There's Something about Sarah Ch. 04

Chapter Four -- Bruno's Bar and Grill

The phallus was long, thick and veiny. The glans was an angry purple color and clear droplets of pre-seminal fluid oozed from the eye.

The red nailpolish I was wearing contrasted nicely with the smooth, almost silky pink flesh of the turgid member as I slowly stroked the throbbing shaft. He sighed and then gasped as I extended a finger and caught a globule of the precum and rubbed it into his fraenulum. I smiled; gladdened that my ministrations were giving him pleasure.

He reached out and gently eased my head towards the rampant erection and I opened my mouth obligingly and licked the clear syrup dripping from the glans and then took the already pulsing penis into my mouth. I moved my lips up and down the shaft; flicking my tongue around the sensitive base of his glans; then his other hand also rested on my head and pulled me harder into his groin.

He pushed up and grunted; forcing his hard manhood deeper into my mouth. I didn't gag. I slavered at the quivering cock and sucked on the shaft, evoking his orgasm. He moaned and shuddered as his penis pulsed and erupted in my mouth. I swallowed the hot, musty seed, feeling both submissive and powerful knowing that I had given such pleasure to my lover.

When he had finished ejaculating I licked the last of his issue from the eye of his penis and smiled. I looked up into my lover's face and that's when I started to scream.

Staring down at me with a malevolent smile was Bing Holthouse.

I screamed and he started to laugh and I screamed harder and louder.

I woke up from the nightmare and opened my eyes.

I was lying safe in my bed in my small apartment and all was well. It was just a bad dream.

I was in my first year at Haas School of Business at the University of California, Berkeley where I was undertaking a two year MBA to be followed by a one year Masters of Financial Engineering.

But once again I'm getting ahead of myself...

Amanda came running to me as I stood sobbing in the dust and exhaust fumes as Drew drove off into the night.

I was inconsolable, tears running down my already mascara smeared cheeks, my Prom dress ruined. She led me inside, undressed me and bathed me. She wrapped me in a white woollen bathrobe and sat me down and lit me sit me a cigarette and gave me a tumbler full of bourbon.

"You know you can't stay here Sarah. Things are not going to get better for you," she sighed.

"I know!" I shouted.

We spent the rest of the night packing everything I had into two beat up suitcases, drinking whisky and smoking but we never discussed what happened to me. Unsurprisingly Sloane did not return home that night.

Amanda drove me to Austin; we left in the grey pre-dawn light and I sobbed for about an hour, other than that we said nothing to each other. My mind was racing; I needed to plan my future. I stopped crying and began to think. I had the beginnings of a plan by the time we reached the outskirts of Austin. Amanda broke the silence.

"Mary-Jo Bilkin rang me and told me what happened at the Prom. As much as she knew anyway. I don't know what happened after you ran out of the Prom and I don't suppose you want to tell me," she mumbled around her cigarette.

I just turned and glared at her.

"That bad huh? I've been taken against my wishes more'n once; 'taint nice but it ain't the end of the world neither," she said.

"You have no idea!" I hissed.

"Yeah, well once or twice there was more'n one," she squinted over the smoke.

I shuddered at the memory of the previous night and then cleared my mind.

"I'll need money," I said woodenly.

"Taint much left but I guess now you're movin' on what's left is yours," Amanda lit another cigarette off the butt of the one she had just finished and handed me a passbook.

"My trust fund?" I queried.

Amanda nodded; staring straight ahead.

I opened the passbook. There was a little over $7000 left in escrow. It wasn't until I was on the Greyhound heading west that I flicked through the well-thumbed little booklet to see that Amanda had spent over three hundred thousand dollars over the twelve years I had been living with her and Sloane. That's only $25,000 a year but still a pretty penny in 1986.

"And take this; you'll need some cash," she rummaged in the pocket of her coat and thrust three hundred dollars in greasy bills into my hand.

"Where you goin' hun?" she stole a glance at me.

I saw genuine sorrow on her face.

"I'll call...Or maybe I won't," the old car chugged into the bus depot.

Amanda didn't get out from behind the wheel. I realised then she was too ashamed.

I climbed out of the rusty Ford pickup. Sloane and myself joked that the panels had more Bondo than metal in them and the fading paintjob was a patchwork of primer and mottled duco.

I was wearing skinny jeans, a baggy long-sleeved T-shirt and flats. I had combed out the hairdo and wiped off the makeup that Sloane had painstakingly done for me for the Prom and my hair was worn in a simple ponytail and my makeup minimal. I hefted my suitcases out of the pickup's tray and shouldered my large vinyl tote bag.

I didn't look back; I strode over to the ticket window and bought a ticket to Oakland California. It cost me twenty five dollars and lucky for me the bus was leaving in fifteen minutes.

By the time my suitcases were loaded and I was seated in the rear of the half-empty bus I was mentally and physically exhausted and when the Greyhound lurched out of the bus station I was fast asleep.

I awoke as the bus pulled into a gas station and diner on the outskirts of Tucson.

"One hour stop folks; enjoy and don't be late re-embarking," the driver called out as the brakes hissed and the door opened.

The diner was garishly lit; all vinyl and formica and it smelled of fried food, stale coffee and disinfectant. I peed and then ordered coffee while I laid out some paperwork on the table. A middle-aged travelling salesman sauntered over, smiled a licentious grin and pointed to the chair opposite. I turned down my mouth and gave him the finger and he blushed, mumbled something unintelligible, and stumbled away. I later regretted discomfiting him that way; but at the time I was in no mood for a come-on -- by anyone.

On the table before me were acceptance papers for both Texas U at Arlington and the University of Houston. Both were out of the question of course. There was also an acceptance from the University of California. I'm not even sure why I applied; just to see if I could get in I suppose.

I wrote down the number of the Dean of Admissions on a napkin and went over to the payphone and dropped in a quarter. When I returned to the table fifteen minutes and seven quarters later I felt a little better.

I smiled at the waitress and waved my cup at her for a refill and began to stuff the papers back into the manilla envelope when something dropped out. I picked it up and stared at it. It was a Polaroid taken by Amanda of Drew and I dressed for the Prom.

A single tear ran down my cheek and then I felt my anger building and I screwed up the Polaroid and threw it towards a nearby trash can where it bounced off the rim and tumbled to the floor.

"Are you ok hun?" the waitress asked raising an eyebrow and smacking her gum.

I gave her my best smile and nodded as she filled my cup.

I gulped at the hot coffee; I had no appetite but I was very thirsty.

"All aboard! Greyhound for Oakland California now leaving!" the driver bellowed through the diner door.

People began to gather their belongings and file out the door and I followed. I was last in line when I got to the door of the bus.

"Wait! Wait!" I squealed at the driver and ran back inside the diner.

I raced over to the trash receptacle and breathed a sigh of relief when I saw the crumpled Polaroid still there on the floor. I snatched it up and ran back to the bus giving the driver my biggest smile and he gave me an appreciative grin, forgiving me for holding up the bus.

I fell into my seat and carefully smoothed out the photograph.

I took another bus from Oakland to Berkeley and checked into cheap hotel and slept until midday. I bought takeout coffee, a bagel and a copy of the local rag and perused the classifieds, circling potential lodgings.

I found a cheap one-room furnished apartment close to the University of California and signed a one year lease, shelling out the bond from the remains of my inheritance. The place was sparsely furnished but good enough for my needs. Over the next few days I bought some curtains, rugs, small appliances and knick-knacks to brighten the place up. I kept myself to myself pretty much but I did go to the hairdressers and had my hair dyed brunette and cut into a bob.

The extravagance of my first professional hairdressing experience was wonderful and after the treatment I hardly recognised myself. I was still attractive but I looked older and I hoped more worldly. I was very much aware that I was a small town teenage girl in a big city.

About a month after I had settled into my little apartment I became acutely aware that I wouldn't be able to survive on my trust money. it was dwindling fast and I had signed up for a pre-term coaching class which started next week and I was yet to pay any of the University tuition fees but I'd done the math and the payments were going to clean out my trust. I needed a job.

One block down from my apartment was a bar called Bruno's Bar and Grill. It wasn't so much seedy as, shall we say, atmospheric. Relying mainly on students for cliental during the university semesters, it survived on the patronage of locals during the breaks. I had been in the place a couple of times just to test the water so to speak; the legal drinking age was twenty one and I was sure I could pass with my new hairstyle, makeup and the appropriate outfit. Both times I had been served a beer and a shot without being carded.

I also figured it was the kind of establishment that didn't regularly card its customers anyway; relying as it did on the college crowd for income. I had noticed the sign in one of the windows 'Bar Staff Wanted'. I dressed in a simple skirt and blouse ensemble and low heels ensuring I was showing plenty of leg and fussed over my hair and makeup until I was happy that I looked the part. I wanted to look fresh and sexy but also mature.

Bruno Basso was a large, swarthy man; proud of his Italian heritage and it was obvious he was taken with me as soon as he laid eyes on me. His dark droopy eyes scrutinised me intently, lingering on my long nylon-clad legs and my underdeveloped chest.

"You've got no tits but with legs like those and that pretty face you'll pull in those college boys," was his assessment of me, without even asking if I had any experience behind a bar.

I started working at Bruno's six nights a week; 7pm to 11pm Monday through Friday and 4pm to 11pm on Saturdays. The job paid minimum wage and I split my tips with Steve Soderman the other barman, and Lucy Bellows the waitress.

Steve was a skinny kid about my age and it probably took me three shifts to figure out he was gay. He was out and out 'faggy gay'; he had the lisp, the effeminate mannerisms, and dressed al la David Bowie circa 1973. Also, he didn't hit on Lucy or me unlike Bruno who took every opportunity to rub his crotch against our asses behind the crowded bar. I didn't really mind, it went with the job and was reassuring in some way that my secret was safe.

One evening Bruno cornered me in the stockroom; he'd been drinking on the job and his blood was up. He pressed me against the shelving with his big haunch and I could feel the heat of his erection on my belly. His fingers raked my thighs and he lowered his face to mine and he opened his lips. He smelled of garlic, onions and Jack cheese.

I slipped out his embrace and held him at arms distance.

"Bruno! Really! You'd only regret it and think of Mary waiting for you at home," I chastised him.

Mary was Bruno's wife, she was petite and pretty and as placid as a mouse. Bruno apologised.

"I'm sorry Sarah. You are so beautiful and sexy and I've been drinking. I promise it won't happen again," he sighed.

Bruno put a twenty in the tip jar that night but his promise didn't stop him copping a feel or rubbing up against me and Lucy whenever he got the chance. We both just put it with it; we needed the job and it was the 1980s, and sexual harassment in the workplace was still 'de rigour'.

Lucy became my first friend in California. She was vivacious, loud and sassy; the opposite to my shy, cool and demure demeanour. She wore her blonde hair teased out with red and blue highlights, flouncy skirts and dresses of tulle and satin, fluro-colored lustrous pantyhose, too much makeup, too much jewellery and spiked high-heels. Think Cindy Lauper on steroids.

The college boys and locals alike loved her. She teased and flirted with them but never went beyond that and because of that the college girls liked her too. She made double the tips of Steve and I but she still insisted we split the spoils.

"Hey you're my sister in arms," she said one night and hugged me.

I thought of Sloane and held back tears.

I was well into my first semester and besides working at Bruno's, outside of my classes I did nothing but study. Plenty of guys hit on me but once again I had become the Ice Princess and they gave up eventually.

I loved living in California; it was so different to the small Texas town where I grew up and the people were so different to the rednecks like Bing and his football buddies. People were sophisticated and tolerant. The races and the sexes mixed freely. Women still hadn't broken the glass ceiling but around Berkeley and most of California you weren't likely to be beaten up because of your race, sexual orientation or your beliefs.

One Saturday evening after we had closed up, Lucy and Steve collared me and talked me into having a drink before we left the bar.

"Hey Sarah why don't you come out with us," Steve asked flicking ash from his cigarette into the large crystal ashtray.

"Nah. I'm really not up for it. I wanna study tomorrow for an exam I have on Monday," I replied.

"Oh fuck me Sarah! You're acing your grades and you're top of your class. You're the only one of us girls who won't have to give professor Biderman a blowjob to pass his trickle down economic theory class!" Lucy laughed.

"And what! Boys can't give a professor a BJ to pass?" Steve rejoined.

We all laughed.

After a couple of freebies on Bruno's tab they talked me into going out with them.

We squeezed into Lucy's beat up Toyota and she drove us downtown and parked in the parking lot of a club that was garishly lit with pink and aqua neon. 'Bendy Wendy's' was the name of the club which I figured was cute and later discovered was also apt.

We coughed up the two dollars admission and got stamped on the wrist. The stamp was a cartoon figure of a vamp lady, think Betty Boo, sitting cross-legged on a barstool displaying her stocking tops with 'Bendy Wendy's' lettered underneath.

The place was dark, with booths running along the walls, a long bar and a small dance floor and it smelt of stale beer and cigarette smoke. An all-girl band was on the small stage cranking out a pretty good rendition of 'Walk Like an Egyptian'. We made our way through the crowd to the bar and to my surprise an elegantly dressed lady who looked a little like Betty Boo herself leaned over and kissed Lucy on the lips.

"Wendy, meet Sarah; Sarah, meet Wendy," Lucy smiled as she made the introductions.

Wendy took my hand in hers and kissed the back of it.

"Charmed I'm sure. Any friend of Lucy's is a friend of mine," she smiled at me with brilliant white teeth framed by her bright red lipstick.

"Two Jack's and coke; and a beer for Steve," Lucy smiled.

Wendy poured the drinks and put them in front of us then she leaned over the bar, her ample bosom nearly spilling out of her bustier and enveloped me in a cloud of perfume. She wore a lot of makeup, her eyes outlined with kohl and her lashes heavily mascaraed, her cheeks were rouged and her lustrous black hair was curled and framed her pretty face. I guessed she was in her forties but it was hard to tell.

"Your first drink is on the house darling; after that you pay...one way or another," she stroked the back of my hand and smiled licentiously.

She reached across the bar and kissed Lucy again, this time the kiss was passionate with lots of tongue action. Wendy stroked Lucy's face as they kissed. I blanched at this open display of affection but then I looked around and reality hit me.

Boys were dancing with boys and girls with girls. There were some boy-girl couples but not many. A lot of the couples were kissing and groping each other in the dark club and I felt an uneasiness creep over me.

"Oh my god you should see your face Sarah!" Lucy grinned.

"You've got a lot of growing up to do you Texas cornbread hick; kick that cowshit off your heels and smell the perfume sugar," she laughed.

I smiled back at her and raised my drink. We clicked glasses and both burst out laughing.

"I'm sorry I just never guessed," I smiled at her.

"Yep I'm a big lezzo and Wendy is my squeeze," she smiled back.

Steve had wondered off and was sitting with a group of young guys talking animatedly over the music.

"Let's get a booth," Lucy took my hand and led me to a quiet booth away from the bar and the dance floor.

"To my first gay bar experience," I raised my glass to Lucy and we both drank our drinks.

A waitress arrived immediately with refills.

"The perks of fucking the owner," Lucy smirked.

We chatted for an hour or so and then Lucy excused herself and got up to dance with Wendy. I had quite a buzz going and was feeling very pleasant as I sat there perusing the passing parade. I almost didn't notice that someone had slid into the booth and was sitting beside me.

I turned and was about to tell the person that the seat was reserved for Lucy when I looked into the most gorgeous face I think I had ever encountered. Her face was elfin; heart-shaped with green eyes, tiny nose and cupid's-bow lips. Her jet black hair was short, emphasising her long elegant neck and alabaster skin. She was wearing a green satin Cheongsam with a Mandarin collar; the hem rested at the top of her thighs showing off her long elegant legs sheathed in sleek flesh-toned hosiery. Her waist was tiny but her bosom was quite ample.

"I'm Tina," she smiled at me and offered her hand and my heart melted.

Other than Sloane, who I worshipped as a sister, I had never been attracted to a woman before but I became instantly infatuated with Tina.

I took her hand in mine.

"I'm Sarah," I smiled back at her.

She leaned forward and kissed my cheek.

"With that accent you definitely ain't from around here," she grinned.

"No I'm from Texas," I replied.

The conversation came easy and before I knew it I was telling Tina my life story. That is the life story I had concocted; no mention of me being adopted as a small boy named Stephen Grayson or of the events of the Prom night. I glossed over all of that and told Tina of being taken in by my aunt Amanda while I was still a little girl and of my love for my sister Sloane. It was all happy families and serenity. No mention of Amanda being a whore and Sloane following in her footsteps. No mention of me being outed as a trans woman at the Prom or the assault that followed.

Tina and I fell into an easy repartee, drinking and joking and more drinking. Some time during the evening we danced; basking in the comfort as we held each other close.

Lucy came back to the table sometime later. I had lost track of time.

She scrunched up beside Tina and me and grinned.

"Well! How good is this! My two best friends sitting together and getting cosy."