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James, or “Jimbo” after he was drunk, lit another cigarette – his fifth, and was only on his third beer. Of course there'd been three shots of Patron consumed as well, so maybe it was the combination of tequila and lime that sparked the need for nicotine. “What color d’ya s’pose those nipples are?” he floated the question to his two coworkers with a voice well beyond a discreet volume. That was his way. Brash and obnoxious was cool in his eyes. It mattered not that he appeared as a prick in the eyes of most men…and nearly all women. Unbelievably though, some women kind of liked that in their men. It disgusted Grayson, and it prompted him to question his judgment in agreeing to meet for a couple of beers. Bobby, also known as “Duke”, in any frame of inebriation, turned his eyes to mentally undress their server, as she wiped off a few crumbs missed by the busser on an adjacent table. Grayson blushed with embarrassment, as he silently pondered what motivations could possibly exist for ol’ Jimbo to be such a pompous dick. He was funny as hell for the most part, but after enough alcohol he would rapidly transition into the drunkenness category of “intellectual giant”, eventually migrating into “bulletproof asshole”. God help any females within sight if he made it all the way to invisible. That achievement had only been accomplished once before that Grayson could recall, but they managed to escape Bennigan’s before the cops arrived. “Hell, ask her,” suggested Duke, tossing back clear rocket fuel in his shot glass and took a long pull off his fourth Corona to chase it down. The Patron was so smooth he didn’t even use the lime. Grayson attempted to intervene in his slow southern drawl. “Nah, guys don’t do…fuck...this is her fucking job. C’mon man.” He looked hard at Jimbo, jaw muscles flexing as he gritted his teeth. The look was wasted because Jimbo was zeroed in on what most conscious males, and possibly some select females, would call awesome breasts. Shifting the death stare to Duke he realized there was no sense in subtly trying to make a point. These two just weren’t going to get it. That behavior was typical. Jimbo gets bold, and Duke is right there to swear to any lies told. Despite his suggestion to ask the question, he was the follower. Maybe instigator is a better description for Robert “Duke” Ellington. Either way, the combination of alcohol enhanced pomposity and duplicitous assholism from these two guaranteed somebody, most likely a female, would be on the receiving end of their quest for entertainment. For that reason, Grayson put up a good fight trying to turn down their offer to go grab a brew after work. He gave in because Jim promised that he could not stay long, and Bobby had something else he had to do later. He couldn’t perceive them getting into that much trouble in an hour. What he failed to factor in was the availability of tequila, and as a result, found himself up to his conscience in embarrassment – once again. “Pink or brown?” asked Jimbo when their server approached. He was sporting a class four shit-eating grin, and his eyes were locked on to the same breasts that he had just directed his question. “Pink or brown?” she repeated the question with a confused look. Duke’s eyes were also locked on. “Yeah, your nipples. Are they pink or brown?” They both were speaking directly to her breasts. The fact that a woman was attached was missed entirely. Grayson turned three shades of red darker than his previous level of embarrassment. He just shook his head and buried his face in his hands silently asking himself why the fuck did he let them talk him into this? “Well, what do y’all think?” she answered back, not skipping a beat. “I dunno,” countered Jimbo, “is that your real hair color?” “Yep,” she said. “Everything’s the real deal. So what do y’all boys think, pink or brown?” Pressing them for a guess. Grayson relaxed a little. This woman was showing signs of standing up and dishing it right back at them. This new development just might be the turnaround that saved his buzz. He’d figured she’d been waiting tables for a while and was used to drunken guys making lewd and suggestive comments about her body. And an incredible body it was too. Grayson remembered her from a few previous dining visits and was impressed every time. Shoulder length, dirty blonde hair framed a striking face with very kissable lips and flashing blue eyes. It was obvious she worked out because the definition in her arms and calves was remarkable. He entertained his own images of her stretched out on a bed with her arms over her head begging to be serviced. Yes…well…that delicious image aside, he’d never be crude enough to ask her what color her nipples were. He’d choose different tactics to earn permission to unbutton her blouse and see for himself. “I dunno either,” said Duke. “How do we know for sure that that’s really your natural hair color. Ya’ know, we might need some further research before we can make a call like that.” “Jesus, guys!” muttered Grayson into his hands. He was so red now that his ears felt like they were going to burst into flames. “C’mon, make a guess. Y’all started this!” She paused, looking at them, waiting for a response. Her hands were on parked on her hips and a slight movement pulling her shoulders back a bit spoke volumes. She was proud of her tits and had no intentions of telling anybody what color her nipples were. “So do y’all want another round of beers and shots while you’re collecting the balls to make a guess or what?” “Oh, yeah, that’s just what we need,” said Grayson sarcastically, lifting his head out of his hands and looking up at her. “Why would you want to throw gasoline on a fire like that?” “Hey, I’m just trying to give y’all the courage to take a guess and satisfy y’alls little curiosities.” “Y’alls?” protested Grayson. “Look, I didn’t ask about…I’m not…” “Sweetie, you wanna’ know too. C’mon. Confess. The mystery is killin’ all three of y’all.” “No ma’am it isn’t killing me. It’s not something that should have been asked in the first place. You’re a beautiful woman and all, and your…your…they’re incredibly nice too, but there’s a line that got crossed here and I…I’m…Hell, I’m going to the men’s room.” Grayson got up in the midst of his fluster and headed for the red neon restroom sign hanging on the back wall. Jimbo and Duke sat snickering like a couple of fourth graders as he departed. He didn’t look back. It would have just pissed him off even more. In the men’s room he stood in front of the urinal still shaking his head in disbelief. It was unbelievable to him that those two idiots would even ask her something like that. “What makes some guys such idiots?” he asked no one. His eye caught some scribbling on the wall just over his line of sight. “If you can piss above this line, you should be working for the fire department!” He had to laugh out loud. There was documented proof of the answer to his question. The premise for asking a waitress what color her nipples were was an exercise in creative idiocy. Most likely it was another creative idiot who scrawled those words on the wall. No doubt there were many idiots in his footsteps who actually thought about trying it. Chances were good that a select few probably attempted to certify themselves as viable fire department candidates right there in the Hooter’s men’s room. Some guys just never grew up despite getting older, missing the chance to capture a little wisdom and common sense along the way. He had to grin again, this time reflecting on his coworkers. They were both good guys – both condemned to being creative idiots with no sign of rehabilitation. After washing up, he strode back to the table to find another round of Patron and fresh Coronas waiting. Jimbo and Duke were laughing about something when he walked up. Jimbo had just fired up another cigarette. “How many of those things are you gonna’ smoke?” asked Grayson. “As many as it takes to make my lungs bleed, dude…why?” fired back Jimbo. “Good plan, man! You should be hemorrhaging any second and will probably croak right here and never knowing if they’re pink or brown.” “Damn, bubba! I didn’t even think of that,” said Jimbo, and with a flourish stubbed out his smoke in the ashtray. Duke erupted with a gagging guffaw, blowing Corona out of his nose as the hilarity of Jimbo’s feigned health concern struck him as outrageously funny. Grayson just shook his head and laughed along with them. Sometimes he just couldn’t fight the tide. “Well, did you two bozos find out while I was in the head?” In unison both Jimbo and Duke pointed at him and blabbed, “See, you did want to know.” Bobby carried on with, “You fucking puss. Sit there and bust our chops and all along you wanna’ know just as bad as we do.” “Hey…so maybe I do,” Grayson replied evenly, palms up in a gesture of resignation. But then his voice changed as he continued. “But one thing’s for sure. I’d not be treating her like she’s not a person working to pay her bills. You assholes don’t see that she’s doing a fucking job in a goddam restaurant. She’s not dancing on some runway at some sleazebag tittie bar where she’d expect bullshit questions like that now is she? Show a little fucking respect.” “Jesus, Gray. Don’t get your panties in such a big ‘ol bunch. We’re just havin’ a little fun,” protested Jimbo. “Fuck your fun, man! There’s a time and a place, and this ain’t neither,” said Grayson with a note of finality, sitting back in his chair and tossing down the last shot of his evening out. Evidently he made his point because both Jimbo and Duke had nothing to say in return. A moment of silent reflection ensued and beers were finished before Duke finally spoke his mind. “Well, I’ve had all the fun I can stand for one night.” “Yeah, I’ve had enough too,” agreed Grayson. “Where’s the check?” “I got it while you were in the head, Gray,” Jimbo said. “Thanks, man! “Yeah, thanks,” added Duke. They got up to leave. Grayson looked around for their server, half considering making an apology for the treatment she received at the hands of his two idiot friends, but she was tied up working another table. Jimbo led the procession between the other tables and toward the door. He went out first followed by Duke. As Grayson reached to catch the door, a hand grabbed his forearm and he turned to look into those flashing blue eyes of their server. “I over heard you talking to your friends and just wanted to say two things to you. First, thanks for recognizing that I’m a person bustin’ my ass to make a living. And second,” she paused and a grin crossed her kissable lips before continuing, “they’re pink.” Then she kissed him on the cheek leaving a perfect lip print before turning back to her job. When Grayson came outside, Jimbo was the first to spot the lip marks on Grayson’s cheek. “Damn, boy! What have we here?” Duke joined in saying, “Aren’t we somethin’ special now?” “They’re pink,” was all Grayson had to say. Copyright 2002 - MyErotica |
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