Another Wild Christmas in Reno

Wild Turkey and a Blowjob if You Please Bartender

As I went about the business of housecleaning I thought about how Christmas in Reno all began almost a year prior. Although I had no family or friends in, “The Biggest Little City in the World,” I’d chosen the entertainment and gambling Mecca because I got a fantastic deal on airfare and hotel accommodations; also, as a single service member I had money to burn. Christmas Eve morning almost a year ago began my wild ass holiday in Reno.

After an uneventful flight across the world the hotel shuttle picked me up at the Reno-Tahoe International airport around 9am Christmas Eve morning. Blessed with clear sky but chilly temps I began the approximately 15 minute journey to the Peppermill.

Once I arrived I met my personal VIP Concierge, Phillip.

 Phillip advised me he’d scheduled me in the Peppermill Tower. A spacious Deluxe Two Queens Room, 350 square feet, voted the best in Reno rooms year after year. “Would you like to see it Sir?” he asked,

“No, if you say the room is sufficient that’s good enough…Besides all I need is a place to throw my weary body down and a bathroom.”

“May I have your bag taken to your suite Sir?”

“No, but I do need some good food this morning, I’m famished.”

“May I guide you to a couple of our finest eateries Sir?”

“No, just direct me to one that will serve me the biggest and best breakfast for my money. Gotta have great coffee too…Then, I want a quiet place to drink.”

May I suggest the hotel coffee shop Sir? They serve the best breakfast in Reno 24/7. Their food is delicious and moderately priced.”

“Sounds like my kinda place.”

My next mission after concluding registration and breakfast ferret out a watering hole that served my favorite bourbon—Wild Turkey 101. I also needed to find some civilian clothing and then once out of uniform I thought Reno might be the Shangri-La in which to get laid or at least get a decent blowjob or two before my leave ended.

I began walking around checking out the casino looking for a watering hole. Wow! What a place, I thought.

My deepest desires during my leave to overindulge in fine American food and beverage. I also wanted as many blowjobs as I could cram in that two weeks period from males, females or both to relieve the heavy load in my balls. I’d grown weary of secluded masturbation in Afghanistan.

Finally, around 10:45am I wandered into a quaint out-of-the-way little bar on the hotel property: Devil’s Lounge. It took my eyes a few seconds adjustment to get used to the dimly lit bar. Once my eyes focused, there to my wondering eyes, displayed at eye level on a glass shelf with mirrored backdrop behind the bar, sat an unopened bottle of Wild Turkey 101.

I pointed to the bottle and said authoritatively, “Gimme the bird, three fingers please.”

Seated on the barstool with my B-4 bag at my feet I watched the exotically attractive bartender wearing a white dress shirt with black bowtie covered by black satin vest grab the bottle of bourbon off the shelf and break the seal on my call. Uncorking the bottle with a slight pop he poured the Kentucky bourbon into an old fashion whiskey glass. “For some strange reason I knew Wild Turkey might be your call when you walked in the door Sir,” the bartender said. “Not many people order Wild Turkey or use the fingers measuring method. Kinda antiquated old school call, not heard much anymore.”

“Yeah, well I’m kind of an old school, type guy,” I replied. “You leave that bottle within arms reach, I’ll be drinking more.”

“I hear that Sir,” he said before asking, “Ice?”

“Nah. Neat,” I replied.

The bartender pushed the four inches tall old fashion glass with a black Devil’s face and the name of the bar embossed on the glass towards me before he said, “Somethin tells me I’m gonna enjoy servin you Sir…How long you gonna be with us Major?”

Before answering I thought, for some crazy reason the attractive bartender, a sexually intoxicating man, excited me. Maybe a couple years younger than me, he might be a person of interest and someone with whom I needed to curry favor during my stay at the Peppermill.

“Two weeks,” I replied handing over my hotel-casino VIP card that I’d been issued upon registration along with my Army identification card and credit card. The bartender examined my identification card questioningly and looked back at me.

“Problem,” I asked.

“You could’ve fooled me Sir.”

“How’s that?”

You don’t look 34 Major…I figured you for around 30,” he said as he slid the casino card through the register.

I guess I should’ve been flattered about the age compliment, considering I’m a weathered old combat vet with tours in Afghanistan, Iraq and other third world shit holes.

Before charging the drink to my credit card the bartender said, “You know you’ve got $50.00 dollars credit on this VIP card, plus certain other military discounts Sir. You can use it for free slot play, drinks or towards meals.”

“Yeah, I think the guy that issued the VIP card went over that. Okay, just charge the drink to my hotel card…Let’s use all that credit up before I leave here today. When the credit runs out charge the drinks to my credit card.”

I sipped my bourbon in silence while the bartender concluded the transaction. Of course my mind secretly occupied with what the man serving me might look like nude, wearing nothing but that cute little plush red and white Santa hat. That mental image began to arouse me as I alternated watching the television on the wall and bartender.

“What’re your plans Major?” the bartender asked handing my cards back.

“Don’t know yet…Have fun…You know, drink, eat, gamble a little, get laid…At least a blowjob or two.”

“I hear ya,” the bartender said. “So which do you favor?”

“Favor?”

“Blowjob or pussy?”

“I’d have to say blowjob.”

So, there I sat alone and horny on Christmas Eve afternoon, desirous of bourbon, and a blowjob before the stroke of midnight, and this guy asks those questions.

“Cool,” the bartender said, “remember if there’s anything I can do to assist you, making your stay more pleasurable, you let me know Sir.”

Oh if he only knew, I thought as I watched people come and go for their last drink before heading home to be with family.

The bartender served them and cheerfully wished everyone a Happy Holidays, because wishing Merry Christmas no longer socially acceptable or politically correct to say. My mind played with thoughts about how the sexually alluring bartender and I might intermingle in bed. How I might go about engaging him for sexual favor. I’m a people watcher, an act that over the years has been a most helpful part of my military career, especially as an Intelligence Officer, gathering information.

Over the years I’d become somewhat a student of kinesiology. The science of that addresses physiology, biomedical and psychological mechanisms of movement. The characteristics and body language provided insight while questioning enemy combatants. Many times the muscles and nerves in a POW’s body, especially the face and neck, may be used as an informal lie detector.

Muscles are stronger when telling the truth and weaker when lying. I’d learned to read people by listening and paying attention to certain characteristics.

I’d watch for certain tics, eye contact, fidgeting, speech hesitations, looking up or down as well as many other body language indicators such as excessive blinking and dilated pupils. For the most part I’m able read who are likely liars; furthermore, I’d become pretty good at determining a person’s sexual life style. At least I thought so, I’d never been busted.

I couldn’t yet make a solid call on the bartender’s lifestyle.

As the last patron departed the bar the bartender smiled that sexy irresistible smile while pouring me another round. I smiled back.

“If you weren’t drinking Major I’d close early, hopefully get laid or get a blowjob before midnight.”

No one else in the bar besides us, and from what I could hear the casino didn’t sound too active either. I imagined many of the hotel guests had departed to finish their last minute Christmas shopping before the stores began closing, or were preparing to enjoy Christmas Eve festivities with family or friends. Of course many families would attend traditional Midnight Mass.

“I’ll leave whenever you’re ready to close,” I said.

“That’s okay I need the money,” the bartender replied. “Besides I’d rather have you drinking with me than someplace else. I like your company.”

“I’m enjoying your company too.”

“I like warriors,” the bartender said with a sensuous smile.

“So what are your plans for Christmas Eve and day,” I asked, probing for a positive comeback like suck your cock all night and into the morning.

“Nothin much…Workin till midnight tonight…Off tomorrow, but I’m sure some asshole will call in sick and I’ll get stuck workin tomorrow afternoon or evening”

“Sorry about that,” I said. Maybe we can go out on the town after you’re off tonight.”

“Okay, but got to get back early. We open the bar at 10am tomorrow for the Christmas brunch crowd. Christmas brunch is served from 11am to 11pm, great prime rib, seafood as well as other foods and deserts on the menus at the different eateries throughout the hotel.”

“No family?” I asked.

“Nope, none around these parts.”

“So, you’re pretty much in the same boat as me,” I said. “I’m just gonna to drink and hope for a blow job or two before the day is over.”

I can help you with the drinking,” the bartender replied. “But not sure about the oral sex…I bet neither of us would turn down a blowjob or two tonight,” he snickered.

I tapped my finger on the rim of my glass, thereby ordering another drink. Then we got around to introducing ourselves before engaging in more foolish banter about blowjobs.

When we shook hands Nick’s middle finger lingered longer than usual in the palm of my hand, dragging the tip subtly across the sensitive area as he smiled back at me. Finally I asked, “So, St. Nick you know where I could get my dress uniform cleaned and pressed as well as some civvies at this late hour? My duffle bag hasn’t caught up to me yet…All I got is what’s in my B-4 bag.”

“I can check…What are your sizes Major?” St. Nick asked.

I gave Nick my sizes for shirt, pants and sneakers. He wrote the information in a little notebook. Then I made a foolish remark, “About six inches, that’s the most important size for me.”

“And which way is that coming or going Major?” Nick asked trying to contain a snicker. “By the way is that measured with an AOL ruler or standard ruler?”

 We continued to laugh between quips. We were warming up to each other as we continued joking around, laughing, playing the game, cautiously feeling each other out. Nick, a very astute young man, smiled back at me before he said, “Most stores in the area are closing or closed now, but there are a couple Men’s stores in the hotel…Let me make a phone call or two to see how I can help.”

“Okay,” I said as St. Nick busied himself on his cell phone. “Also see if there’s one of those one hour cleaners where I can get my uniform cleaned and pressed.”

Once off the phone he said, “You might want to consider remaining in uniform tonight and tomorrow...People are more responsive to military personnel these days, at least here in Reno…Not like back in our parent’s day, you know, Vietnam vets…Besides I think you look awesome in your cammies.

“Thanks, I said, but this uniform is a little ripe. Been wearin it since I left JBAD.”

“Me, I’m kinda fond of the fearless scent of another warrior.”

Um, I thought, Maybe there’s hope for that blowjob tonight after all.

“As for the dress uniform, I can get it cleaned and pressed right here and get the utilities cleaned too.”

I put my B-4 bag on a table, opening it to retrieve my dress uniform. I pulled it out along with a package of badges and decorations, laying them all on another table in the bar along with my jump boots and beret. In a flash an Asian man appeared. Without a word he picked up everything from the table and then departed.

“Thank you Nick,” I said. “That was quick.”

“No problem Sir.”

“Again, if you could locate some causal clothing I’d be appreciative,” I said as I palmed Nick a couple twenties, cash finder’s fee.

As Nick took the bills from my hand once again his middle finger lingered, however more obvious this time as he took the cash. This time his middle finger nail scratched lightly across the tender area of the palm of my right hand. Producing a tickling sensation as he licked his lips sensually, indicating there might be sexual interest in me, before pulling his hand away. I knew the signals.

A stimulating sense of electric current passed between us causing Goosebumps as well as arousal in my loins. He smiled at me with a come-hither look. If not mistaken, his look indicated he might be available for a nightcap after work.

Maybe a player, I thought, Wild Turkey and midnight romp, if you will, what more could I ask for. 

A provocative appearing devil, St. Nick’s irresistible sexual charm and exotic appearance continued causing my cock to engorge, elongating down the inseam of my pants.

Nick’s cell phone rang. He answered. A short conversation ensued with the caller before he hung up. “Harold at the men’s store here in the hotel said for you to get over to his shop right now he’ll fix you up…That gives you about 15 minutes.” St. Nick gave me directions to the shop.

“Hold my bar bill I’ll be back shortly,” I said as I dashed out of the bar with my B-4 bag in tow.

I made the men’s shop just in time. Harold took me before he locked the door to spend all his time getting me outfitted with civilian duds. A couple cool long sleeve sport shirts, a pair of dark dress and tan casual slacks, dress socks, swim attire, dark sports jacket, and more.

With everything fitting well Harold swiped my VIP card for my military discount followed by my credit card. I thanked him for staying open to assist me and handed him two twenty dollar bills as a tip. I assured him that I’d be back for more clothing before my stay ended. With the haberdasher’s shopping bag in one hand and my B-4 bag in the other I dashed back to the Devil’s Lounge to continue my primary mission—drinking Wild Turkey.

[Again, the introduction and subsequent chapters are the beginnings of a rewrite for Wild Turkey Christmas Eve in Reno posted on Nifty from 24 December 2012 to 29 July 2012, Chapters 1 through 12 and then Christmas in Reno, posted on GD 13 November 2013; therefore, some of the dates may not add up or make sense. The two are the same basic story. Over the years I have reworked the story, a work of fiction based on some true facts, of course certain names, dates and places have been changed. Read the story for purpose of entertainment. 

If you care to critique, compliment or see more chapters let me hear from you (readers) by way of comments on GD or e-mails at: bn2rumpranger at yahoo dot com

All rights reserved. This story may not be distributed or reproduced on any other sites or publications without the express written permission from the author. This work is protected by all applicable copyright laws.]