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While I was working my way through college, I got a job at this dirty little bar. It was a real toilet. Every night, the same people passed out on the same stools. [censored] college kids tried to sneak beer, and pinch the waitresses' asses. Most of them didn't care as long as the tips were good. Hell, half of them hustled on the side anyway.

But there were three good things about this bar: the drinks were free for the staff, the tips were unbelievable, and Whitney was the other bartender. God she was hot. Our uniform was blue jeans and a white t-shirt. She was very talented at filling out both. When I first got there I made my pass, like every one else. I also got shot down like everyone else. I soon forgot my damaged pride when I realized what a good pair we made. I made the drinks and handled any problems; she flirted with the old men to get us better tips. It was perfect! One night working that bar with Whitney, and I would clear more than I had in a month at my other bartending job.

Anyway, I've always been real good at what I do. So it wasn't long before my lush boss gave me the keys to the place. All he wanted to do was sit at home and drink himself blind. I got a raise when I got the keys, but that didn't matter as much as the fact I would be alone with Whitney when we closed. I wanted her bad, and I meant to have her. It had nothing to do with love. Weeks of working together behind a tiny bar, brushing against each other, innocent little games where we only pretended it was an accident, had led to a very acute awareness of each ...

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