Chapter 6

My first order of business after getting Yaz and myself back from lunch was to call Sandy into my office. My office was a little small, but my desk was a beautiful antique, and the hardwood floors were covered by a persian area rug. I liked my little vestiges of comfort.

When she came in, I told her to sit in one of the curveback Bank of England wood chairs facing my desk. She sat, dutifully.

"Sandy," I said to her, "I've been reviewing your resume, and your performance."]

She nodded.

"You've been consistently on top," I said, "And you have a management background."

She nodded again.

"I am getting sick of either me or Yasmin being here all the time," I told her, "So I need a manager."

"I know a few-"

"Perhaps," I said, waving it away with a movement of my left hand, "But I was thinking you'd fill the position quite well."

"Indeed?" she asked.

Sandy was a large hispanic girl, with a degree of commanding authority that made her ideal for this job. The fact that she had taken charge automatically a few times was why I was offering it to her.

"Indeed."

"Ok, so what does that mean?" she asked.

"Well, first of all," I said, "You will open up the store or close the store depending on your hours. You get two days off a week. Do you have kids?"

"Not yet," she said.

"Ok," I replied, "Until you do, those two days can't be Saturday, Sunday, or Wednesday. You will be required to work a minimum of 40 hours a week, barring paid vacation, for which you will be paid $650, after taxes. For any additional hours, you'll be paid $22. You also get full benefits- health care, pension, 401(k) matching, and so on. You will be responsible for the store."

"Alright," she said that looking very ... worried?, "Any 'special' duties required of me?"

"Meaning what?" I said, incredulous.

"I won't do anything ... personal."

I threw my head back and laughed.

"My dear girl," I said, still laughing, "I am not that kind of man, and I am very happy in my current situation."

"Aren't you looking for a mother of that child you have bossing everybody around?" she asked.

I blinked.

"She has one," I told her, "She lives on the fourth floor of this building, apartment 2A."

"She keeps going home with you," Sandy replied.

"She's my best friend," I replied, "She often goes home with me to play or whatnot, or for help with stuff."

"Like school work?" she asked. Like an idiot, I jumped on that.

"Yes, of course, like school work," I replied.

"Then why doesn't she go to school?" Sandy asked.

"Uh," I said.

"You kidnapped her, didn't you?" She said.

"No, I-"

"YOU ARE A PERVERT!" she screamed.

The door opened, and she spun around to see a very, very angry Yasmin. Over the past year, Yaz had exploded in size. She now weighed about 150 lbs of 5'9" girl, and she was still growing. She also had the insanely heavy strength of a person who spent their time lifting heavy boxes. Sandy, with a her 5'3" frame, and weighing a tad more than Yaz, was no match.

Yaz stormed up to Sandy and ripped her out of the seat.

"Shut the FUCK up!" Yaz roared.

"Chill, Yaz," I said.

"She's going to get us in trouble, and take you away from me," she said, "Majdoube shlokeh!"

She had been teaching me a bit of Arabic, and I had been teaching her a bit of Yiddish. Calling my erstwhile new manager a stupid whore was not a wise move, and it made me somewhat angry at her.

"Yassmeen," I spat, "Par-machn den moyel ayadar aer zagen epes narif und machen lavel tzavrachen!!"

(Yasmin, shut your mouth before you say something stupid, and ruin our lives!)

She let Sandy down and looked at her feet, embarrassed.

"Yaz," I said, "Take her to your mom."

"Are you crazy?" she replied.

"Can you think of a better solution?" I asked.

She shook her head like I was out of my mind, but led her out of the room.

I sat there breathing heavy. If I had to, I guess I could figure out a way to take care of her, but I am not that far into violence. The increasing comfort of our life together was getting to the point where we took excessive risks.

About fifteen minutes later, Sandy kind of skulked back into my office.

"I'm sorry," she said.

"It's alright," I said, "Its not easy to understand. I have trouble with it from time to time. But as much as I can't understand it, I know there are only three things in life for certain. The earth goes round the sun, the politicians are stupid, and Yasmin loves me."

"I just don't get how a little girl like that can-"

"Don't be fooled by her appearance or her age," I said, "That girl is more mature than you are. We've been running this business together for years. She's been living with me practically since her father abused her. She's my wife, really."

"But," she said, "She's very young for you to be ... well, to be doing that for years, and-"

"Last night was the first night we even came close to doing something like that," I said, "We snuggle, but that's about it. The emotions there, the physical connection doesn't have to be."

"I guess," she said.

"You understand that you are not supposed to tell anybody about this?"

"Yes," she said.

"Ok, then," I said, "Now to clarify. I'm the President of this crazy corporation. Yaz is the vice president. You are the manager in charge of this store. Get the hierarchy?"

"Yes," she nodded.

"Yaz and I are going out to dinner. You are in charge."

She smiled, got up, and started to head out to the sales floor, when Yaz burst through the door and tackled me crying. I held her.

"I'm sorry," she said, "I was just so scared I was going to lose you."

"Don't worry," I said, "I would never let that happen."

Sandy saw the love between us. I think for the first time, she actually believed it.

Yaz and I got into our car, and we drove to Adamstown, where we ate at a highly recomended place called Stoudt's Black Angus, a steakhouse attached to the famous and justifiably celebrated Stoudt's Brewery.

We had some fantastic steaks, enjoyed some fantastic beer. Then we drove down the street to the equally famous Boehringers Drive-In in Adamstown. The food is just ok, but their home-made ice cream should be a must-have-before-I-die item. We had exceptional ice cream sitting on benches overlooking the ducks swimming in the tranquil but boringly named "Little Muddy Creek".

Then we got back on U.S. 222 and headed back home.

After the lovely evening, I was half hoping that Yaz would be a little to tired to do what I had promised her we'd do. She wasn't. Dear god she wasn't.

As soon as I got her in the front door, she jumped up into my arms and insisted that I carry her up the stairs. I carried her up the beautiful wooden stairs, and into our bedroom, where I laid her down on the bed.

"Undress me," she commanded.

I untied her shoes and took them off her feet, and started tickling her through her socks. She jerked around laughing, uncontrolledly.

"Please, this is torture!" she squealed.

"It's supposed to be," I told her, "You have to pay for the right for me to love you!"

I pulled off her socks and kept tickling her. She started screaming and trying to get away from my fingers attention. After a while, when she was just on the bed panting and shuddering, I unbuttoned her jeans, and slowly slid them off, intentionally increasing her anticipation.

Her panties, simple pink print cotton, were soaked. I gently and slowly ran my fingers up and down her legs, first on the outside, but slowly working my way around so that I was running my finger up and down her inner thigh. She spread her legs a little to give me better access. I could sense my touch sending shivers up and down her spine.

Then I stopped an grabbed her hands and sat her up into a long and languishing kiss. I played with her tongue for what seemed like hours, her arms around me feeling absolutely wonderful.

Then I took off her t-shirt, and started gently licking and playing with her belly and the chest and neck area above her bra. The girl was going absolutely nuts. And frankly, I was enjoying it, too. Then I yanked off her bra, and started licking her nipples and breasts.