“Hey, you,” she said.
“Hi!” I said. I froze. It is so impractical to agonize over someone calling you, and then have nothing to say when they actually do. Damn it, what is wrong with me!
“What are you doing? Are you at work?”
“Yeah! I am. It’s been a really interesting night here.”
“So, I’m actually stuck at the Orlando airport the next twelve hours—my flight to Charlotte had to do an emergency landing here because they were low on fuel.”
“Who the fuck is Charlotte!” The words blurted out of me. Even though I shouldn’t be getting jealous when I was the one who just engaged in unicorn activities.
“Oh—a really hot…” she paused and I could feel tears beginning to form in my eyes. My bloody finger dripped on my palm as I clenched my hand into a fist. “… City in North Carolina! You psycho.” She couldn’t stop laughing.
“I’m not psycho!” I said. “I just don’t like North Carolina. It’s a swing state and it always messes up elections, okay?” Up until about four days ago, I only thought of elections when anyone mentioned the word “swing,” but now it has a whole other meaning.
“Are you working all night?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“I’ll come by and keep you company!” she said.
“Oh! Okay,” I said. I wanted to jump up and down and scream FUCK YES but a very subdued okay made up for my schizoid Charlotte comment. They balanced each other out. I’d have to stop the bleeding before she got here though, or else my craziness would be inescapable.
“My phone is gonna die but I’ll let you know when I’m on the road,” she said, and hung up. How was she even getting here? Orlando was like two hours from the store. I couldn’t believe this was happening. I pinched myself. I needed to take a more proper shower; I still smelled like a threesome.
I quickly went to the bathroom for a quick “kind-of” shower. I took bottles of Dasani and spilled them on myself, rubbing off as much sweat as I could. It worked to some degree, but I don’t think it covered all of it. My breath was a whole other issue. I couldn’t find any mints or candy in the store, but I did find out that Sandy keeps a toothbrush in the bathroom. I mean, she was sort of like a family member at this point, right? I could totally use her toothbrush.
I scrubbed as much of my body as I could, running out in between washes to check on the store. Every time the bell on the door rang, my heart felt like it dropped to the floor, much like my cell phone.
Each time I came out of the bathroom, I checked in on shorts/pants guy. After a grueling twenty minutes, he successfully achieved a boner. His problem was that he was too concerned with watching the actual DVD, which didn’t give him what he needed. He was now watching the DVD menu, which had five boxes on it, and within each box was a mini version of each scene. So it was essentially a loop of moments of sex and moments of cum inside of vaginas. I was happy to see he found a solution. He was a grower and not a shower. He didn’t take his shorts/pants off. His cock just peeked through the zipper. Magic. I was happy for him.
As I went into the bathroom for another clean, wondering why I still reeked of sex, I realized that my shirt was still heavily wafting smells of arousal all around me. Shit. I didn’t have a change of clothes at the store; I guess I’d have to put on something from the shelves.
I looked through the selection of clothing in the store, and I decided to wear this purple corset that was on display. It wasn’t too revealing, it looked more like something people with adventurous lives would wear as a top. It zipped in the middle and it was laced in the back. I was able to slide it on comfortably, and it actually looked quite good with the leggings I had on, and my Converse were an interesting touch. My styling looked intentional, sort of like I was a cute, wacky next door neighbor character on a sitcom. When I worked retail, I was always required to wear clothing from the store to work because my bosses thought it would help sell the clothing. I don’t see why that shouldn’t apply here. That would be my cover story if Amanda didn’t like my corset; I will blame it on the corporate policy of this obviously non-corporate store.
Once the shorts/pants guy got going he was done pretty quickly. I was beginning to enjoy the ever-growing visual Rolodex of people and their O faces inside my brain. Everyone had their own unique orgasm: some people were loud, some were quiet, some kept their eyes open, some kept them closed, some sat down, some stood up, some people ran out of the room as soon as they ejaculated, and some people sat around and decompressed for a moment. Some people wiped everything off immediately and some people tasted their own cum, some people used an excessive amount of lube and some used none. The cream-pie guy spit in his hand and masturbated swiftly; he stared at the TV screen and ejaculated a small load into his hands, wiped them off with tissue and exited the store immediately. I tried to say good-bye, but he speed-walked right past me, leaving his DVD behind. I suppose it was a onetime use. I was glad he was done, though; I didn’t really want anything distracting me from what I hoped was a very sensual night.
About two hours later, Amanda walked through the door, in a black blazer, black jeans, black boots, and a soft, white T-shirt.
She was smokin’ hot. I tried not to stare at her; I failed.
Meanwhile, I looked like a somewhat grown version of Punky Brewster in my multicolored half-lingerie half laundry day leggings ensemble. But you know what? I was feeling it. We were an odd couple, a sexy, horny odd couple and that’s okay.
“You look cute,” she said, as she stood in the doorway. I ran over to her, threw my arms around her neck, and kissed her. I hope she realized how new and improved my kiss was; I expected compliments at some point.
“I can’t believe you’re here!” I said.
“Yeah—I randomly appear sometimes!” she answered. She kissed my neck, and put her hands in my back pocket and grabbed onto my ass. We were right in the doorway causing an adorable fire hazard—a very drunk guy practically knocked us over trying to get inside. We laughed, and I pulled her behind the counter and grabbed her a seat.
“So, you’re stuck here?” I asked.
“Well, in Orlando, yeah. I guess so!”
“I can’t say I’m not happy about that. Even though I know it kind of sucks for you,” I said.
“Yeah, I know,” she replied with a very smug smile. She vaguely knew the power she had over me. I couldn’t yet figure out if she found it endearing or annoying.
The drunk guy stumbled around the store; I could smell the potent cologne and wafts of vodka from across the room. He squinted and looked at a handful of movies. He then attempted to put them back, but he dropped them all on the floor.
“Easy, there!” Amanda said, and she walked over to him and put movies he dropped back into their place.
“Can I help you?” she asked him. This woman took control over my brain and now she was taking control over my store. I don’t know how she did it.
“Where’s the bathroom?” he slurred.
“Over there,” I pointed to it. He then walked toward the bathroom but halfway he just began urinating on the floor.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Amanda yelled, and went over to him and smacked him upside the head, somehow stopping the pee coming out of him. She pushed a few buttons on her phone.
“I got a cab coming for you, all right buddy?” He tried to reach out and grab her breasts and she pushed him back. “No!” She pointed at him and yelled, like speaking to a bad dog. She pulled him outside the store while I went and cleaned up his piss with Clorox wipes.
She walked back inside and the two of us burst out laughing.
“Well, I’m glad you got to meet some of Tampa’s finest!” I said.