I was about a week into the job, finally starting to get used to all the bullshit. It was entertaining to say the least. The guys all gave me just as much shit as they gave each other and instead of making me cringe, or feel like I was being harassed, it made me feel welcomed. Not to mention, the job was easy. Like too easy.
It was just before closing time on a Thursday night and I was in the office cleaning the shit up, bent over to put some old invoices in one of the file cabinets when I heard a little knock on the door behind me. I turned my head and smiled when I saw Eric. He was probably getting ready to take off. He was one of the more mild guys in the shop. I liked him.
“What’s up?” I asked as I closed the cabinet and stood up.
“I wanted to make sure Ras told you where the secret keys are to lock up the file cabinet,” he said as he came in with the cash drawer. Eric opened the top drawer of the cabinet to put the cash in it, along with his batch receipt and closed invoices.
“Ras didn’t tell me much. I’ve had to figure most of this out on my own. He talked a lot of shit and stared at my tits when he trained me,” I chuckled.
“He’s got wet brain. You’d never know he just turned twenty-three.”
“He seems closer to fifteen,” I snorted. “Where are these secret keys you speak of?”
“In a super secret hiding place. Can you be trusted?” He looked at me suspiciously.
“I still haven’t told anyone what my brother did on his graduation night and who he did it with,” I responded. “That was over a decade ago, but it would still ruin him if I told.”
“Brace yourself.” Eric moved around me to reach behind the phone at my workstation and produce a set of keys. “Tada!”
I laughed and said, “I would have found those when I cleaned later. Thanks. You think I should move them just to freak him out?”
“Oh Des and Ras will be yelling at each other all morning for losing them if you do, so fuck yeah,” he laughed.
“Consider them moved,” I smiled.
“Minx.” He reached into his pocket for his phone. As soon as Eric looked at the screen he rolled his eyes. He tapped the screen a few times and then threw the phone on the desk.
“Uh oh, everything okay?” Last I heard he was still fighting with his girlfriend.
“Depends on how you look at it. I broke up with Jess last night,” he told me. “She’s not taking it well.”
“Ooooh, I’m sorry,” I said, scrunching my nose. “Breakups are always shitty.” The last guy I broke up with practically stalked me for three months begging me to go back to him.
“I’m staying single from now on. Fuck it.” He plopped down on a rolling chair and laid his head on the desk.
“Nothing wrong with that.” I patted his back without thinking. I quickly pulled my hand back and turned to lean on the cabinet I was just putting invoices into. “I’ve been single going on two years and perfectly happy.” Roger, my vibrator was ready for a new set of batteries though.
“I’m not good at being single, though. It never stays that way for long. I don’t regret it until the fucking stops being fun and the serious shit starts,” Eric told me. “No more fun times and all talk about the future. It’s like fucking clockwork. Do you guys have an alarm clock or something? At three months the fucking all the time goes away and the bullshit starts.”
“Not that I know of… Have you ever thought about just getting a booty call? Make it clear upfront that all you’re interested in is sex. That way she knows if she starts to get into the “future” talk it’s the end. Makes it easy for you,” I shrugged.
“I’m not opposed to future talk if it’s the right girl. I do want to get married and have kids at some point, but I don’t want to strangle the woman I do it with,” he said.
“Maybe you’re going about it all wrong,” I suggested.
“I’m probably not the best person to take advice from, though. I’m perfectly happy single because I usually have the opposite problem. The last guy I dated proposed three months after we started dating and then stalked me for three months after I broke it off.”
“That’s fucked up.” Eric sat up in his chair. “Also pretty pathetic.”
“Am I that vile?” I laughed. “I’m stalkable.”
“I didn’t mean it like that. Clearly you have very watchable chesticles,” he said.
I pushed my tits together and looked down at them. “They’re getting old and probably saggy,” I chuckled.
“There’s easily half a dozen guys here who would gladly volunteer to carry them around for you.”
I snorted at that. “My bra does just fine,” I smiled as I let them go. “I’m not interested in any of those yahoos touching Thelma and Louise.”
“Not even Bobby?” Eric asked with amusement.
“I didn’t know she was a lesbian,” I shrugged. “But not even Bobby.”
“He has a girlfriend, you know?”
“You’re shittin’ me!” I gasped.
“He says he does. Personally I think it’s just a waitress at Hooters who feels sorry for him, but he goes around showing people a picture of himself with some moderately hot chick. I swear she’s in a Hooters uniform,” Eric said.
“This I need to see,” I said. “I’ve heard him being called ma’am though. I almost fell off the chair.”
“Bobby’s a fucktard. He talks a lot of shit and expects his friends to get him out of the problems he causes. And he thinks it’s funny. You know he’s thirty-five?”
“He can’t even grow a beard,” I said, clearly in shock over that. It was obvious he was trying to grow one. It looked like he had a small patch of pubes on his lip and chin.
“Yeah, Pat’s had a rough life,” he snickered.
“That seems to be an understatement,” I snorted. I liked Eric. He was easy to talk to.
His phone buzzed again and he reluctantly looked at it. He took a deep breath and then muttered, “She’s killin’ my vibe…”
“Sounds like someone needs a beer, or seven,” I told him.
“Or seven. I could seriously go for a Black and Blue. Or maybe a very strong rum and Coke,” he said.
“You mean rum kissed by Coke?” I smiled. “That’s usually my go to on the rough days too.”
“Pretty much. I can’t do whiskey shots which is a problem down here but my dad’s drinking himself to death with Jim Beam, so I can’t stand the smell of it, let alone drink it,” Eric confided.
“I’m sorry,” I frowned. I didn’t mention my parents because I didn’t want to be a one upper. I did want to hug him thanks to the sad puppy look on his face. I didn’t though.
“It is what it is. My parents split up when I was eight and my dad started drinking heavily. He’s been in Sweden the last two years supposedly getting clean but I don’t think so.”
“That sucks. Have you talked to him recently?” I asked as I started to move around the office, putting things away. Hearing about Eric’s woes made me want to have a drink when I got home.
“We’re not on speaking terms right now.”
“That’s shitty. What about your mom?” I pushed Eric out of the way to get to the desk behind him.
“We’re on rocky ground right now too,” he admitted.
“Better than no parents at all,” I muttered. I added a little louder, “I would offer to take you for a drink but I haven’t gotten my first paycheck yet.”
“It’s okay. I should get going. I live like an hour from here,” he said as he got up.
“Okay,” I smiled up at him. He was really tall. “I may just walk home. I could use the exercise and I’m sure Priscilla can use a breather.” I really needed a new car. Bad.
“I can drop you off,” he offered.
“You don’t have to, I’m sure I’ll be fine. I still have to finish up in here and you have an hour drive…”
“Is your stalker still on the loose?”
“Yeah, but I haven’t seen or heard from him in a long time.” As a matter of fact, Bill seemed to have dropped off the face of the earth. He just up and disappeared one day.
“Motherfucker’s just waiting for the right time to strike,” Eric said. “I can wait. Do what you have to do.”
“I just have to finish the invoices and leave a quick note for Des. I’m almost done,” I told him.
“No problem. I’ll keep myself busy.” Eric moved to the parts computer and opened Spotify. Next thing I knew, Snoop Dogg was playing loudly. I wouldn’t have pegged him for a rap fan.
I bobbed my head along with the song. I was an avid fan of all music, so it didn’t make a difference to me what we listened to. It took less than eight minutes to finish up what I needed to do.
“Any idea where I should put the keys?” I asked after I locked the cabinet.
“Honestly, somewhere obvious. They won’t even bother to look that close,” he told me.
“Like sitting on top of the file cabinet?” It was cluttered with shit anyway. The keys would blend right in.
I tossed them on top of the cabinet and bent under the desk to grab my purse. I locked the computer and turned to find Eric standing there looking at me.
“Ready,” I smiled.
“After you.” He gestured to the door.
I walked past him to the side door where we usually left out of. Eric locked up behind himself as he followed me out. The drive to my place wasn’t a very long one compared to what he was going to have to do. I was about three miles away, so the walk wouldn’t have been too bad. It was nice of him to offer to take me home though.
Once we were in his car he fired it up and I gave him directions to my place. It took less than six minutes to get there, which was mostly spent in silence other than when I had to tell him to turn.
“This is me,” I smiled when he pulled in front of King’s Court apartments. My unit was toward the back.
“Building three in the back. Unit 369,” I answered.
Eric drove toward the back of the complex. When he found my building he pulled into a parking space.
“Thanks. Do you work tomorrow?” I didn’t know everyone’s schedule yet.
“Yeah. I’m off on Sunday when the shop is closed and on Tuesday,” he told me.
I nodded as I opened the door. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow then…” It was on the tip of my tongue to invite him in for a drink but he had a long drive ahead of him.
“I’ll be there,” he replied. “And hey, hang on. Look, uh, I know what the repairs are going to cost you for your car. You didn’t hear it from me but Des is selling an ’05 Malibu some spoiled bitch didn’t want to repair the trans on. Last I heard he’s only trying to get two grand for it.”
“Oh… Thanks…” That was just about what I was going to have to pay to get Priscilla fixed up. She wasn’t worth that much though. “Maybe I’ll find a way to bring it up to him.”
“Don’t be too subtle,” he chuckled.
“Oh, I learned subtly doesn’t work with him,” I snorted. “When I say bring it up, I mean I’ll tell him I overheard some of the guys talking about it. Priscilla has treated me well, but she’s ready to retire.”
“She was ready for that about ten years ago,” he said.
“You’re lucky the old girl isn’t around to hear that,” I joked. “I’ll let you get on the road. Thanks again for bringing me home.” I stepped out of his Grand Prix, closing the door behind me. The window was down so we could still talk if we wanted to.
“You’re welcome. You’re actually on my way, so it’s no big deal,” he told me.
“Drive safe,” I smiled as I stepped back.
“Thanks.” Eric moved his hand to the gear shaft but didn’t put the car in gear. “Are you hungry?”
“Yeah, I was going to make a chicken quesadilla when I got up to my apartment,” I told him.
“Wanna skip it and go grab dinner?”
“Hmm, sure, why not?” I opened the car door again to get back inside and pulled my seatbelt over my body. “Where are you thinking about going?”
“Just that Mexican place on Omar Street,” he said. “The corn they make is fuckin’ ridiculous.”
“Mmm, I’ve been there. I could use some enchiladas. My stomach just may rejoice when I get them in there.”
“The only people who don’t like that place are puppy killers and Bieber fans.”
“True story,” I agreed. “I think the stalker wasn’t a fan. That should’ve been my first clue.”
“It really should have been.” Eric backed out of his parking spot. “Word to the wise, never let Andre drive you anywhere if you can help it. He’ll do donuts til you puke.”
With that, Eric spun his tires and peeled out.
I giggled and braced one hand on the door handle, the other on the center console. When he took off, I knew that was the right choice. I felt like I was stuck to the seat.
“I’m starting to think riding with you was a bad idea,” I laughed.
“You’re safe,” he assured me and skittered around the corner. Eric shifted expertly and smoothly. He got up to eighty miles per hour on the straightaway on Hummingbird Lane. “Too bad my flux capacitor is tits up,” he joked.
I leaned over to look at the speedometer. “You have eight more miles per hour to go anyway,” I said seriously.
Eric reached over to pull my seatbelt tighter and then punched the accelerator so we shot forward. Eighty-five, eighty-six, eighty-seven…
“Where we’re going, we don’t need roads,” he smirked as we hit ninety-five.
I laughed like a loon at that. I appreciated a guy with good taste in movies and music. Too bad I worked with him, and that he was still dealing with a clingy ex. I also took note of the fact his hand was still wrapped around my seatbelt so his knuckles brushed the underside of my boobs. I didn’t say anything.
Eric had to slow down some when we reached a corner, but it didn’t take him long to get back up to speed. It was nice having the wind whipping through my hair. It made any of my worries seem to fade away. The air was fresh and cool. I was… comfortable was the only word I could think of.
When we pulled up to the restaurant a few minutes later my tummy rejoiced.
“Will you mind if I get a margarita with my dinner?” I asked. They made wonderful pomegranate margaritas.
“Get whatever you want.”
I nodded as he put the car in park. I opened my door to get out as soon as the engine was off and waited for Eric at the back of the car. We both probably smelled like grease from the shop. We walked into the restaurant side by side and we were quickly seated. We got a booth by the window in the back, and I immediately ordered my margarita. I wasn’t a big drinker, but I wanted to celebrate my first week with a job.
“I don’t even need to look at the menu,” I stated when he picked his up.
“I just have a hard time deciding. Fuck it, I’ll get the fiesta platter.” He put the menu down.
“That’s always a good choice.” It had some of everything on it. “One chicken, and one cheese enchilada for me.” My mouth was already watering.
“So… you and tequila… does it turn you into a stripper?” He was serious. Was Eric interested in seeing me naked?
“If I have enough,” I admitted. Usually one margarita wasn’t going to get me drunk. Two shots and I was on top of the bar, dancing with at least my shoes off.
“So no more than two drinks for you.”
“Unless you want me flashing my tits, that wouldn’t be the best idea,” I chuckled. I had a full D cup, so he’d get an eye full for sure.
“I wouldn’t say no to it,” he told me. Again, he was serious.
That actually made me blush a little.
“Are you one of the guys that would carry Thelma and Louise around for me?” I asked curiously.
“Good to know,” I nodded. Eric was very handsome. His goofyness made him even cuter. He was still a co-worker though. I didn’t want to go there. “If my bra ever gives out in the office I’ll let you know.” It didn’t hurt to flirt a little, right?
“I even keep my hands clean.” Eric showed me his large hands. They were nice. Nice enough to have me crossing my legs.
“The girls appreciate that,” I smirked. “They like dirty boys, but not that kind of dirty.”
“Oh? What kind of dirty do they like?”
I leaned over the table, pressing my tits onto the lacquer finish. The shirt I was wearing showed just a hint of cleavage. I looked him in his eyes and said just loud enough for him to hear, “They like the kind of dirty that spanks my ass and calls me a naughty little minx when I ask for more.” There, that should’ve gotten him going.
What are you doing Sookie?
“Good one,” he chuckled.
I sat back up just as the waitress came over with my margarita. She also took our order before she walked away. I took a big drink and groaned as soon as it hit my tongue. Delicious.
“Want some?” I asked, motioning toward my drink.
“No, you don’t want me to have tequila. It turns me into the kind of beast that’ll grab you by your hair and make you swallow my cock,” he smirked.
“Want some?” I offered again, smirking right back.
Stop it Sookie Stackhouse!
Roger was going to get a lot of use that night.
“That’s probably not a good idea even if it is a very enticing offer,” he said sincerely.
“You’re right,” I agreed. I took my drink back and placed it on the table to my right. “So what do you normally do on your days off?” I needed to change the subject.
“Home repair projects. I bought a house last fall.”
“Oh, congratulations,” I smiled. “I haven’t even thought about buying my own house. My brother lives in my parents’ old house, but it still looks like 1994 in there.”
“I’m not talking to my mom because I bought a house. She got pissed at me for moving out and taking my $600 a month with me,” he explained.
“That’s still shitty,” I said. “She’s lucky she has a son, and she’s worried about money. I will never understand that. I lost my parents when I was a kid, that petty, selfish shit that parents pull just pisses me off.”
“You’d think she would be excited or proud, but instead she was pissed that I was taking away her fun money,” he told me. “I’m sorry about your parents, by the way.”
“Thanks. Losing them put a lot of things in perspective for me. That’s probably why I don’t understand being mad about money. Buying a house is a huge deal, and you’re right, she should be congratulating you, not mad over money. Money doesn’t buy happiness,” I finished and then took another drink of my margarita.
“Mmm… It buys tacos so it kind of does.”
I laughed and said, “It does. And who doesn’t love a good taco?”
“Mel prefers hot dogs, so he doesn’t count.”
“You asked,” he shrugged. “I know I could eat tacos for hours.”
That had me pressing my legs together.
“Roger is going to have fun tonight,” I chuckled, not that he knew what Roger was.
Why was I still bringing up sexual shit?
“You know I’ve been single for a couple years, you do the math.”
“No, he has beads that rub– I shouldn’t tell you this stuff.” I sucked down more of my drink, trying to shut myself up.
“So tequila loosens your lips too, huh?”
“Apparently.” By the end of the margarita that could be true of both sets. It must have been my lack of food. I wasn’t a hussy by any means, but I couldn’t stop. My brain to mouth filter was broken.
Eric was quiet for a few minutes. The waitress brought us complimentary chips and salsa. He didn’t hesitate to dive into them. We stayed quiet after my completely inappropriate comments. I finished off my margarita, but didn’t order a second. Who knows what I would have done had I drank more tequila. I wasn’t embarrassed. I probably should have been, but Eric was cute and he didn’t seem to mind that I said what I did. It didn’t matter much anyway. He was a colleague. I didn’t fuck with them. I liked my life uncomplicated, and hooking up with co-workers complicated things.