Career Opportunities

I knew that Sarah was probably working that evening, so I’d have to call her now to catch her. But did I want to catch her?

We hadn’t talked since yesterday. The last thing she did was literally push me out the door after we had sex.

Well, whatever. I picked up the phone and dialed her number as I had a hundred times before. Her mom answered.

“Oh yes,” she said, her Irish accent nearly too thick for me to understand. “I’ll just nip off and get her.”

Sarah answered with a monotone “hello”, immediately pissing me off. She fucking knew it was me, who else would be calling her?

“You called?”

“Mmm hmm, I said I’d call you today when you left yesterday.”

“Right.”

“How was your day?”

“Good, I saw Renee.”

“You did? Where?”

“I met her at the mall. She’s helping me get a job at one of her dad’s businesses.”

Silence.

“You’re looking for a job now.”

“Uh, yeah.”

“When are you going to start working?”

“I don’t know, soon?”

More silence.

“So you won’t be around during the day? I thought you were going to wait for a while to get a job.”

Ah. She was pissed.

“Well, I need to start working to pay for school.”

“I know,” her voice crackled over the receiver.

“Are you pissed at me?”

“No.”

She was absolutely pissed at me.

“Are you mad about yesterday,” she asked.

“Why would I be mad about yesterday?”

“I don’t know, I’m just asking.”

“Well I’m not.”

“Okay.”

This was so Sarah. We desperately needed to talk about it, but she was just completely skirting the whole issue. And I certainly wasn’t going to say anything.

“All right then,” I said hastily.

“I’ll let you go.”

“Did you want to get together tomorrow?”

“Fine,” she snapped

“When?”

“I’ll be home all morning, come over whenever you feel like it.”

“Okay, I will.”

“Fine.”

“See you tomorrow.”

“Bye.”

“Bye.”

Well, that went well.

This is probably a good time to take a deep breath and talk about where I lived.

Victoria, British Columbia, is a little town on the southern tip of Vancouver Island. The only way to get there is via ferry, either from Tsawwassen on the mainland, or from Port Angeles or Anacortes Washington.

You can also fly there, of course. There’s an airport, float planes, and at the time even helicopter service. I used to watch them zipping past overhead, low over the treelines, wondering which rich people were onboard.

For some reason that I never bother learning about, Victoria has a British feel to it. I assume it’s just because there are a lot of UK and Ireland expatriates - you can’t throw a rock in Victoria without hitting someone with an accent. But there are double decker buses that drive tourists around, British style sweet shops, British pubs, British Fish and Chip shops.

The island has a special feeling to it that I can’t describe– people that live on the island will know what I’m talking about. There’s a feeling of isolation but connection at the same time. The islands attracts free-spirited people, and there is a definite theme of free-spiritedness in the local businesses, events, and nightlife.

I lived with my parents in Gordon Head, and while it’s an expensive place now it was just your average neighborhood in the 80’s and 90’s. The houses are a mix of suburban homes built in the 50’s, 60’s, and 70’s, and my house was no different.

Sarah lived a short distance away in a ritzier neighborhood named after Cadboro Bay. Today it’s where the millionaires and billionaires live, but back then it was just your normal upper class.

The eagle-eyed among you will notice in the last chapter that I said Sarah lived on top of a hill when in fact Cadboro Bay is downhill from Gordon Head. Well-spotted. You get a point. My attempt at obfuscation to protect the innocent has been foiled.

Sarah’s dad was a provincial government bigwig and her mom had a shop downtown. They were upper-middle class. Me and my family were firmly middle class. Not that it mattered, but it’s why Sarah was more reserved, posh, and yes I’m saying it again - boring - than I am.

Anyway.

The next morning I took my time heading to Sarah’s place, getting out the door around 10. It was a twenty minute walk, and I wasn’t in a hurry given that she was probably going to bitch at me about looking for a job.

It was a super nice day, just a few tufts of clouds in the sky. The air was cool, and a light sea breeze blew off Cadboro Bay. As I walked down the hill past the University, the bay appeared in all its glory, its green-blue water like a sheet of glass reflecting the morning sun.

I headed left at the four-way stop in front of the little store, and five minutes later I was at Sarah’s door. She answered, arms crossed, not happy.

Great.

She invited me in, and five minutes later we were naked in her bed, entwined in a 69 with me on top. Once again my face was in her beautiful, sexy, strawberry-blonde muff. Her pussy was soaking wet, dripping down the inside of her thighs, a spot forming at the spot her ass cheeks met.

Sarah slipped a finger in me, sliding it in and out, as her magic tongue, slick and warm, pulsed over my hood. I could feel I was positively gushing with wetness, I hoped it wasn’t too much for her.

I felt her pull gently on my hood, and my insides jumped with every flick of her tongue over my swollen little clit. It was very distracting, but I did my best to keep my tongue slipping and sliding over her hood before I pulled it back and went to town on her clit.

“Fuck yes, Mel,” she moaned. “Right there...”

I reached under her thigh with my other hand and slipped my middle finger into her slick pussy, fucking her with more intensity now. Her legs stiffened, hips bucking as she came, her tongue going crazy on my clit.

I put both hands on her ass and sucked her pussy into my mouth as I came, unable to contain the scream emerging out my nose as every nerve fired and every muscle in my loins contracted.

It was satisfying. So satisfying.

I climbed off her, then turned around and crawled on all fours to lie on top of her. She held me tightly as we kissed, tongues slipping and sliding.

Then, I flopped on my back beside her, gasping. I put a hand on my tummy as it fluttered, waiting to catch my breath.

“Are you mad at me,” I gasped.

“No,” she gasped. “But why are you looking for a job so soon.”

“I was feeling bored and lonely when I got home yesterday.”

“Oh.”

Then we were quiet, and I regretted telling her the truth. But if I’m being honest, I did feel like she just kicked me out on the street after we had sex. I wanted to cuddle. Kiss. Make out. Girlfriend stuff.

I rolled over on my side, and Sarah stared at the ceiling. I propped my head on my hand, and stroked her tummy with the other. She was so gorgeous, I just wanted to touch and feel every part of her.

I became aware of a heavy feeling in my chest. Like a lump, hanging in my rib cage. A ball of words that needed to come out, but I lacked the courage to say.

A big glob of unresolved goo.

I willed Sarah to look over at me and ask me to be her girlfriend. I used all my mental energy to control the universe and make the atoms in her vocal chords vibrate and say the words.

But to no effect.

“I didn’t mean for you to leave so soon yesterday,” she finally said, looking over to me. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

I absently slid my hand down to her muff and ran my fingers through her pubes, combing them straight and patting them down.

“Mel,” she whispered, and my heart jumped.

I quickly looked up at her.

“What?”

She paused.

“Cuddle with me.”

I climbed on top of her again and put my head on her chest between her boobs. She wrapped her legs around my calves, her hands on my ass. A finger drifted down to my butthole, teasing it.

I was beginning to realize that despite her reserved and, yeah - boring - exterior, she had a little hidden adventurous streak when it came to sex.

But as we laid there, my head on her chest, listening to the steady thump thump thump of her heart, I decided I was just going to have to be happy with whatever I could get. For now, I was getting cuddles. And my butthole played with. And that was okay.

There was, however, at least one thing I felt like we could talk about.

“Sarah,” I whispered.

“Mmmm?”

“You had a crush on me?”

Silence.

I lifted my head to look her in the eyes. She just stared back, a demure grin on her lips. Sarah’s eyes are the most beautiful ice blue, and they gleamed like sapphires under her delicate eyebrows, strawberry blonde as every other strand of hair on her body.

“Tell me,” I insisted.

More silence, more demure grinning.

I gave up and put my head back down on her chest. The thump thump thump of her heart was quicker now.

Great, I thought, I’m pissing her off.

Sarah’s fingers threaded through the short hair on the back of my head, massaging my scalp.

“But you like me, right,” I whispered.

“Of course I do.”

Finally. Some sort of answer.

“But, ‘like’ like?”

Her chest rose with a sigh.

“It’s okay, you don’t have to answer.”

Her fingers played with my hair, twisting the ends together. The pounding of her heart increased.

“Yes, Mel. “Like” like.”

A warm feeling started in my toes and spread upwards through my body, culminating in all the hairs on the back of my neck standing on end. Sarah’s fingers paused, then delicately hovered, brushing over them as they relaxed and laid back down.

I decided to not press any further, and laid for a bit, enjoying the sensuous curve of Sarah’s tit. I put up a hand to squeeze it, teasing her nipple with the tip of my finger until it was stiff. I absently flicked it, watching it tip over and stand back up, rigid.

I got up and Sarah locked eyes with me as I leaned and put my mouth on her other nipple, my loins warming with wetness as it firmed up under my tongue. Sarah’s hands draped over my neck as I kissed and sucked, a wonderful, sexy moan rewarding my effort.

I sat up and turned, scissoring my legs between Sarah’s. I flexed my calves a little for leverage and pressed my pussy against hers, drinking in the warmth and wetness.

Yesterday when we had done this it had just been a blur.

This time, I wanted to feel every little bit of her.

Her hands wrapped around my waist to pull me forward, and I took the lead, gyrating my hips to gently slip against her. Sarah responded by tilting her pelvis, and I felt the delicate folds of her labia slipping and sliding over mine.

Sarah leaned in and pressed her mouth against mine, her tongue warm and slick, delicately probing. Then she shifted positions, her hood insistently thrusting against mine, and as I reached down to pull it up to expose my swollen clit Sarah did the same.

Our tongues thrashed as we aggressively yet gently rubbed our hot little buttons against one another, and a cute sexy squeak emerged from Sarah as she came.

I tried not to, but I couldn’t help it. I giggled.

“Shut up, goof,” Sarah whispered as her head fell on my chest.

She pushed me down on the bed and fell between my splayed legs, her finger quickly fucking me as her tongue worked its magic. I held her head with both hands as my hips bucked, the intensity of my orgasm curling my toes with little pops as they cracked.

She dropped on the bed beside me, and again we laid side by side, panting in post-orgasmic bliss.

As I laid there, watching Sarah’s tummy rise and fall, her beautiful muff disappearing and reappearing, I could scarcely believe how much had happened in just two days.

I had gone from no sex to sex maniac in 48 hours. Not thinking about sex at all to being incapable of thinking of anything else. From no physical contact with another human to wanting to touch and explore every inch of her body, wanting to consume her very essence.

Weird, right? I guess life can be really fucking weird sometimes.

For the next few days, Sarah had been rescheduled to the day shift so her fury at me for not being available was misplaced. It was fine though, because a couple of days later I got a call from Barb, the chain-smoking food court lizard that managed the bakery and coffee shop telling me I got the job.

There was no uniform, but there was a set of food-service clothes I had to buy from the food-service-clothes store downtown. My Mom drove me down there and the guy behind the counter knew exactly what I needed.

“I don’t know if we have a size small enough for you!” he laughed.

Yeah, hilarious.

On my first day, I arrived and there was no one there. It was early, and the food court was mostly empty so I leaned against the counter waiting for someone to show up.

As I was beginning to wonder if I should just leave, I heard a commotion at the far end of the mall near the Toys ‘R Us. I squinted to see what was going on, and saw the bubble-headed bleach blonde bimbo from the other day scrambling through the doors, dropping her purse, jamming the scattered contents back into it, picking it back up, rushing through the tables, hitting her bag on the edge of a seat, and finally speed walking up to me wearing the same food service black pants and white polo shirt as I was.

“Fuck me,” she gasped, her tan foundation rising from her pock-marked cheeks on tiny beads of sweat. “Fucking Barb isn’t here yet, is she?”

“No one’s here yet.”

“Thank fucking god. Phew.”

“Um, hello? I’m Mel,” I said quietly, extending a hand.

She stared down at my hand and then up at me with a confused look.

“Oh yeah, you were here the other day with the boss’s kid.”

She looked me up and down with a sneer. I dropped my hand back to my side.

“Jennifer. My friends call me Jen.”

She reached in her purse and pulled out a crumpled up kleenex, then dabbed it on her face.

“My fucking makeup, oh my god,” she wailed as she looked at the brown stain on the paper.

She rifled in her bag for an even smaller makeup bag and headed for the washrooms.

“Hey,” she said, stopping in her tracks and turning back to me. “If Barb shows up make sure you tell her I’m already here.”

“Okay.”

Well, this was going to be a lot of fucking fun.

Barb did show up while “Jen” was in the bathroom, and she shuffled her smokey old bones past me as she flipped up the hinged part of the counter so we could pass through.

She laboriously rummaged through her huge nasty purse and produced a huge key ring with a million keys on it. She flipped through them until she found a candidate and jiggled it in the lock. It only took her five tries to find the right one.

The office was tiny, barely bigger than a closet. Her table and chair were stolen from the food court and jammed in the corner. Piles of paper rose from its surface in tall imbalanced piles like an illustration out of a Dr. Seuss book about poorly managed small businesses.

Silently she rifled through the papers until she found the ones she was looking for and thrust them at me.

“Go fill those out and bring them back,” she croaked.

As I turned to leave, Jen arrived at the doorway with her foundation re-spackled and flawless.

Barb looked up with a scowl.

“You’re late.”

Jen gave me a bitchy look.

“Didn’t, um, uh ... she tell you I was already here?”

“Why would she tell me that? She’s only been here five minutes.”

“Because,” said Jen, giving me a look, “I asked her to.”

“Well you were supposed to be here,” said Barb, pointing down at the floor, her chipped acrylic fingernail barely hanging on. “Not wherever you were.”

“Fine.”

“Go get set up. And when she’s done with her papers, start training her.”

Jen’s scowl turned to a bitchy grin.

“Sure.”

The paperwork was standard employment stuff: a tax form, and signing up for employment insurance and Canada Pension Plan. I double checked everything but it only took five minutes.

When I returned to the office, Barb thrust out her hand and I placed the papers in her cigarette-yellowed talons. Without looking up from the table, she tossed them on the leaning tower of papers and resumed scribbling madly on a form, steadfastly ignoring me.

Okay then.

Jen was bent over with her ass in the air, and when I looked past her she was gathering up bags of frozen baked goods from an under-counter freezer. She righted herself and turned around, then dropped the bags with a yelp.

“Fuck, you fucking startled me!”

“Sorry!”

I bent over to help her pick up the bags and our heads collided.

“Ow, fuck! What’s wrong with you?”

“Sorry!”

“Jesus! Just stand there.”

Yay! Fifteen minutes in and my new job was already GREAT. Just fucking GREAT.

Jennifer appeared to be in her early to mid twenties. Her hair was long and fake blonde, her brunette roots beginning to show. It was parted to the side so it perpetually hung in her face. And as much as I hate to admit it, she was conventionally pretty with very delicate features, blue eyes, and perfectly straight gleaming white teeth.

She also had a perfectly proportioned figure, her huge boobs matching the width of her hips exactly. And even though we were both wearing the same food-service white polo shirt, hers was drawn tight across the chest, her cleavage clearly visible because the one button at the collar had “mysteriously” fallen off and it opened all the way down to the top of her bra.

Thankfully the rest of the day went quite smoothly once the initial comedy of errors had played out.

“Okay, this shit is easy, anyone can do it,” she instructed. “See here? Frozen crap. See here? Oven. Put the frozen crap in the oven. Turn it on. Don’t burn it. Put it in the case. The customer points at it. We give it to them. They give us money. They eat it. Laughing at the way they eat is optional, but I like to throw it in there.”

She snorted a mirthless laugh.

“Okay,” she continued. “Coffee. See here? Bags of coffee. Rip open the bag. See here? Filter. Put the filter here. Put the coffee in the filter. Push the button. Make sure the thing is under the little hole. When it beeps, put the thing back in the thing. Close the lid. The customer asks for coffee. Get a cup. Press the button until it’s full. Put a lid on it. Give it to the customer. Take their money.”