A stunning lady walked as much as the bar in a quiet rural pub and beckoned the bartender over with an alluring gaze.
As he eagerly leaned in shut, she gently stroked his full beard and ran her fingers via his hair. “Are you the supervisor?” she purred softly.
“No, I’m simply the bartender,” he breathed, fully captivated by her contact.
“Are you able to get him for me?” she requested, sliding her forefinger throughout his lips and playfully letting him suck her fingers for a quick, breathless second.
“I’m afraid he’s out,” the flustered bartender stammered, his coronary heart pounding. “Is there something I can do for you?”
She leaned in even nearer, her lips brushing his ear, and whispered:
“Sure. Please inform him that the women’ room is totally out of bathroom paper, cleaning soap, and paper towels.”
