December 18th 2:18 a.m.

“How much longer?” Simon asked.

Hector looked at his watch. “T-minus six minutes.”

Tracking our thirty-minute lunch break was an extreme sport.

Mary joined us, her recent nap still clinging to her posture. “Six minutes? I still haven’t eaten.”

“Hey, that reminds me,” Oscar piped up, “our mamá says you’re all invited to dinner this weekend.”

“Mmm, I love Rosa's chili verde,” Mary gushed with fatigued enthusiasm.

“The lime roasted turkey she cooked on Thanksgiving was amazing,” I chimed in, hungry just thinking about it.

I’d had the pleasure of meeting the twins’ mom a few weeks prior when they convinced me to join them for the holiday. I was an easy sell; I liked them and I didn’t have anywhere else to be. The group invited me for their bi-weekly dinners every other Saturday since, the twin’s tiny home filled to the brim with family and friends, always a chaotic, cozy affair with a plate of hot food on your lap and a cold drink your hand.

“I’ll tell her that,” Oscar said. “It’ll make her smile."

"Yeah and then she’ll cook enough for an army and make us bring it to you," his brother added. Our laughter was interrupted by Harrison’s unmistakable footsteps, as if one could hear the predetermined disapproval in his direct stride.

“Well. Here you all are. Are we taking impromptu breaks now?”

The jovial atmosphere wilted around him.

“It’s lunchtime, Harrison,” Simon replied in his calm baritone.

“Oh.” Some of Harrison's tension dissipated. “Well. Good.”

The following silence was like a derailed train we all wanted off of, but Harrison was blocking the exit.

Simon pressed, “Something else?”

“… No. That'll be all.” 

His abrasive dismissal was obnoxiously on cue. My coworker’s exchange of disgust left them oblivious when our boss proceeded to glance at me over his shoulder, delivering a look that expected I follow.

Simon wasn't oblivious: When I noticed his attention, I stared back, our friends dispersing around us.

He knew.

When he cocked one eyebrow, I choked up worse than an asphyxiated slut, physically unable to speak–not that it mattered. Words evaded me completely. Simon took his eyes off of me, stood a moment, then left. I watched him go, my appetite to live going with him. I didn’t move for a very long moment. When I eventually did, I felt like I was underwater, trudging toward Harrison's office… 

Not bothering to knock, I slipped inside. My body was shoved against the door to close it.

"You're a bitch, you know that?" Harrison demanded.

"Believe it or not, I do.”

He growled at my answer, forcing his hands up my shirt to paw at my breasts. "So you blew me off on Thanksgiving to go with them?"

Shit.

"It wasn't like that."

"Liar."

"Jealousy doesn't become you, Harrison."

Enclosing a fist around my unkempt up-do, Harrison guided my knees to the floor and my mouth to his dick. Its familiar size and texture slid over my tongue, average enough I could fit it all in my esophagus without breaking a sweat; an act Harrison was greedy to witness.

"See how jealous Simon will be with my cock down your throat," he gloated.

I kept my eyes on him like a good slut, but didn't bother to keep the irritation out of them. He didn't notice, fucking away at my face like an overeager schoolboy. He believed me indifferent to Simon, a notion surely derived from wearing rose-colored glasses. Correcting him, however, would not have served my best interest. I’d been gaining traction in my manipulation of Harrison: Simon wasn’t privy to my involvement in Mary’s extra day off the previous week, or the twins’ vacation approval two weeks before that.

Harrison liked me and I was using it to benefit my new friends. My only friends.

While Harrison released his frustrations on me, I slid a hand down my pants and between my legs, rubbing my damp panties. As much as I hated my boss, I liked the way he used me.

“God damn, you love that, don’t you?” he accused. 

I hummed around him, causing him to pause at the end of a deep stroke.

“Fuuuck yes,” Harrison groaned. I hated that I enjoyed it so much; the pressure of his tip against my uvula, the sound of his approval.

“Shit, you’re so dirty, you’re gonna make me come.”

He always said some variation of this when on the verge–a feat that was anything but, usually culminating in four minutes or less.

Wrapping my fingers around his base, I began to stroke as I sucked. My motion was rhythmic; wrist twisting, tongue rolling. His breath grew short, his thrusts slowing, reluctant to my intensity on his sensitivity.

“Geezus,” he choked.

During the silence that followed his sharp inhale, Simon crossed my mind.

When Harrison moaned, the pressure of his orgasm releasing directly down my throat, I came as well, though not with him. 

December 18th 7:27 a.m. -

I waited in the women’s restroom, hoping to postpone my exit long enough that Mary and the twins would be gone. And Simon, too… Nearly thirty minutes after shift-end, I snuck my way to the back of the store with the intention to head straight home. Carefully shutting the side door and turning for the parking lot, I was startled when I found Simon waiting on my other side. He was without an ounce of his usual diplomacy, arms crossed, brow unemotional.

“Avoiding me?”

Hand over my thrumming heart, I took him in. If unamused had a face… 

“No.”

“Oh, that’s a relief.” His dry sarcasm bluntly challenged my obvious lie. I swallowed. He softened. “Come on.”

“But-”

“I want you to come with me, Ada,” he interrupted. “Do you want to?” This was the angriest I’d ever seen him, though he seemed more disappointed than anything.

My answer was a nod. Simon led me through the frosted lot, put me in his car, and drove me to his house. Neither of us spoke the entire ride. I was silent as I’d ever been, following his tense stature to the front door where he ushered me to enter. The heavy curtains were drawn, his territory perpetual night.

The moment the door was shut, Simon pinned me to the wall, claiming my mouth with his. My shock was evident: I didn’t know we’d be speaking my language for this conversation. I wasn’t sure why he brought me here at all, curious why he didn’t shout at me about fucking our enormous asshole of a boss behind his back before leaving me at the store. You know, like a normal person.

Far from pushing me away, Simon took me, kissing me hard enough to bruise my lips. I gushed. We fucked, yet infrequently; the result of mutual concessions upon realizing our opposing views on how frequently to have sex while getting to know each other. If I had my way, he'd be mine every night, and we'd never talk at all.

The prickle of his beard on my face teased, his hot breath in my mouth. My guard was high, still wondering his intention, but my desire was quickly rising higher. It wouldn't have been the first time I ditched dignity for gratification… 

Simon maneuvered his way between my labyrinth of layered winter clothes, slid his coarse palm over my abdomen and down my pants, his contact with my clit bringing me to life.

"Yes!" I screamed.

Despite my reaction, Simon proceeded slowly, rolling my already wet pearl between his fingers. I clawed at his coat, vocalized my approval as he took care to rub and gently tug my inner labia.

"Simon," I gasped when he teasingly flicked my clit. "Please, more!" Taking his forearm, I forced his hand further to appease the ache in my center, his pace much too slow for my liking.

"Fuck," he grunted, pushing inside. His touch was vinegar on an alkaline burn, the relief as intense as the need.

"Yesss, please don't stop." I used my best persuasive voice as I ground myself onto his hand. The way he responded emulated our relationship thus far; long and leisure and full of sexual tension. I didn't hide my impatience.

Simon leveled his eyes with mine.

"Ada?"

"Yes?"

"Why do you need it rough all the time?"

My breath stopped for a moment. His fingers inside me continued casually as he patiently awaited my reply.

"… What do you mean?"

"Every time we fool around, you’re restless," Simon pointed out. When it was obvious I was stumped, he leaned into me and husked; “You always ask for my cock deep and hard. You’re always on your knees for me, always needing me to just ruin you.”

I moaned, his attention on my g-spot pairing nicely with his words.

“Why do you like to be treated like a slut, Ada?” His words were an aphrodisiac, I didn’t even hear the question. “Is it the same reason you’re hooking up with Harrison?”

I heard that question.

My lungs seized up once more as Simon absorbed all my guilt and fear. He continued to finger me.

"If going slow is so important to you, why’d you let me suck your cock the first time we were alone?" I changed the subject entirely, to a question that would satisfy my own curiosity.

The memory flickered in his gaze. 

"Find me someone who can resist the sight of you on your knees, I dare you." Sarcasm lite. "Of course I wanted you, Ada."

“If you wanted me, you’d take me,” I challenged, referring to his constant restraint with me.

“I want to get to know you."

“What if I’d rather you just fuck me?” I argued.

“And what if I want to make love to you?” he snapped back.

I didn’t have a quip for that one.

"What would you do? If I wanted to be intimate with you? Really intimate? You communicate through sex, that’s abundantly clear,” Simon stated, my flaws under his microscope pronounced so practically. “Yet every time we fuck, you're still holding back. I have no problem treating you like a slut, love. I do have a problem when that’s the only way you’ll allow me to treat you.”

I didn’t know what to say, my chest heaving. Simon nudged my nose with his as he began to tenderly massage my sweet spot once more.

“I want more than just your body, Ada,” he mumbled, leaning down to give me a chaste kiss. “You’re always so quick to lose yourself. Stay with me. Let me appreciate you.”

My eyelids fluttered shut on his last whisper.

Simon took my earlobe between his teeth, the tip of his tongue tracing its curve. When I sighed, he licked down my neck, tasting my freckles while palming my sex. Everything dwindled to only his breath, his lips, his long fingers.

“Stay with me,” he sighed again. As he kissed further down I concentrated on doing just that.

Languidly, Simon undressed me. I fisted his beanie and tossed it, nails running through his dark hair as his mouth traced my exposed curves. On his knees, he slid off my last sock, rendering me completely naked. I watched his fingers slide between my slick petals, his listless caress of my clit. Guiding one of my thighs over his shoulder, Simon opened my inner lips with his thumbs, spreading them to reveal my pinkness. I looked on eagerly as he leaned in. Held my breath hostage as he inhaled me. He looked up, then delicately ran his tongue along my slit, soft as a whisper.

My moan cut through the silence.

Watching him savor my cunt with long licks and sweet sighs, my thoughts swirled with his accusations. Of course they were true. The only way I knew how to be intimate was to lose myself. Considering it now, I’d never thought of ‘sex’ and ‘tender’ as being synonymous. Not for me, not until this moment.

Simon rose to his feet, sharing the taste of my pussy with a deep kiss. T-shirt; belt buckle; obstacles obliviated in my search for his cock. When it was finally in my hand, he gasped. I stroked him, enamored by his rapt attention. Simon lifted me from the floor, held my bare body to his chest, and carefully lowered me onto his strained manhood. My jaw unhinged.

His blue eyes were electric as he slowly filled me, panting through full lips framed by his short black beard, my mark left in his unkempt hair. Shoulder blades to the wall for support, I leisurely rode him in return. He touched me everywhere; held my hips, palmed my breasts, stroked my thighs and ass as we moved.

Suddenly, the word ‘slow’ didn’t seem so terrible. I could feel every small nuance of our contact which only made it more pleasurable.

“Do you like this?” he asked, gently thrusting up every time I dropped my hips.

I nodded immediately.

“You like me making love to you, Ada?”

“Yes,” I whispered.

“Only me?”

“Yes,” I exhaled desperately.

Simon reached up and wrapped a hand around the front of my neck while sliding a finger into my ass. A burst of endorphins ran through me, inner muscles hugging his cock.

“Ride me like this until you come,” he directed.

My eyes rolled. Firm grip around my throat, Simon fucked me even slower, holding me down on him between each thrust while playing with my ass. The slower he moved, the more I was made to focus on every inch of his cock, our angle allowing him to reach unbelievably far inside me. Holding me against the wall, his timed thrusts gradually grew stronger.

It was fucking spectacular.

Finally releasing my neck, I sucked in an enormous breath as Simon took my nipple in his mouth, bit it hard, and slammed deep inside me. The combined sensation was my epitome of nirvana.

“Simon!”

“Come for me, love,” he urged breathlessly.

I felt it build, energy accumulating in my center like it never had before, atomic particles vastly multiplying until they burst from their threshold. Possessed by an altering orgasm, I rode him hard as I came, every frantic movement encouraged by his increasing pace. When he quickly pulled his finger from my ass I, somehow, spiked.

It was the best moment of climax I'd ever had, completely connected to Simon as he filled me in more ways than one.

“Oh yes, Ada--Fuck, just like that, baby,” he moaned before biting my other nipple.

I screamed, thrashed, swam in the greatest feeling to ever consume me.

Two realizations came to me as I re-entered the atmosphere: Tears were trailing from the corners of my eyes, and Simon hadn’t joined me.

Holding my limp body, he kissed the top of my head. “Don’t worry, I’m not done with you,” he said as he pulled me off the wall and carried me upstairs.

December 18th 11:04 a.m. -

“I know Mary told you,” Simon whispered as his fingers traced my suddenly tense hip. “It’s okay, I told her she could.” I relaxed. “Saves me from having to say it…”

I turned onto my back, tangling myself further into his bedsheet. His eyes were round as I reached up to touch his black-bearded face. Losing your entire family all at once is hard. I should know… 

“My parents died,” I blurted. The sudden reveal caught Simon off guard as much as myself. Too late to turn back, I continued; “And my sister. In an accident. Eight months ago.”

Simon took on some of my pain, face twisting with empathy. The relief that accompanied my acknowledgment was unexpected: This was the first time I’d ever said it aloud to anyone.

“I lied to you,” I continued to promptly confess, “when you asked me why I kept coming back and I told you I needed this job.” He waited when I paused. “I lived a very different lifestyle when my family was alive. A very charmed one,” I was ashamed to admit. “I inherited everything but… when I found myself alone I just didn't care about the money anymore. Unless it was to help me forget…”

I didn’t detail the partying with alcohol or drugs, or the string of men with unquenchable appetites in the wake of my family's accident. Or the fact that I’d been driving during the accident… Something told me it was written all over my face anyway.

“I’d never had a real job,” I added quietly, “before the Foodway. And at first, I thought that place needed me.” I laughed a little. “I think I needed it more.”

Simon understood; touched my chin with his hand, my heart with his gaze. 

“I’m so sorry.” His whisper came from deep in his bones.

“… I’m sorry. About Harrison." And I was. Bits of me were pulling together, ready to make a quick escape if need be, but I had to say it. 

He looked at me a while, then shook his head and finally said; "I can't believe you fucked him."

"You seem mildly upset by the notion," I pointed out warily.

"I guess I'm assuming you won't be sharing yourself with him any longer…?" Simon making love to me was his offer of exclusivity, and I understood that.

"Never again," I vowed.

Simon nodded, pulling me a little closer. "I was upset. Still am, I suppose. But your distaste for him is obvious, so whatever reasons you had–I don't care. As long as you're only a slut for me from now on."

I pulled him down and kissed him, pushed him onto his back and rode him reverse cowgirl like the slut I was.

December 18th 8:28 p.m. -

Simon and I had been in his bed for thirteen hours. He had to literally carry me out to get me to leave: The last thing I wanted to do was go to work. 

“It won’t be that bad,” he encouraged, setting me on my feet. Easy for him to say. I’d been putting off mentally preparing myself to deal with Harrison. Whatever emotional blowback our boss dealt would be inflicted on all of us. 

When Simon and I pulled into the parking lot, we waited in the warm cab until we saw Hector, Oscar, and Mary arrive. Gloves, hats, and scarves in check, we stepped out to meet them, walking together to the front of the store. Stopping before we could enter the building, we all fell silent; a most peculiar sight waiting. 

Standing still as ice in the December air, my colleagues and I read the enormous, colorful sign posted just beside the locked doors. The grocery store was dark inside, silenced behind words that read: FOR SALE.

Simon and I looked at each other, then back at the Foodway.

“What’s this mean?” Hector broke the reverence.

Simon let go of my hand, disappeared behind the side of the building to return a minute later with a somber expression.

“It means-” Simon stopped in front of us, “-that we don’t have jobs anymore.”

-Epilogue-

One Year Later - December 25th, 2:44 p.m.

When my friends and I found ourselves suddenly unemployed at nine in the evening a week before Christmas, we did what anyone would do; got ourselves a hot meal. Sat in a diner for hours, we laughed, cried, and detailed the torture we desired to inflict on our ex-boss. Harrison knew the store was closing. We deduced that fact the moment we tried to call him from the parking lot only to have it go straight to voicemail. Seeing the twins and Mary stress on how long they would be unemployed almost made me feel hopeless.

It took some time to iron out my plan, but the results made me certain it was the best thing I ever did with my money.

Simon and I walked hand-in-hand, the clean-cut residential street dressed for the holiday, lights lining every rooftop and illuminating the snow sculpted gardens. The large house waited at the end of the lane. When we knocked, the twin's mother greeted us, bright-eyed and prattling excitedly in Spanish. Hector and Oscar were behind her, and behind them, Mary and her daughters, every single one of them smiling as we joined them.

This was only my second Christmas with my new family, though I hoped it would be far from the last.