running her hands beyond his beard and into his hair.
“I’m afraid I can’t,” breathed the bartender. “Is there anything
I can do?” “Yes. I need for you to give him a message,” she continued,
running her forefinger across the bartender’s lip and slyly popping a
couple of her fingers into his mouth and allowing him to suck them gently.
“What should I tell him?” the flustered bartender managed to stammer.
“Tell him,” she whispered, “There’s no toilet paper, hand soap, or
paper towels in the ladies room.