“Hi, Julie,” Corrine sighed. “Where is he?” She had just walked into the restaurant, and now she was looking towards the back corners. At five foot nine inches tall, she could see over most of the crowd of shorter girls moving around in the front of the grill. She was dressed for office work, but even though she herself looked pretty good, her clothes and makeup were not really fashionable enough for a front office position. That was mostly by design. Even though she was supposedly just the receptionist and secretary in the engineering department, she often had to help out with parts receiving, inventory, or even transport to or from various shops. Nice clothes got messed up and makeup got smeared. She kept a change at the office for the heavy jobs and she wore jeans a lot. Today she had on a button up blouse, a loose skirt and a pair of Calvin Klein wedges. Her work boots were at her desk, just in case. She wore her wavy red hair pulled back in a sensible clasp. At twenty-five, she was already indispensable as the ‘Jane of all trades’. Today, she was apparently the taxi driver.

“Over here. I put him over by the side door. I could see he was out on his feet. Besides, the front is full of all of those high school girls. When are you getting someone to help him? He’s about half dead.” Julie took good care of her regular customers. When Paul Gruber came in for a quick meal and a beer, she had put in the order, got him the beer and then she had placed a call across the street to Corrine. She was not letting Paul get behind the wheel in this condition.

“He’s management, so the head office can pretty much abuse him this way for as long as he wants to keep his job. They just don’t realize how badly things would go if he quit or collapsed. They have laid off so many people that we’re the only ones who know how things work. He’s been working almost sixteen-hour shifts for twelve days straight now.” Corrine and Julie looked down on Paul’s sleeping form. “So, he just about finished the beer and, it looks like, maybe two bites of his corn, and what? He just passed out?” Corrine looked fondly at her exhausted boss. Sleeping, he looked just like a little boy. It was not the first time that she had noticed that. Her maternal instincts were warring with some of her other biological imperatives. If he woke up when she got him home, maybe he would make a pass at her, and she could happily let him succeed? No. Afterward, he would regret losing control and that would wreck it. Damn it.

“Yeah. I brought the corn separately. I thought this might happen. I never even ordered his pot roast.” Julie looked more like a waitress from a roadside diner than this, somewhat fancy, bar and grill. She was forty-two, five foot three and more than a bit too heavy. Still, she had a nice face with a great smile, good table skills and a winning disposition. Her medium brown hair was worn up in a french braid.

After the third Confederacy pickup in two years at the grill, the owner had started hiring older looking women, who had also started bringing in a different type of client. He had lost too many waitresses, cooks, and most importantly, clients, to stay in business as it was previously. In the past year though, he had come back from the brink. The new clientele still hoped for a pickup, but they themselves were less likely to attract one. The replicators in the back helped cut down on costs, but now he also had to have two menus, as some people would not eat replicated food. He also got to charge more for the ‘real’ food, but in exchange, it actually cost more than before, since he was buying in smaller lots from different suppliers, many of his previous suppliers having gone out of business. Of course, the replicator also needed someone working it full time, as it could only produce so much material per hour. He had been pleased and surprised to find that he could hire some rather ‘slow’ people from the local mental health agency’s client list for a decent wage. He got a tax break, and got his work done at a consistently high production rate. The night workers made batches of rolls, vegetables, raw materials and salads. The day shift handled the more complicated items and the actual cooking.

“What’s with all those kids out front anyway?” Corrine looked back to the front. “This place doesn’t normally attract the young crowd.”

“Passing through, I guess. They’re some kind of high school drill team. Their school bus is around back,” Corrine said, stepping around to Paul’s far side. “Let’s see if we can wake him.”

“Paul. Wake up! Paul?” There was no response, and Corrine made a raspberry in frustration.

Julie slipped down to Paul’s right ear and said in a low voice, “Paul. Corrine is here for you. Paul. Paul! She’s naked!” Julie grinned as she sang the last bit into his ear.

“Julie!” Corrine gasped in shock.

“Don’t worry, he didn’t even hear me,” Julie sighed, “but tell me you wouldn’t jump him if you got the chance. I sure would.”

Corrine was waving her hands as she was trying to shush Julie. “He might hear you!” she whispered.

Julie leered at her. “Don’t worry, I’d share. With the right girl, that is.” Outside a cloud covered the sun and the light changed near the windows. Julie looked up, then over at something past Corrine’s shoulder. “Oh, no. The boss is going to be so mad.”

A loud voice behind Julie put a shiver down her spine as she heard the words. “May I have your attention, please? I am Sergeant MacGuinness of the Confederacy Marines and this is a pickup.” _____

After getting the customers disarmed and the non-participating people separated out, the Marines asked for the volunteers. That was when Corporal Klein came upon Julie and Corrine trying to get Paul’s wallet out of his pocket. “Rolling a drunk?”

Both women stood up instantly, and fiercely defended their charge.

“He’s exhausted!” said Corrine. “He’s been doing the work of three men at work, and working the hours of two.”

“And he only had half of one beer,” said Julie. “But he’s so beat, it put him right out. Corrine was going to drive him home. We think he’s probably a volunteer, and we don’t want him to miss his chance.”

“He is. I can read the card in his back pocket. He gets four. We’ll take him, but he doesn’t get any concubines unless he wakes up and chooses them.”

“Four?” Julie and Corrine looked at each other and then at Paul. “Corrine, get those perky tits out. I know how to get him up.” Julie stepped out of her shoes, reached down under her skirt and squatted to pull off her panty hose. She reached into the pocket of her apron, pulled out her CAP card and slapped it down onto the table. Then she put one hand on Paul’s shoulder for balance, while she slipped another hand back down under her skirt. Her hand began a rhythmic motion and she soon began making a few small mewling noises.

Corrine was shocked at the sight of Julie masturbating in public. She had her blouse unbuttoned and she had slipped her bra off with that move that women seem to be able to do even when they are not double jointed. Her full breasts were visible to a close observer and the thought of letting Paul have a look at them was perking her nipples up. “Okay.”

“Shove ... umm, this’s starting to feel nice ... Shove them into his face. Let him smell your skin.” Julie stopped stroking and pulled her moistly reeking fingers out. She let Corrine step up close to Paul. The Marine helpfully pulled Paul’s chair back, away from the table, allowing them more room to work. While Corrine wrapped her cleavage around Paul’s face and neck, Julie quickly ran her fingers across his upper lip and nose. Then for good measure, she slathered the remaining moisture into Corrine’s cleavage and across one nipple. When Corrine tried to recoil, Julie ruthlessly shoved her back, pressing Corrine’s breasts against Paul’s face. “Wake him up! This is not the time to be a prude. You want him, not one of those bankers out front, right?” She grabbed Corrine’s blouse by the top and peeled it back, off of her shoulders and all the way down to her waist. Corrine pulled her arms from the sleeves and then she hugged him to her breasts.

Paul took a few breaths of perfume, wet pussy and female skin scents before his eyes fluttered. He barely felt it when Julie unzipped him and tried to fish his penis out of his pants. “Whaazz? Cori?” What little focusing his eyes were doing seemed to be focusing on her breastbone. Still, his tongue woke up enough to take a swipe at the swelling of flesh in front of him.

Corrine gave a little peep of surprise as the tongue licked across her left breast. “Paul. You have to wake up. It’s a pickup. Julie and I need you to get up.”

Julie leaned in past Corrine’s hip but, because of their position, his pants, and the briefs that he was wearing, all she could do was manage to get to where her hand could massage him.

“Pi’up?” He was nuzzling into Corrine’s cleavage and in response, she was leaning closer to him to give him more access.

“Yes, Paul. It’s a pickup. You need to decide whom to take. Julie and I have agreed to share.” She heard Julie give a little chuckle. “Please wake up.”