FOWC with Fandango — Deviate

FOWC with Fandango — Deviate

9/22/2020 Deviate

The styrofoam container of mashed potatoes slump out of the bag as I extract tonight’s dinner from my cluttered arms. I holler up the stairs at my teens and husband who have all been working from home all day. I survey the damage as I deposit milk in the fridge and my briefcase next to the couch. The sink is full. The counter is cluttered with remnants of brownie baking, colored pencils, and what looks like science notecards. The cats are unfed and squalling around my ankles. Upstairs remains silent. They probably all have on headphones. I walk to get the cat food from under the counter and feel the crunch of a thousand Cheerios underfoot. It’s not really a thousand but there’s enough to be noticeable by the naked eye. I glare at the highly visible broom.

“And miles to go before I sleep,” I mutter under my breath as I deftly begin the simple chores. I tackle the dishes and clutter with gusto. I’ve almost returned our square of paradise back to the default setting, when my family thunders downstairs. Plates fly to the table and the world is filled with delightful chatter. The drive through meal is consumed in a flash and soon, dishes are back in the sink and the tornado returns to the upper realms of the house.

I wipe the table and sigh as I move towards the newly dirtied dishes. My reflection startles me in the window, haggard and weary. Sunlight dances across my backyard and the trees beckon me with their leafy arms. The woods are lovely, dark and deep. Literally. They are lovely. I open the back door and leave the monotony of my everyday drudgery. I kick off my shoes and tuck my socks inside. The grass welcomes my toes and I find a plush spot in the middle of the yard.

The world slows and stills as I’m lulled to sleep by the birds and breeze.

“Seriously, Mom?!

I open my eyes to see my children peering down at me. I have promises to keep.

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Brian was my manager at PoFolks when I was 18.  We had an amicable working relationship as I was a punctual and hardworking employee.  He knew that I could run all twenty-four tables by myself even on All You Can Eat chicken night and I was always quick to give him a smile and share a stolen moment of merriment at the drink station.  He was tall and thin with clear blue eyes and completely not my type. I now like men who are barrel chested, strong, and exude masculinity, but all I knew then was that  Brian and I had an ease when working together and he took care of me.  

I often worked the weekday evening shift as the sole waitress because we had few employees, a light rush,  and Brian knew that I needed the money to pay for my college textbooks.    I had wrapped up the rush and was beginning to roll my silverware quota when a large man came in for the evening special.  I served him with my gentle smile and then busied myself with my methodical wrapping of forks, spoons, and knives.  We were the only two in the front of the restaurant, but I was by far not alone.  I knew Kenny was washing dishes, Josh was on the line possibly smoking a joint, and Brian was in the office.  The sweet sounds of Bill Monroe played  over the speaker and I was ready to go home.  As soon as this gentleman leaves, I know I can lock the door for the night.  

PoFolks uniforms were benign.  I was wearing a tight pair of Levis, a white button up shirt covered in various splotches of food, a red apron around my hips and my signature square-dancing suspenders that were red with rhinestones.  My hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail and I’m pretty sure I had coated my lips with a bit of cherry  chapstick, but I otherwise did not wear makeup.  I was tired from a long night of waiting tables and I’m pretty sure that I smelled of chicken grease and sweat.  

The man raised his glass and clinked the ice to signal me to bring over the pitcher of Coke.  I walked over and began to fill his glass.  

“Everything ok?”  I asked.  

He grunted at me and snaked a hand up the back of my leg.  I laughed nervously and picked up his plate.  

“Where do you think you’re going, sweet young thing?”  he growled and pulled me onto his lap.  I could feel his growing bulge through the pieces of fabric that were separating my body from his. He snaked a rough hand up my blouse and fumbled with my tits while I squimed in protest.  He squeezed my nipple hard and laughed as I struggled in his grip.  He undid the button on my pants.  Luckily, I still had the pitcher of Coke in my hand and I quickly dumped the contents over his head.  The cold chill of soda shocked him enough so he released his grasp, and I made a mad dash to the kitchen.   Tears were streaming down my face as I burst into the office and gulped to Brian what had happened.  Brian guided me to a chair and gathered the other two workers to go with him out into the restaurant.  The man was gone and he didn’t even leave a tip or pay his bill.  Brain locked the door and came back to me huddled in his rolling chair.  

He put his hands on my shoulders and I melted into  his arms.  He pulled me close and stroked my back while I cried.  He smelled like buttermilk biscuits and a spicy scent that only men possess.  My sniffles subsided and Brian pulled back from our embrace and handed me a Kleenex.  I sat on his desk and took off my apron stuffed full of my daily tips.  It clunked on the desk.   
“I’ll drive you home and make sure you get in ok.” Brian promised as he pushed a curl out of my eye.I looked at him intently. My blood was still pumping through my body from my narrow escape, but now it changed course to a  more southerly direction. Brian was married and at least twenty years older than me.  I know that I am a frightful mess and not the picture of desire, but in that moment, I wanted him. He was my knight in shining armor, and I felt a burning desire to show my appreciation. I tried to  shake off these thoughts.  

“Can you help me clean up?” I asked him and together we go back to the dining room to sweep and reset the tables.  We worked in silence for a hour and the other employees have already gone home.  My last task was to wheel the condiment cart into the walk in refrigerator, and Brian lends a hand.  I arranged the cart in while he put away the milk.  It was chilly and our breath came out in little puffs.  

“Thank you, Brian for helping me. I can’t believe that asshole!” I ranted and the anger I had been holding in spews out in a vicious string of obscenities that ended with me punching a bag of salad.  The bag splits, leaves fell to the cooler’s floor and I laughed.  Brian and I bent to clean them up and again I felt his heat.  I kissed his cheek, but my lips wander to his mouth.  My teenage tongue danced between his lips and I moved closer to him.  He pulled me in his arms and we balanced against  a large box of melons.  My fingers worked the buttons on my shirt and soon I was just  in my white cotton bra.  I shivered from the cold and Brian pulled me closer.  His hands ran up my back to undo the clasp.   My breasts puckered at the change in temperature and I felt his mouth cover my nipple and I groaned with pleasure.  I reached for his pants and his eyes flashed to mine.

“No.  I can’t.  We can’t. It’s ok. Let me take you home,’ Brian mumbled as he hands my my bra.

I hungrily looked at him and reached again for his belt.  He conceded and leaned back against a rack of produce.  I released his cock from his pants and knelt on the cold floor of the refrigerator.   I felt all the air squeeze from my chest and my world became fixated on that pulsing engorged flesh.  Brian guided my hand to touch him and I began to work my hand up and down his shaft.  My stomach was full of butterflies anticipating  what I knew would happen.  I allowed my lips to lick the pearl of wetness that had formed and my hungry mouth soon followed my hand’s rhythm.  My eyes met his and he stroked my jaw line before tangling his hands in my curls.  He pressed my head against him and I felt my throat tighten around his throbbing cock.  I wanted more.  I allowed my tongue to trace the head of his dick and heard him gasp as I lapped his shaft frantically.  I took him all the way down my throat and put his hand on the back of my head.  I wanted him to hold me in place and use my face for his own pleasure.   My hands gripped the back of his thighs  and he began to moan and thrust hard between my lips.  I felt him spurt hot against the back of my throat and I greedily swallowed.  I pulled back and one last ribbon of  cum spewed out from him and landed on my bare breasts.  My eyes widened at the massive globs of white creaminess splattered against me.   His knees finally buckled and he sat down on one of the boxes.  I wiped myself with my shirt and stood between his knees and kissed him.

“That was incredible,” he stammered as he watched me get dressed. “You know we can never do that again, darlin.”  He cupped my chin and kissed me once more.  He helped me gather my things and we locked up the restaurant, and he drove me home in silence. I never worked a solo shift again and Brian always gave me a wink when our paths crossed.