Barbara The Bar Keeper: a Milf’s diet for happy living.

Barbara stuck around the bar area later than usual. She had no intentions other than to help Lou close up after a long day. There was nothing special about that night. Just another simple night in another simple town in the middle of a boring state whose corn fields stretched for miles around. Barbara was born in the same delivery room where both her daughter and newest grandchild came into the world. Around these parts, people knew one another not only by their first names but also by their heartbreaks.

Big Louis’ has become a staple of the town over the years. Generation after generation of local drunks and bitter divorcees would often congregate around the oak wood counter that had more stories to tell than any modern day dramatist.

Time was getting late as the night matured. The cold wind of darkness signaled that winter was approaching sooner than expected. By now, her only daughter must have fallen asleep across from the old television set where she and her accidental son would spend their nights watching old cartoon shows to pass the time.

While Lou went into the back office to finish up the paperwork from another plentiful night, Barbara was doing her best to serve the last remaining drinkers while cleaning up for the night. There were a few customers hanging around the place despite the late hour. Those same old faces that Barbara has seen for so many years. By now they all appeared exactly the same to her, beaten in their loneliness.

Jack sat all by himself at the edge of the bar. Neither the cowboy hat nor the cigarette smoke that surrounded him could disguise his tender age. While most regulars sat around and engaged in the typical conversation about college football, getting laid or whatever it was that men chose to speak about, Jack would typically keep to himself. He seemed like the quiet type.

Twenty minutes after last call and Lou was getting ready to leave. By now most customers have gone home, all with the exception of an elderly couple, a businessman who was driving through town and Jack who was writing down notes in his journal as he often did. Doing his best to avoid his empty hotel room, the stranger kept the conversation going.

“So what does a man do around this town at such a late hour? You’ll have any other bars that stay up later? God darn it darling, do you mind getting me one last drink?”

“Sorry hon., I am way past last call. Time for this little ole lady to call it a night, it is time for me to go home to my baby girl.”

“Well, than, can this southern gent offer the little ole lady a ride home?” He offered.

“No need sweaty, I got my own set of wheels.”

“Well in that case, there ain’t no good reason for this good ole boy to stick around this dump. Why don’t I just leave you here to be with little author boy sitting there all pretty in the corner taking notes down in his faggy journal and thinking he is better than the rest of us drunks.”

Jack let out a careful smile and in his silent way used his fingers to let Billy Bob know that he best take a flying fuck before getting his redneck ass beaten by youth.

But Barbie had it all under control. “You take it easy now Mister, aint no need to get to fighting”.

Now it was just the two of them. How many times did she imagine this scenario during those bracing winter nights when she would lay in bed all by herself with her fingers so soft upon her skin?

“You want a drink Jack?”

“No thank Barbara, I am good.”

“You can call me Barbie sweaty, that is what all of my friends call me.” She smiled.

Jack slowly and unapologetically surveyed her body from the other side of the bar. Her, in her early fifties and him a mere pup. His body chiseled and foolish, hers saggy and experienced. That of course with the exception of those two large sized cups that no men regardless of age could ever keep his eyes from. True, she had to go to the doctors several times for maintenance. Most men simply have clue of how much work these babies demand from a lady, but hey, they were totally worth it, best $2,000 her ex-husband ever spent on her.

After they made love on the bar counter, Jack went out for a cigarette while she laid there blissful in her state of undress. Gosh, she thought to herself, no one screwed me like that in years.

As she invasively read through the secret pages of his journal, she came upon short passages of ordinary tales, lines of poetry and random thoughts.

How surprised was she as she came across that poem that was dated with today’s date and entitled Barbara The Bar Keeper: a Milf’s diet for happy living.

How curious it was, she thought to herself that one moment of living can even for a moment erase the heavy burden of past years.

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