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Chris awoke the next morning to the blaring sound of his alarm clock and hit it a couple times before it went silent. He had slept very well and felt well-rested but that did not change the fact that he still didn’t want to get out of bed. Rolling over, he pulled his laptop off of his bedside table and onto his stomach. He lifted the lid and it came to life, showing him the same pictures from last night. He smiled wryly and closed the browser window.
He checked his email and Facebook and commented on a couple wall posts, one of which was a new picture of his friend Leslie doing some modeling; her dreadlocks were dyed pink, her eyes looked smoky and she had a sultry pout. He made a mental note to check more of her photos out later, shut his laptop and started getting dressed.
Rummaging through his dresser drawers he found a clean pair of jeans and a brown polo shirt. He donned them along with a brown belt in an attempt to keep his pants up on his thin waist. He grabbed a bite to eat, brushed his teeth, ran a comb through his bed head and headed to school. When Chris arrived, he parked his car and said ‘hi’ to a couple people he knew before heading into the building.
First period was History. He flopped down into his seat and took out his Biology book and did his homework for that class while waiting for the morning bell to sound. The class presentations on the Peloponnesian War seemed to drag on forever. It didn’t help that each group of students gave almost the same information even though they all had different topics. Every PowerPoint was just as dry and clinical as the last. Finally the bell rang and the class was freed.
Chris made his way down the hall towards English class, waving to a few more friends as they walked past. He took up his usual seat and pulled out his copy of The Jungle and perused the chapters to refresh his memory. Ms. Callahan came in with her red hair in a high ponytail, the hair flowing from beneath the band was curled loosely. She wore a black ruffled blouse and vintage leopard skirt that fit the widest part of her hips snugly before flaring out. On her wrists jingled her silver bracelets and her cat-eye glasses were perched on the tip of her nose.
She called the class to attention and handed out this week’s quizzes. Chris took one from the top of the stack and passed the rest back. He scribbled his name across the top and quickly filled in the answers. He looked around to his classmates and they seemed to be struggling with recollecting the readings from the previous week. He sailed through and was the first to bring his quiz up to Ms. Callahan.
“Good Chris, first as usual,” she whispered. He nodded with a bit of pride and took his seat once again. The rest of class went by quickly. When all the students turned in their quizzes, Ms. Callahan gave out a homework assignment. In preparation for the end of the semester and midterms, she wanted her students to practice their composition skills.
“When The Jungle was published, it caused a ripple of change to go through the meatpacking industry. Safe and sanitary working conditions were put in place to protect workers and consumers. Many of today’s food safety regulations are in place due to this book and other people who stood up for what they believed in,” she explained. “I want you all to do some brainstorming and begin writing a five-page paper on a ‘hot button’ topic of your choosing. Make sure it is something you are passionate about, something in society that needs to be changed,” she encouraged. As the bell rang, students packed up their books and she had to shout over the clamor, “I want to see some ideas written down, some sources to cite and the introduction to your paper written out. We’ll meet one on one to discuss your topic.” The class flooded out into the halls and most headed for lunch. “Chris, one minute please.”
Chris pulled his bag onto his shoulder and waited for the rest of the class to file out before going to Ms. Callahan’s desk, “Yes, Ms. Callahan?”
“I just wanted to remind you about our appointment on Monday. Don’t worry about your assignment until we can meet up together. Just pick a topic that appeals to you and when we meet at my house I’ll give you some tips and we can work on your introduction together,” she said as she smiled softly.
“Thanks Ms. C,” Chris smiled back, “I think I already have a topic in mind.”
“Good!” she said excitedly, “Have a good weekend and I’ll see you in class on Monday.”
He jogged down to the cafeteria and grabbed a cheeseburger and fries from the serving line. The lunch room was packed but there was still an open seat at his usual table. His friend Leslie sat there munching on a piece of French bread pizza, her pink dreads framing her face, her dark-lined eyes catching his. She waved him over and scooted closer to her friend Scarlett to give him more room. He walked faster, a spring in his step, and sat next to her. She was chatting with her other girl friends about her plans for the weekend.
“Chris, magarsus izle you want to go out to the club with us tonight?” Leslie asked between bites.
“I have work, but maybe when I’m done,” he said, trying to act nonchalant.
“Cool!” she said, placing a hand innocently on his thigh. Chris’ heart fluttered. Leslie was the complete opposite of Chris; she was wild, he was reserved, she was the yin to his yang and helped him to come out of his shell. He had already had his mind set on getting his work done and trying to get out early tonight!
The rest of the day went by swiftly and soon he was on his way to work. Sarah was there already, her hands full with one of the dishwashers. She had him at a cutting board with a bag of potatoes and was giving him a demonstration.
“Cortalo aqui y aqui,” she explained in Spanish as she cut the small potato into four pieces, “y pone los pedazos en la agua,” she said, adding the potatoes to a bucket of cold water. “Cuando estas terminado, dime.” She was always kinder and gentler when she was training people. She seemed to have unlimited patience. “Hola pato!” she greeted me as I came into her view. The dishwasher chuckled at the salutation and continued quartering the potatoes.
“Pato? What does pato mean?” Chris asked. He knew some kitchen Spanish, mainly enough to ask for more plates and for the garbage to be taken out, but he knew she was making fun of him, he just wasn’t sure exactly to what ends.
“It’s a term of endearment,” Sarah replied, lying through her teeth. Chris shrugged it off and moved on, knowing she probably wasn’t going to tell him so there was no use in worrying about it.
“What do you want me to do today, boss lady?”
“Well, I’m going to have you working the salad station again,” she said, looking over a prep list she had made. “Hector is cutting potatoes for homefries and Mark is putting together the Wellingtons. Have you ever made the Pecan Pie?” she asked the apprentice.
“Yeah, Jose showed me,” Chris responded.
“Good, I’m putting you in charge of making a dozen of them,” she said in an unusually cheerful mood, “We need some for desserts for service and a couple more for the dessert buffet for brunch.”
Chris nodded and pulled out a little spiral memo pad from his pocket and flipped through the pages until he found the recipe for the Cider Pecan Pie and set to making twelve of them. As he was gathering his mise en place he would observe Sarah making her rounds to the other stations. She was happy and smiling and helpful, even cut lemons for the waitstaff without protest, a chore she loathed. Normally she would tell the dining room captain, “Give them all knives and have them cut their own lemons! The ones stupid enough to cut themselves don’t deserve to work here anyway! Survival of the fittest!” But today there was no protest. A sudden realization hit him and sly smile crept over his face.
“What are you smiling about?” Sarah asked, catching him staring at her as she came to check on him.
“You got some last night, didn’t you?” he asked in a low tone, a shit-eating grin plastered over his face. Her face immediately flushed bright red and she punched him hard on the arm, causing him to wince in pain. “Ha! I knew it!” he retorted, her reaction confirming his suspicions.
“Dude, don’t get her pissed off,” Mark shouted from across the kitchen, “She’s being nice, why would you do anything to ruin that!” he jested.
“You all can go to hell!” Sarah said, narrowing her eyes and glaring at them all.
They all quietly went back to work until Mark asked, “So, who’s the lucky guy?”
“Or girl,” Chris added in, which earned him another punch on the arm. He always suspected Sarah of being bisexual; the way she looked at the waitresses, how her hand lingered on the bartender’s when they spoke, he just had no proof. Sarah was a very secretive and private person and didn’t discuss her personal life like most of the men did. Some of the cooks speculated that was because she had no personal life, that she would just go home and park herself in front of the TV or computer with a bottle and drink until she passed out, which would take a while with her tolerance. Mark and Chris, on the other hand, thought she didn’t talk about it because she had some deep dark secrets she wasn’t comfortable sharing. Chris’ mind flashed to the porn from last night and he pictured petite Sarah wearing leather, holding a cat-o-nine tails and his cock twitched in his pants.
Her twenty-six-year-old body was curvy in all the right places, but her uniform did a good job of covering that up. On top of that she wore her hair up under a handkerchief and never wore make-up to work. He had seen her once at the mall out of her uniform. She was wearing a pair of low cut jeans that were perfectly molded to the swell of her ass, a spaghetti-strap top that showed off her ample cleavage.. She had let her wavy brunette hair down and it framed her face, her make-up done tastefully. She manifest izle had banged quite a few of the other cooks, just not Chris. He has just turned eighteen last November, a mere four months ago. ‘Maybe she just didn’t want to go to jail for having sex with a minor,’ he told himself. He knelt down to put the pies in the oven and gave himself an adjustment while he was down there. His mind pictured her riding up and down on his cock, a look of ecstasy on her pretty face and his dick got a bit harder. He tried to banish the thoughts of her by thinking about Mark, an over-weight mustachioed Italian man, in a speedo. It worked.
Dinner service went well. Sarah was in such a good mood, she didn’t even start screaming at a waitress that dropped a baked potato on the ground. Chris rocked the salad station and Mark was sending out perfectly cooked steaks. When the chaos subsided and there were just a few tables left, Chris started wiping the counters and sent his dishes to the dishwasher.
“You itchin’ to get out of her, G-Man?” Mark asked.
“I was hoping to,” he responded, continuing to clean up.
“Got a hot date?” Sarah said, putting him on the spot instead.
“No, just going out to the club with some friends,” he said, trying to play it of, “I just want to have some time to take a shower before I leave.”
Sarah gave him a knowing look but didn’t pester him about it any further. “Just wrap up your station and you can go,” she said as she finished garnishing a slice of the pecan pie that Chris had made earlier in his shift. Chris smiled and covered all his pans in plastic and wiped down the bars that held them up in the refrigerator unit.
Chris turned towards Sarah to ask her if he could go and saw the towel come whizzing towards his backside. He had no time to react as the wet end snapped and lashed his left butt cheek. He let out a yelp and some muffled obscenities and glowered at the older woman.
“That’s what you get for not minding your own business,” Sarah said plainly.
“Fuck Sarah! That’s going to leave a mark!” Chris howled, rubbing the already raised welt on his backside.
“Tough it out, Newbie,” she said with an evil smile.
Chris grabbed his things and headed out. As he sat on his car seat, the sting from the makeshift whip sprang forth anew. “Shit that hurts!” he cursed to himself. The drive home was a short one and once parked, he jogged up to his room and grabbed a fluffy blue towel and headed to the bathroom. He turned the faucet on and cranked the handle to work the shower controls. Once the stream was running and beginning to warm up he disrobed and immediately spun around to check his rear. Bright red and stinging sat the tear-drop-shaped mark from the towel. He cursed softly under his breath and then climbed into the shower.
The water was hot, but after a quick adjustment it was perfect. He ran his fingers through his hair and down his neck, working out some of the tension that had built up over the course of the week. Grabbing the shampoo bottle he dispensed some into his hair and worked up a lather with his finger tips. As he got clean he thought about what he would wear to the club. He decided to go classy and wear a black dress shirt and black slacks. Then his thoughts turned to what Leslie might be wearing. He shook his head and banished the thought or he’d be in the shower until the hot water ran out. He soaped up his body, paying special attention to his armpits and groin before rinsing and turning off the water. He wrapped his waist in the towel and stepped out onto the bathmat. He rummaged through the medicine cabinet and pulled out a tube of gel, squeezed a small amount into his hand and spread it evenly through his hair, pulling his short hair into little spikes. He took a look in the mirror and shook his head, messing up the style a bit before the gel set. Satisfied, he put on deodorant, cologne and brushed his teeth before heading back to his room.
Chris threw his dirty clothes into the hamper and hung his towel on the back of his bedroom door. He found a pair of clean boxers and searched for the clothes he wanted to wear. As he was pulling on his pants, his phone began to buzz. He searched for it only to realize that it was still in his chef pants pocket, now residing in the laundry hamper. Digging it out, he touched the screen and found he had a new text message:
From Leslie L.
U still coming out w/ us tonite? We’ll be @ Sanctuary until close!
Sent at 10:34pm
Chris sent a text back that read, “Yeah, I think I can make it out there,” trying to play it as cool as he could but as soon as he hit send he tossed his phone onto the bed kicked it in high gear. He dressed in front of his full-length mirror; first a white t-shirt, then the black button down shirt buttoned to the top. He unbuttoned a few, then took both the black shirt and t-shirt off. Putting the dress shirt back on he left several buttons undone, showing his bare chest a bit. Belt, socks, shoes, silver manifesto of a serial killer izle watch, phone in front pocket, wallet in back pocket, caddy-cap on his head; one last look and he bolted out the door to his car.
He drove to Sanctuary and parked around back. It was still early and the line to get in was very short. Chris proffered his ID to the bouncer along with the ten dollar cover. Ladies night and the prices for guys went up, but he didn’t mind. It ensured plenty of girls to watch dance. Once inside, his ears were assaulted with the loud, thumping music. Chris entered the club and made his way through the throngs of people towards the dance floor. Sanctuary was a large rectangular venue with bar on either ends of its short sides. The walls were painted candy apple red with black leather upholstered benches lining the longer walls. The dance floor was sunken by a few feet with two platforms surrounded by wrought iron railings with stripper poles in the middle of them. Every night had a particular musical theme. Wednesdays served up alternative music and remixes of Marilyn Manson and Nine Inch Nails. Thursdays were Eighties Nights with The Cure, Depeche Mode, The Smiths, etcetera. Fridays were local DJ Nights; tonight offered a popular girl DJ who was spinning some modern Electronic tracks. Chris couldn’t tell house from trance from electronica, but he liked the upbeat rhythms and pounding bass. It took him a second to adjust while he scanned the crowds for Leslie; it didn’t take long to find her.
On a platform stood Leslie and her friend Scarlett dancing together, grinding and gyrating to the music played by a nearby DJ. Her eyes caught his and his heart skipped a beat and he took a deep-breath, keeping his composure as he walked towards her. Leslie was wearing a skimpy red leather halter top that showed off her trim stomach and the elaborate swallow tattoos she had on her shoulders. Her butt was barely covered by a very short pair of black shorts that let the bottom of her ass cheeks peek out, her feet clad in red leather peep-toe pumps. Her pink dreads were held loosely on top of her head with a leopard-print headband, her makeup done in a 1940’s pin-up fashion with dark eyeliner and ruby red lipstick. Leslie was letting the music take control and she shook her hips and hooked her leg around the pole. Holding it tightly with her thigh she dipped backwards and shimmied her shoulders back and forth, causing her pert breasts to shake as well. She turned and leaned her back against the pole, grasping it from behind over her head and used it to steady her as she dropped to the beat. Her sweat glistened off her body as Chris continued to watch her overtly sexual display.
Chris was practically rock hard and was thankful for the dark club and his dark clothes. He walked nonchalantly to the bar and ordered two bottles of water, downing half of one in only a few gulps. He leaned against the bar and continued watching Leslie dance. She took her friend Scarlett’s hand and the two turned to dance closer together, soft bodies pressed together. Scarlett’s fiery red hair was done up in victory rolls and she was wearing a vintage-inspired black polka-dot dress with a plunging neckline. You could tell the young girls were not wearing bras, their hard nipples poking through the fabric as they rubbed their chests together. The two, getting turned on by one another, began kissing playfully, grinding against each other. The whole club was entranced by the display on the platform and as the song ended, the patrons began applauding and whistling. The two took a bow and Leslie began scanning the club. Chris assumed it was him she was looking for. He raised his hand a bit to get her attention and she came sashaying through the crowd towards him.
“I got you some water,” he shouted over the din, handing her the bottle. Leslie smiled and took it with a nod of appreciation, guzzling down half of her own bottle. “You looked great out there,” he added. She blushed, mouthing ‘Thanks’ and sat close to him to avoid being bumped by the other club goers and caught her breath. Chris wrapped an arm protectively around her shoulder and she laid her head on his chest, feeling secure in his grasp. He could smell the mix of her sweat and perfume, like wild roses and all he wanted to do was bury his face in the crook of her neck to drink her scent in more.
When a song came on that she liked she pulled Chris by the hand onto the dance floor. As she led the way through the crowd, he adjusted his pants in an attempt to hide his raging erection. They got to a clear spot in the center and she took his hands in hers and guided them to her hips. He held her there and steadied her as she began dancing dangerously close to him. Chris loosened up, which was a difficult for a man so shy, and his hands slid from her hips to the small of her back as she continued to gyrate to the beat of the music. Urged on, her hands traveled up and down his chest as she pressed her body close. Her eyes met his as her thigh grazed the bulge in his trousers. Chris flushed red and distanced himself from her a bit, embarrassed. Leslie smiled wryly and pulled him back, every curve of her body pressed intimately to his. He groaned softly, inaudible over the sound blaring from the speakers in the club. Her hand traced it’s way down to his erection and she cupped it gently.
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