Tirupur Aunty

It's a restaurant, with the bar upstairs. We call it the Jazz Club, although it's officially named after its location. It's in a wonderful old Antebellum house, with dark wood paneling, high ceilings and a rich, tasteful ambiance.I like it there because it's got a nice selection of single malt Scotch, and they allow cigar smoking in the bar. I don't actually like cigars--smoking them or being around the smoke--but I do like my pipe. The Jazz Club is one of the few places where I can be comfortable and enjoy the flavors of my sweet Cavendish tobacco and a glass of Macallan.So I'm there once, maybe twice a week, with or without my business partner, to relax after work. The bar opens at 4:30, and I guess I'm a regular. At least, I'm on a first name basis with all the servers, and I honestly can't remember the last time I had to tell the bartender what to pour for me.I usually go there on Tuesdays. The girl who works cocktail is cute, and nice to talk to when it's slow and there are few. Upon arrival, he took my things and we trudged off the tram. The sun was in its final stages of setting and he rushed ahead running wildly through a pack of seagulls that inhabited the courtyard. We made our way up the winding staircase into his cozy flat and flung my things comfortably onto the floor. The lights were low and the flat very clean. He cornered me up against the door, peering down on me from hair covered eyes then gently leaned in and kissed me on the cheek. We finally fell into a nice hug, firmly squeezing each other. No words were exchanged. Finally he indicated that though it was late he had planned on cooking dinner for us and told me to relax on the couch while he took control of the kitchen. Not being able to stand being in a different room from him, I snuck into the kitchen and started cleaning dishes in the sink. After he had some food on the stove he came up behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist and nuzzled my neck kissing it. It was so easy to get lost.
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