A quite enticing lady goes as much as the bar in a quiet rural pub.
She gestures alluringly to the bartender who comes over instantly.
When he arrives, she seductively alerts that he ought to deliver his face near hers.
When he does so, she begins to softly caress his beard which is full and bushy.
“Are you the supervisor?” she requested, softly stroking his face with each fingers.
“Really, no,” he replied.
“Are you able to get him for me? I want to talk to him,” she mentioned, working her fingers up past his beard and into his hair.
“I’m afraid I can’t,” breathes the bartender, clearly in hassle. “Is there something I can do?”
“Sure there’s. I want you to present him a message,” she continues huskily, popping a few fingers into his mouth and permitting him to style it them gently.
“Inform him that there isn’t a rest room paper within the girls room.”