>A woman went up to the bar in a quiet rural pub...
>She gestured alluringly to the bartender who approached her
>immediately.
>She seductively signaled 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 bartender managed to say.
>"Tell him," she whispered, "There's no toilet paper, hand
>soap, or paper
>towels in the ladies room."
