November 21st 8:44 p.m.

Saturday night, I stepped off the bus into gently falling snow, surrounded by silence once the transit hissed, groaned, and pulled away. The Foodway’s sign lit the surrounding fog that swirled beneath the low hugging clouds. A floating red dot in my peripheral made me turn.

Smoking a cigarette, Simon blended into the darkness beyond the streetlight; black clothes, black beard, what I assumed was black hair under his black knit beanie. I'd never seen him without a hat. His eyes were intent on me, cherry glowing as he took a drag.

“Looks like I won that bet.” His deep voice filled the space between us.

“I get half of that twenty, I assume?” I replied in jest.

“I’m surprised.”

“Why?”

“Because working here is terrible, obviously. That’s why Oscar bet you’d quit when you learned that.”

“I just really wanted that ten dollars.”

Simon took another drag of his cigarette, too focused on me to be amused. “What makes you keep coming back?”

I shrugged. “I need a job.”

He considered his response so long I wondered if he knew I was lying.

“… It’s been Mary, Oscar, Hector, and myself on the night shift for the last year. When Ron quit in January, we tried to replace him. We’ve gone through six candidates since then. There’s long hours, the pay sucks, and Harrison doesn’t do anything but micromanage, as you’ve learned by now. So.” He flicked his spent cig and pushed off the wall. “Why this place?”

“I could ask you the same.” His reply was a statue imitation. When made clear he wouldn't speak, I capitulated; “I saw the way each of you warned me to stay away and… I want to help. There’s something about this place.” I glanced at the quiet Foodway before turning back and adding, “Also, I’d like to finish what we started."

His eyes came alive. Walking forward, Simon stopped an inch from the zipper on my winter coat. He took in the state of my unkempt hair tossed in its signature messy bun, then settled on my face.

“You know, I think I like you," he mumbled.

“That’s a relief.” My sarcasm stirred the humor in his normally serious face. Reaching up, he carefully brushed my cheekbone; the same way he did when his cock was filling my throat. His fingertips were warm against my chilled skin.

“I don’t usually like people. Not like this, anyway.”

"Misanthropic, then? Or just broody?"

He actually smiled. A row of neat, sexy teeth. I liked it so much, I reached out, sliding my hand into the opening of his coat, around his waist. He wasn't shy to return the gesture, guiding me closer with a hand on my back–but stopped before our lips could touch.

“Do you think we should take this slow?”

I didn’t know what to say for a moment. His dick was down my throat twenty-seven hours after we met. It was so good, I relieved myself to the thought of it all week, rubbing my clit as I wondered if he’d gone home to stroke himself after we were interrupted. We’d been playing it cool since, and finding him waiting for me brought my frustrations to a head. This wasn’t the ambush I was hoping for.

“… Slow?” I reiterated. The very last word I wanted to hear.

His next smile made my pussy salivate. “Just because I want to take it slow doesn’t mean I don’t want you. Waiting isn’t such a bad thing." He leaned closer. "And believe it or not, I would like to get to know you.”

Coming to the balls of my feet, I pressed my mouth to his. Simon received me, holding me tightly as he molded his mouth to mine.

Afterward, I wondered if it was my impatience at our proximity or my fear of his words that made me act… 

November 22nd 12:18 a.m.

"Yes… fuck, yes! Ohh god."

I humped my fingers, one foot in the corner where the partition met the wall, one foot on the floor. I sat in the dim corner of the women’s restroom with a hand down my pants as I brought myself to orgasm, my tender clit protesting as I rubbed it, though I couldn’t stop.

After kissing me, Simon walked me into the store then simply smiled before parting ways. I had to spend the first few hours of my shift with Mary pretending like I wasn’t in dire need of a good fuck. Taking the excuse of my first break, I slipped to the restroom and locked the door to get myself off.

Still not nearly satisfied, I chased my dwindling climax, sliding my middle finger into my pussy and bucking my hips. I hummed and sucked my bottom lip, humping myself with desperation. My imagination was strong; thoughts of Simon filling my throat, the careful way he held my head as he thrust into my face, eyes like a blue flame, mouth ajar.

Eventually, my subsiding orgasm left me with the opposite effect, my needs more intense than when I started. I let out a frustrated growl, my one elevated foot dropping to the floor. I couldn’t understand why he wanted to wait. His dick was inside me five days ago, and now he wanted to pump the brakes. I was confused.

After freshening up, I took a breath, unlocked the door, and walked back to the front of the store. Mary was breaking down boxes when I joined her.

"How was your break?"

"It was fine." My voice was too high, and though I hoped she wouldn't notice, I knew it was in vain. Mary stared at me until I cracked. I sighed with a smile.

"I really shouldn't say anything."

"Is this about Simon?"

“… No.”

"Oh please. I’m nearly twice your age and a mother of three. He's written all over your face."

That was comforting.

"So, he hasn't told you anything?"

"Well, I never said that." She grinned as she tossed another flattened box on the pile. "I just figured your distraction was correlation."

I sighed again, venting; "I just don't understand him."

"Probably not," she remarked. I'd grown quite fond of Mary and her maternal wisdom.

"I wouldn't normally complain-" I complained as I wrangled with a loose strip of packing tape, "-but it's affecting me more than I thought it would."

"How so?"

I glanced over my shoulder to ensure we were alone, the quiet aisles of the outdated grocery seeming vacant. The twenty-four-hour store had its moments, but one certainly couldn’t call it busy.

Looking her in the eye, I didn't mince words. "I'm sexually frustrated."

“… And he doesn’t want to…?” she fished.

“Well, we already sort of did.”

“When?”

"When he was training me."

"Ah!" Mary exclaimed. "That part he didn’t tell me. You two don't waste any time, huh?"

"We didn't finish…"

“So you fooled around. But now he wants to take it slow?"

God, I hated that word.

"It's killing me, Mary."

"Is that what you were doing in the bathroom just now?"

"Yes."

She laughed and shook her head. "Killing you, huh? Then tell him so."

"I don't want to drive him away…"

"Fair enough. But I've known Simon for a while, I’d wager taking things slow is just his way of respecting you. He’s obviously into you, I'm sure it wouldn't truly irk him to oblige if you told him what you wanted."

"What do you mean ‘he’s obviously into me’?"

Mary was the next one to glance around. When she turned back, her brown eyes were warm, though weary.

"Four years ago, Simon lost his family. He had a wife and a young daughter."

My expression, shoulders, and heart dropped with a weight that wasn’t mine.

"He doesn’t really have any friends but me and the twins. Just after the accident he quit his career and started here, keeping to himself mostly. I've never seen him… involved with someone."

Her disclosure rustled my reality. Left me privy to a little bit more of the world. When I blinked, opening my mouth to respond, my words were cut by the insertion of Harrison's voice.

"Hello, ladies."

Mary and I instantly shifted our attention to the boxes.

"Mary," he greeted her, then turned to me. "How are you tonight, Ada?"

"Good."

“That’s good. Do you have a sec?”

“Sure.” I refrained from rolling my eyes until his back was turned, Mary joining me.

My head spun from her confession as Harrison walked uncomfortably close beside me.

“So,” he started once we were seated around his desk. “How are you liking your first week?”

Now that I knew him to a quantifiable degree, his professionalism was comical. He hadn’t been hard on me, but I saw the way he treated the others; snapping at Mary if something wasn’t done just so, becoming unreasonable and upset with Oscar when he took a few extra minutes on a break. I had yet to share a space void of tension when it contained both Simon and Harrison. Everything seemed to run smoothly until our boss stepped into the room.

“It’s been going well," I answered.

“Good. Everyone welcoming you to the team?”

I pulled my lips between my teeth and nodded, “Mmhmm,” unable to answer that with a straight face.

“Great. It’s been great having you here, you’re doing a really great job.”

I raised an eyebrow at his many colorful adjectives, imploring him to continue when he–out of character–took a pause.

“… Thanksgiving is next week.” My head did a weird nod in response to the mention. “You know, you’re doing so well, I could give you the holiday off.”

When the reason for this meeting became clear, I almost scoffed. I knew the store would be closed Thanksgiving afternoon, but a few of us would still need to come back for a late shift to prepare for Friday's morning crew. That he would offer me, the newest employee, the privilege of taking that night off left me gobsmacked.

“Um, I don’t-”

“And, you know, if you need a place to eat for the holiday, you’re more than welcome where I’m going. My brother is a chef, he makes an amazing turkey.”

… I'll be the first to admit the red flags made me curious. My decision to help my new coworkers solidified with his proposal. I filled my face with warmth.

"That's really nice of you, Harrison. I actually have plans with my own family, but thank you. And I'd really like to come in and cover for one of the others. 'Tis the season, you know."

Watching his face gently fall with uncomfortable guilt was glorious.

"Yes, of course. That's very kind of you."

"… Should I go now?" I asked when he seemed to fall into a reverie.

"Yeah–Yes," he replied, distracted.

I could feel him watch me cross the room and slip out the door. Perhaps because I let my hips sway...

November 22nd 7:08 a.m.

"You have how many siblings?"

"Oscar and I are the oldest of eight," Hector answered.

"Wow. Sorry, I only have one so that sounds like a lot," I tried to explain.

"It is a lot," Oscar concurred with a laugh.

We stood outside under the awning of the receiving dock, watching tufts of snowfall, constant yet calm as they had all night. The clouds were still so thick, one could hardly tell daylight had broken.

"And I was born before you, so technically I'm the oldest of eight," Oscar corrected.

"Fine, you're the oldest. But I'm better looking."

"We look the same, you idiot."

Simon entered my peripheral, Mary beside him.

"Don't slip," I warned.

"Oh, I did that a couple of years ago," Mary replied.

"Didn't Harrison ask you to return to work while your ankle was still sprained?" Simon recalled.

"Yep, while implying I not say anything to workers’ comp and he would pay me under the table. Like I was just going to come back and do him a favor while I couldn't even walk. God forbid he do some actual work."

"We could break his ankle," Oscar began.

"Then ask him to help with Saturday's shift," Hector finished.

"Yeah, well, we all know I get the first crack if it comes down to it," Simon inserted. "As it is, we survived another shift."

"Hear, hear!" we all chanted in response to his cue.

The first time I witnessed this after-work ritual, the novelty struck me. As inexperienced as I was with being on a team, I understood the rarity of one who looked out for each other.

"Alright, boys, to avoid a repeat of said sprained ankle, you have to help me to the parking lot," Mary announced, walking between Hector and Oscar. I knew she'd done it on purpose as we waved goodbye; Simon and I left alone.

"You know Harrison hired the twins when they were fourteen? They got jobs to help out their parents," Simon mentioned as we watched them retreat.

"That's noble."

"They're good kids," he agreed. "Almost can't believe they've put up with this place for so long. They say that this is the only full-time job that will work with their schedule until they can graduate–which is a reason itself. But part of me thinks they're staying for Mary."

“Isn’t that what you’re doing?” I prompted. Mary's earlier words reminded me that Simon was employed at the Foodway by choice and not necessity.

Simon glanced at me just long enough to tell me he heard me, and just short enough to say he wouldn’t answer.

"Why doesn't Mary just find something else?" I opted.

"She makes just enough here to remain eligible for state assistance. Harrison gives her borderline offensive pay but a ton of hours and it works out better for her financially, and he knows it."

I shook my head. I wanted more for Mary. For all of them. Although, how I could give more to a man like Simon, I had no idea.

"I owe you an apology.” His words were hushed by the rhythm of porous, falling snowflakes. When I looked up at him, he looked back, debating his answer to my ocular inquiry. "Thinking about you taking the bus in this weather makes me nervous… Do you want to come to my place?"

I slowly smiled. "Yeah, I do."

November 22nd 7:42 a.m.

I remained stationary when Simon walked ahead, large shoulders flexing upon the removal of his coat. His small home gave the illusion of space; a loft over the living area with windows that framed the snow-globe city. Two long pulls on a set of thick black curtains and it was nighttime all over again–darker, in fact.

The warm, dim room contained him and me and a whole elephant the size of my libido. He ambled toward me, slid my coat from my shoulders. My breath trembled as his fingertips ran up my arms.

"About that apology." The pitch of his deep voice melted me.

"Hmm?" Distracted by his large torso level with my gaze, I placed a hand on his stomach, felt how dense he was beneath his thin t-shirt.

"I realize it was very unfair of me to suggest we wait when I have yet to return the sentiment of your earlier favor."

"What do you mean?"

In answer, Simon palmed the back of my head and kissed me.

The grenade of my restraint met detonation, hands instantly at his belt. He allowed it, though he was faster. Before I could accomplish what I'd been thinking about all week–holding his cock in my grasp, wrapping my lips around it, sucking the cum from it–his hand was down my pants.

“Fuck, this is wet,” he marveled as he sunk two fingers into my pussy. My view of him disappeared; eyes rolling back.

"Ahh yesss," I hissed as Simon fondled my inner sweet spot.

"Mary told me you got yourself off in the bathroom at work," he confessed as he fucked me with his hand. "Don't think I've ever been so turned on, guilty and angry at the same time."

"You were angry?"

"I'm apologizing, aren't I? Besides… I did the same at lunch."

I purred at the thought of him privately jacking himself. "Then why are you so adamant to wait?"

"Because I'm trying to do the right thing, but, fuck, you're making that difficult."

"This is the right thing," I urged, grinding myself on him. "Please don't stop."

"Oh, don't you worry. I'll give you what you need," he promised. I moaned aloud, shamelessly humping his hand as I looked him in the eye. "Fuck, you're beautiful like this. Let me take you upstairs."

When I nodded, he muscled me into his arms, carried me to the top of the loft, and delivered me to an enormous bed.

In the faint light of a narrow window, frosted by fog, Simon undressed me, eliciting delicious thrills through my nerves. It was the first time I’d seen him without a hat, his jet black hair just long enough to get messy as I ran my hands through it.

“What are you doing?” I asked when he moved lower.

His response was to open my legs, dip his head, and lick my pussy with a wide-pressed tongue. My inhale was sharp, air cutting through my suddenly dry throat. He explored my plump sex with excitement, tasting wetness that was all for him. He licked hard against my smooth lips, gently suckled my still tender clit, French-kissed the entrance to my pussy. Propped on one elbow, I reached to fist his hair, holding him to me, his beard brushing my inner thighs.

“Ohh that’s so good, you like that?” I didn't try to hide my surprise. Men didn't normally do this for me… Sure, my pussy had been licked before, but never with passion and skill the way Simon performed.

“Mmm," he growled. For a brief moment, I felt his teeth. "Of course. You’re so fucking sweet.”

Enamored by his onslaught of generosity between my thighs, the way he savored my pleasure, I began a rhythm against the cushion of his lips and tongue, humping his face. When he grabbed my hips and encouraged me, humming deep moans into my center, my reality turned inside out. All the men I'd been with before suddenly seemed very selfish. Blue eyes on me, Simon's hands never stopped caressing my body as I rocked against him, rubbing my cunt all over his tongue. When he added not two, but three fingers to my pussy, a quickening started within me.

"Simon!" I gasped as he encouraged my climax into existence. I'd never been brought to orgasm this way. The closer I drew, the louder I cried, "Please! Please fuck me!"

He didn’t stop until my fingers threatened to rip the hair from his skull. Quickly stretching above me, Simon grabbed his cock–already hanging out of his pants–and lined himself up. His t-shirt against my bare chest was an indescribable comfort.

"Yes, oh my god, yes! Give me your cock," I begged as he pushed into me. Closing a fist in my hair, he pressed his forehead to mine as he opened me up. "Simon," I whimpered when he was to the hilt, "fuck me hard, please."

If he had done anything but, I'd have cried. Perhaps he heard it in my voice. He guided my knees toward my shoulders, folding me so his cock would reach my g-spot as he drew back and slammed deep.

Taking his wrist and placing his hand on my neck, I encouraged him to cut off my airway as he pounded into me. He obliged, eyes boring into mine, enhancing the satisfying way he choked me as I began to come all over his cock. 

“You like this, Ada?” He didn’t try to hide his surprise either.

Unable to scream, my slack jaw and clenching pussy spoke for me.

“Is this what you needed? My hand around your throat while I fuck you?”

The voice in my head screamed, YES!

Simon released me just as the tingle of pressure began to rise in my chest. The rush of air to my lungs revived me, giving oxygen to the fire that consumed me, and when able once more, I moaned a long string of soprano profanity;

“Oooohfuckyesohmygoddon’tstopfuckingmefuckfuckyespleaseSimonohGOD!”

His breath grew short, thrusts matching, and when I begged him to cum in me, he obeyed.

It was like being the center of his universe.