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I hadn't meant to corrupt him ­ it just sort of...happened.

As with most tales, this one begins at the beginning, all flowery prose and propriety, introducing first myself, and then the character that we'll call "Tommy Boy," for the sake of his anonymity.

My name is Kayla North.

I am a Canadian woman thirty years of age, as of last month, and hopefully the wiser for it. I am of above-average intelligence, and average humor, and hold a degree in Computer Science from the University of Manitoba. My education is the one thing that I've not yet had the opportunity to apply to the 'real' world, for reasons I'll disclose shortly.

I am five foot nine, one hundred and forty pounds, the last time I checked. I have dark green eyes and long hair that is naturally quite curly: I dye it burgundy every two months. I use my Shapes Co-Ed Fitness Center membership on a daily basis, and as a result, am in immaculate shape. I am a bisexual by nature, and dominant partner by choice. I haven't had a steady boyfriend or girlfriend for the better part of three years: I prefer it that way.

I am a firm believer that the benefits of casual sex outweigh the disadvantages of such a lifestyle...

I am the Owner-Operator of the Boulevard Motor Hotel located at sixteen hundred Queen Avenue, in Winnipeg, Manitoba, Canada. I won the place in a poker game with the previous owner, Bill Gilroy, who had recently won the 6-49 lottery and was feeling as generous with his wagers as he was feeling rathe...amorous that night. Which meant very generous, and very amorous. He was after a piece of my ass, and didn't seem to mind that all that I, university student, could afford to wager against his bar was my piece-of-shit Honda Accord, a striptease, and a blow job.

Suffice to say, I did not lose, but won the bar instead (and Bill Gilroy is now retired in the Bahamas somewhere, likely still chasing after university-aged pussy). So, long story short, I've been operating the Boulevard for the better part of nine years now. The place turns a good profit, and I love the ambiance and the people ­ from the circuit strippers to the DJ to my bartenders to my waiting staff ­ I wouldn't give them up for the world. I can't imagine leaving the Boulevard to pursue a career in computer science, especially since my education is now all but obsolete. I've never worked in the industry, so I'd likely be so far behind the times...

I'm a Pascal, COBOL, C and C++ programmer in a Java and HTML world.

Suffice to say, it would not be worth my while to pursue computer science. And besides, I'm happy with my Boulevard. At times, I'm ecstatic with my ownership! And I have so many reasons why...

Perhaps I'll tell you a little bit about the Boulevard or "Bully" as we like to call it, before I introduce Tommy Boy, my former flavor of the week...

The Boulevard Motor Hotel consists of three parts: a thirty-six seat licensed restaurant called Amanda's, a fourteen-room hotel on the second floor, and the 'Bully' beverage room itself, which seats a hundred and twenty, and has standing room, and Video Lottery Terminals (VLTs) for plenty more. The Bully also has a cordoned-off eighteen-by-eighteen foot dance floor, attached to the DJ booth, with two removable ceiling- to-floor poles for the strippers' shows. The tables are all round, with four chairs a piece, and sturdy despite the many bar brawls that have occurred here over the years. There's an L-shaped bar where two bartenders are normally stationed, with a third bartender on Whisky Wednesdays and Fun Fridays, our busiest nights of the week.

Our motto here at the Bully is "cheap booze and wild entertainment." The strippers work from Thursday thru Saturday (inclusive) with six shows a day, and we usually have a live band or new DJ every Wednesday night. Monday nights are our football nights, when we have the game on the big screen (in season). Tuesday nights are Ladies' Nights, we try to get the male strippers in for a show twice a year; even more often if we can book them ­ they're harder than hell to book, unless you know the people involved personally (but then, that's another story).

Though I'm a non-smoker by choice, the Bully is not; we have an awesome air-exchange system that clears out most of the smoke, making the atmosphere a pleasant one for all concerned. On the dance floor, the music is blaring, enough to make one senseless, but in the tables along the walls, the noise is low enough for one to carry on a decent conversation, without having to scream your replies over the newest Top 40. There you go - that's the Bully, my favorite part of the establishment, and by far, the most profitable end of my business...

Now the story I'm about to tell you is one that occurred the summer I turned twenty-five. I was younger then, and as ambitious as always, both in and out of the bedroom. This is the tale of Tommy Boy, who I will introduce to you now.

Tommy Boy walked into my bar like he owned the place, which sort of irked me, this being the first moment I had ever seen him here. He walked like the pompous sort of jackass who has a big dick and likes to get laid a lot...the kind of pompous jackass who thinks himself above reproach, and above women in general. The kind of guy that really irritates me, really pisses me off.

The kind of guy who needs to be taken down a notch... or two.

I was bartending that Thursday night, since Theryl was going to be a few minutes late, due to car trouble. She was one of my favorites, while under my employ ­ a very dedicated and hard worker, that girl. Theryl made one hell of a margarita, let me tell you... I lost her a few years ago, when she decided to take up Nursing. She comes in here once in a while with her new husband, so it's nice to see her familiar face, even if she doesn't work here anymore. I never burn my bridges, old lovers being the only exception.

Tommy Boy would come to be one such exception...

He was blond haired and well built, easily six feet in height, with broad shoulders and a real fly-popper of a package. He had a perpetual hard on, as he would for the duration of the short time I knew him. As he approached my bar, I could tell that his blue eyes were fixed on my breasts, acknowledging my tits before he acknowledged my face. Irritating, in short. He made a point of staring at them, as though he had never seen a C cup before...

It was then, from his first glance, that I decided to break him, however I could.

"Hi," I greeted him anxiously, with the slightest bit of mischief in my smile. "Haven't seen you in here before."

"It's my first time in here, actually." He replied with a lazy drawl, his baby blue eyes stealing away from mine to glance again at the plunging V-neck of my shimmering gold shirt. So he liked my boobs. A lot. Not that I can blame him: they're a very nice set, perky with youth, but rounded with maturity. Two perfect handfuls...

Anyway, he seemed easy enough. I would soon learn just how easy he was...

"What are you having?" I asked the brazen boy, guessing his age to be at least twenty.

"I don't know ­ what time are you off?" He smiled at me then, and I saw a predator in his grin. He obviously thought himself so... smooth. In truth, his youthfully naive overconfidence was really quite amusing.

This was going to be too easy... "As soon as Theryl gets here." It was just my luck that she was behind me at the time, logging into the Squirrel point-of-sale system. "And there she is."