A beautiful woman went up to the bar in a quiet rural pub.
She gestured alluringly to the bartender who approached her immediately.
The woman seductively signalled that he should bring his face closer to hers. As he did, she gently caressed his full beard.
“Are you the manager?” she asked, softly stroking his face with both hands.
“Actually, no,” he replied.
“Can you get him for me? I need to speak to him,” she said, 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.”
