Dive Bar Fashion

People wear the weirdest shit here. And it goes way beyond guys in striped shirts over plaid shorts.

There’s a guy playing pool in spandex and cut off sweatpants. An old lady with chaps on over her jeans. Girls that forgot to take their old dingy gray/white bras off before they put the halter tops on. On a Friday night. When they are looking to get laid. C’mon girls, really? Are you rocking some granny panties with brown stains in the crotch too? Tonight, my personal favorite is a BIG woman with even BIGGER boobs, no bra and too short of a shirt. She is at one of the lottery machines in her electric wheelchair and every time she lifts an arm there it is. Her nipple.

It’s Sandy’s fault. She made me look. I probably wouldn’t have noticed otherwise. “Hey look over there.” She pointed.

And I looked just in time to see a worn oversized nub of a nipple poke out from under her shirt, followed by the never ending pink of her areola. At least most of her under boob was hidden by her knees. Still, now, it is all I see. Nipples, nipples, everywhere. It doesn’t help that she gives me a flashback just about every time I glance over at the lottery machines. And a personal show when she reaches up from her wheelchair to hand her ticket over the bar.

I can’t help it. I shudder in disgust, right in front of her.

So you would think that by the time I get back with her money she would have pulled her shirt down right? Nope. If anything it is hiked up even higher. Can’t she feel the breeze?

It stares at me while I count her winnings back to her. I try to block it out but even from the very bottom of my peripheral vision it takes over and becomes all that I can see! “Thank you,” she smiles as she reaches up for her cash and I swear it winks at me! Winks at me!

I don’t shudder this time, because she is smiling at me. So I realize she knows what she is doing. And she likes it! “Pervert,” I mutter as she rolls out of earshot.

When she comes back with another ticket she wants a Pepsi too. I ask her if she wants the cost taken out her ticket.

“What? I’m playing the machines! Its free!” She is mad. Her nipple is madder.

Not here. Charlie doesn’t let anything go for free. If I give it to her I’ll have to fork over the two dollars to pay for it myself.

Of course, it’s worth two dollars to get that big worn winking staring nub out of my face. Finally she starts to roll away, back to the machines. But then she takes a sip and comes back, “This isn’t diet!” she shrieks as she reaches up yet again to put the glass back on the bar.

“You didn’t say diet,” I say as I dump it out.

“It was implied,” the nipple answers for her.