -- no obilgation? No, well, do have a pleasant evening anyway."