My Pixie Bartender Ch. 01 – Fetish – Free Sex Story

Author’s note:

A lot of wonderful memories popped up while I was reading through my journals and listening to recordings from the time this took place. It became longer than I had expected with a lot of set up involving the night we met, so the first chapter is just an introduction. The action doesn’t begin until chapter two, so if you don’t want the backstory, start there.


It was time for a change. My marriage had ended a couple of years ago. I got the house in the divorce. It was way too big for one person, but the property value tanked with the housing crash and we couldn’t afford to sell. The mortgage was in my name, so when it wasn’t sold by the time of the divorce my ex signed a paper saying she didn’t want half of it and walked away. What a gem.

I did the online dating thing for a while, but that’s a serious minefield. About a year ago I met an incredible young woman who became a very close friend for a while. She would have been perfect if we were a little closer in age, and if she was straight or at least bi. She met a really nice woman, moved to California, and got married. Since then the house has just seemed empty. Prices were finally back up and with a large pharmaceutical company moving their corporate office to my town I was finally able to sell it for a profit.

I got rid of the house and bought a small two bedroom, 1.5 bath house two blocks from the beach in a Jersey shore town. It had been wrecked in Hurricane Sandy so I got it for a ridiculously low price and cashed in some stock options to have it renovated. The plan was to eventually buy a house closer to the city and keep this as a weekend getaway. But I worked from home most days so for now this was home.

Part 01

It was May when I moved in so weekdays here were dead, but the town was showing signs of life on the weekends. It had been a long week. After staring at programming code for over fifty hours my eyes were shot and I needed to get out of the house. I decided to see how the bars on the boardwalk looked. I’d been here many times for vacation, but this was my first time here in the off season. The bars all had small crowds, but there was one a couple of blocks down that really looked to be hopping.

The entire front of the bar was made of glass doors that opened up right onto the boardwalk. It seemed like a fun place and had good music playing so I grabbed a seat In the middle of the bar which had to be 60 feet long with two bartenders on each side. The one working where I sat was on the tall side, probably 5’8″ or so, long black hair, full sleeve tattoos that snaked up to her neck, and a somewhat thick build. She wasn’t fat by any means, but had a big butt and solid looking legs that really filled out the stretch pants she was wearing. If I had to guess I’d say she weighed in at about 160 lbs.

“What can I get you hon?” She appeared to be in her mid 30’s but her voice sounded like a 60 year old woman who spent her life smoking two packs a day with whiskey chasers. Probably not my type, but being single, I immediately noticed that although she had a few rings, there were none saying she was married or engaged. There’s a difference between flirting with your bartender and with a married woman.

I ordered a beer and watched her head over to the cooler. Those stretch pants really did look good on her. She handed me the beer, left my tab in a glass in front of me, and went off to help other customers. I realized quickly that she was pleasant, distant and uninterested. She called everyone “hon”, but it was clear she didn’t want to know you. I guess you get like that being a female bartender in a tourist town that’s popular with the twenty something party crowd.

At about 9:30 the crowd had thinned out to about half the size when I came in. I heard some noise around 10 seats away and a woman shouting “HEY!! Jimmy!” The bouncer at the door started moving toward the commotion, and I saw the bartender for that side climbing over the bar and grabbing a customer who was heading out the back door. I don’t know what she was saying to him, or what he did, but she was pissed! The thing that struck me though was the balls on this woman. She was tiny. Easily 10″ shorter than the guy she grabbed and a little wisp, like a pixie with a big mop of red hair. And combat boots. And stockings. Damn, I have to go sit at her side of the bar.

The bouncer escorted the guy she grabbed back to the bar where he pulled out his wallet and threw down a few bills. The little red headed bartender glared at him the whole time, cashed out his ticket, and threw a handful of cash at him and stormed off into the back somewhere.

Around 10:00 my bartender asked if I wanted another drink. When I said “no thanks, I still had half a beer left, she asked if I could close out my tab. She was done for the night and glad to be leaving. I paid the tab and watched her walk off to the register. I felt bad staring, but damn, those legs. Too bad she wasn’t interested in talking.

I was messing around on my phone as I finished my beer. ESPN was on the TVs, but it was a talk show with no volume so they weren’t worth watching. I picked up my glass, and as I was noticing that it was empty I heard “Watcha drinking there Slick?”

I looked up and there was the little red headed pixie standing in front of me. “I guess you’re my new bartender.” I said with a laugh.

She laughed, “Well you’re a perceptive one, I’ll have to watch myself around you”, and she winked at me, saying “watcha drinking?”

“Well yeah, I’m kind of sharp like that.” I gave her my order and she went to get me another beer. Man, was she tiny. She couldn’t be more than 5 feet tall, 152 cm for the European readers out there, and really did look like a pixie. Whip thin, but not to the point of looking boyish. And her style was fun. I noticed her boots and stockings when she was confronting that customer earlier, but now that she was in front of me I got a better look. They were combat boots and looked like they were pretty old and broken in with worn treaded soles and a thick heel, maybe a half inch high or so. Black stockings that were semi see-through, black jean shorts with a bottle opener and bar rag hanging from her belt loops, and a black and gray Ramones T-Shirt.

She came back with my beer and flashed me a smile, “You want to pay now or open a tab?” I gave her a credit card to open a tab and she smiled again. It was a genuine smile that even touched her eyes; the prettiest, greenest eyes I’ve ever seen in person. She didn’t even seem to be wearing any makeup, just a natural beauty. I watched her work the bar, bopping around, that mop of red hair bouncing around like it had a mind of its own, joking and flirting with the customers, pretty much behaving like everyone in the place was a friend who came to see her put on a show. It was pretty apparent the effect she was having on me was shared by all her other customers, men and women alike.

Now in case you don’t know, I’m a foot guy. Sure, I’m a big fan of every part of the female body, especially legs and butts, but underneath it all, pun intended, I’m a foot guy. There are a lot of us, and probably as many kinds of foot Fetish as there are people who have one. My Fetish leans heavily in favor of sweaty, extremely smelly feet. I prefer stockings to bare feet, and really couldn’t care less about size, arches, what color toenail polish she has or whether it’s in good shape. So while this little pixie of a bartender was doing her thing, it was tough for me to not watch her feet in those boots dance around the floor, and dream about what they would be like after working all day.

As it got later the bar cleared out. There were only about a dozen customers left and the two bartenders who were left had pretty much cleaned up for the night. Most of the customers were couples deep in conversation, a few older guys who looked completely glazed over, and one big scary looking guy who seemed to be glaring at everyone in the bar. I watched the little bartender bop around, checking on everyone. When she got to the scary dude she slapped her hand on the bar and shouted “Hey Train!” He jumped a little, she told him it was time to call it a night, and he lumbered out of the bar.

Suddenly she was in front of me. “So, what’s your story Slick? Down for a little pre-season, pre-craziness relaxation?”

I laughed and said “No, I just bought a house a few blocks away so you’ll probably see me around a bit. I’m more about preparing for the tourist season craziness right now.”

“Oh cool, another regular to help pay my rent.” There was that smile again. “It’s nice to meet you, I’m Jackie.

“Nice to meet you too Jackie, I’m Max. I’ve got to tell you, you are just a whirlwind behind the bar. I was a bartender for a while so I know how hard it is, but you made it look fun. And that guy you just sent on his way, he would have scared the hell out of me. You know him?”

She smiled and laughed a little. “Well I try, we get some jerks like that one who tried to skip out without paying, but other than the occasional idiot I usually have a good time. And Train is ok. He bounces for another bar my boss owns that’s popular with bikers. Being afraid of him is smart, nobody messes with him more than once.”

“I hope you don’t mind, but as soon as I saw you hop over the bar, the word “pixie” popped into my head and now I keep thinking of you as a little punk pixie.”

She gave me a devilish grin and said “So, you’re thinking of me already, huh? My spell is working faster than I thought.” and laughed a bit. “I don’t think anyone has ever called me a pixie before, at least not to my face. I like it, as long as you’re not putting me in the same category as that goody two shoes Tinkerbell.”

Beautiful, smart, funny, edgy… I started wondering where women like this come from, but then decided I don’t care. There was one right here talking with me.

We talked for a while about how it was living on the island. She had been here for years so had (very strong) opinions on where to find the best of everything from cheesesteaks to dry cleaners to coffee spots. She occasionally went off to help customers, but kept coming back to talk. It was good being a newly minted local. A little before 1:00 she said it was last call and asked if I wanted one more beer. I asked if she would be able to keep chatting with me if I ordered one.She said she would, so I did.

I was only half done when she started telling people that it was time to go. She got back to me, assumed her chatting position, and asked if I wanted to finish up my beer while she was closing up. Well of course I did. She yelled out “Hey Jimmy!” The bouncer looked over and saw me sitting at the bar. He slumped a little then started to get up. She yelled “No!”, pointed at me and gave a thumbs up. He returned the gesture and sat back down to watch the door.

“You’re a pretty powerful woman Jackie” I joked.

She laughed and replied “And don’t you forget it!” She poured us both a shot of tequila and mixed herself a drink, saying “That one is on me. Can’t be selling alcohol after hours.” And gave me a wink.

We talked as she was cleaning up, sometimes close up, sometimes yelling across the bar. I told her that I was about to take off after the first bartender went off duty but was glad I stuck around. The two of them were completely opposite, and the atmosphere went from feeling like just another customer who had to be waited on to feeling right at home. Jackie surprised me by saying “Yeah, well she hates it when guys stare at her Ass.”

I didn’t really have a response. I didn’t think I was staring, but I did look. Anyway, I was caught so just said “Oh man, I’m sorry about that. I didn’t mean anything by it, and was really trying not to stare. She just has a great figure.”

Jackie responded with “Don’t worry about it. I don’t understand why she gets so upset. She’s always all about making sure she looks good, and always wears those yoga pants, then gets pissed off when people actually look at her. Hell, when sober guys check me out I find it flattering and go flirt with them; as long as they’re not creepers. I mean you’ve been checking out my Ass all night and I’m here flirting with you.” And gave a little laugh. Then she started walking to the other side of the bar, wiggled her Ass at me and said “Here, take a picture; it’ll last longer than your memory. Plus you’ll have a “helper” for later on.” and winked at me.

Well she sure didn’t hold anything back! She’s what my grandparents would have called a little spitfire. I didn’t want to let that one go so shot back with “My memory is just fine, thank you very much. And since you’re still flirting with me I guess that means I’m not a creeper.”

She came out from the bar and sat on the stool next to me. God, was she small. I didn’t realize how thick the bar mats were until she stepped down about an inch.

She answered “Nope, not a creeper, and yep, still flirting. But you might want to look away every once in a while when you’re ogling a woman’s Ass. We see everything.” And laughed a bit.

I laughed a little and sat there thinking for a minute, then figured what the hell. “What if I told you that I wasn’t only checking out your Ass most of the night?”

She snorted a little when she laughed at that like she’d heard it all before, telling me “Don’t even try to squirm you way out of it, I caught you staring at my Ass all night, Megan’s too.” I hadn’t heard it, but Jimmy the bouncer was asking if he could lock the doors and take off. She left for a minute to close up the safe, then gave him a thumbs up and sat back down.

The break gave me a little time to collect my thoughts. I had just enough booze in me to drop my normal filters while still being relatively sober. “Ok, so yeah, I was checking you out. You have a great body, how could I not? But please believe me when I say that it was a ‘damn, she’s gorgeous’ stare, not a ‘how do I get in her pants’ stare. I’m about as far from a player as you can get.”

She laughed a little and pushed me, saying “like a player would actually admit it. I know I’m not gorgeous, but I am adorable”.

“No, really, you are. But honestly, I wasn’t staring at your Ass the whole time. I was actually looking at your boots quite a lot.” I took a deep breath and let it back out, not really surprised that it was a little shaky. Her confused look made me clarify that a little, “I kind of like feet.”

She looked at me and I could see her mind processing behind her big green eyes. Finally she said “So you were looking at my boots because what, you have a foot Fetish? Or do you just like boots? I dated one guy with a foot Fetish a long time ago and what a pain. All the upkeep, and weekly pedicures, making sure the polish was just right, washing my feet before we messed around, ugh. You’re really into all that?”

I needed a drink so grabbed my beer and was more than a little disappointed to find that I had already finished it. Jackie asked if I needed another drink so I said “Sure, if you want to finish this conversation.”

She answered “Definitely, this is getting interesting. Come with me, I know a place that’s still open.”

We walked a few blocks away to a grungy looking liquor store, the kind of place I wouldn’t want to go into unless it was this time of night and nothing else was open. Jackie said hi to the guy behind the counter, and walked through a door that looked like it should have been for employees only. On the other side was a small lounge with 6 or 7 people there, and a bouncer who she also knew but who asked for my ID anyway. Jackie nodded when I gave her a questioning look, so I gave the guy my ID. Jackie looked at it and asked if it had my new address. This was getting weird. She explained “The ID is for me, not for you to get in here. With so many tourists we kind of take care of each other here. This place is only for locals and their guests. He’s going to take pictures so if anything happens to me, they know who I was with and can give it to the police.” I thought that was pretty cool, so flipped my license over to show the DMV sticker with my change of address. The bouncer took a picture of both sides, handed it back, and we went in.

We got a couple of drinks, sat down on a couch, and she said “So, about you and boots?”

I was a little weird. We were in a small room, she knew everyone and they all knew her. It felt like everyone was watching, and more importantly listening to me. I asked Jackie if we could go sit on the boardwalk when we finished our drinks. She understood, but must have really wanted to know why I was staring at her boots because she basically pounded her drink and we were out in under 10 minutes.

To be continued…

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