In Uniform (2 page)

“
One more,” Jenny begs,
“I'm so close.”

I take strike after strike. The sexy woman
rips open her shirt and strokes and rubs her big tits in front of
my eyes. There's no hope of me losing my erection now. The way that
Jenny is fondling her own nipples is hot. I can barely think
until...

“
Ohhhh---”

It's a long rowdy orgasm that is nothing
more than a single long squirt.

“
I got your baby,” Jenny
whispers, lying on my chest and smiling happily. “You'll have to
marry me now.”

I stare at her. I guess she has a point.

I mumble at her and she rips off the tape in
one long painful movement.

“
I'll think about it,” I
say.

The tape goes back on. We aren't done
yet.

3

In their small home many years later...

With a rub of Jenny's rounded stomach, I
take my briefcase and head for the door.

“
You two have a nice day,”
I call to the lounging mother and her baby-to-be.

Coming out on to the street, I wave to a few
cops over the road and walk over to the car park where my brand new
family wagon is parked. I get inside, turn the key and pull out
onto the road. My phone beeps.

“
Will you marry me?” I read
outloud.

I shake my head. It's only been 7 months,
but I guess it's time.

Okay,
I text back.

Just like that I joined all those other
fools that agree to marry their loved ones over text. It doesn't
feel so bad from where I'm sitting.

The End

On The Balcony

Big Down There 2

Book 1

MY EYES CAN'T GET ENOUGH OF HIM.

Jack Barrels stands behind the large black
and silver metal coffee machine, his large heavy set arms working
the small handles of the espresso groups, twisting, turning,
ejecting and inserting. The muscularity of his tanned forearms is
such that the barbed rose vine tattoo that runs up the right side
one from wrist upwards to under his shirt looks almost real; its
vibrant reds and low skin tanned greens vibrating in the winds of
the man's movements.

"Espresso - double," the customer
decides.

"Yes, sir," I pipe out.

Click, click, ching, money. Another order in
on a crazy busy day at the cafe I have been working at for about a
year full time. Why did everyone decide to come to the sea on my
day off? I was supposed to be out there surfing the waves, not
thinking about Harry (my ex-boyfriend of two weeks) and just
generally getting the stresses and strains of life and the week out
of my system on the cusp of a good wave or two. I'm definitely not
supposed to be perving at the weekend barista (the handsome Mr.
Barrels), who I had heard about but never actually met. I wonder if
I should be happy or not about the turn of events.

A couple strolls in. The guy is stall with
brown hair and a slightly nerdy look. His eyes are brown and his
clothing posh-cool. For a moment I think that it is Harry, but the
cheek bones and the accessories are wrong. My chest clenches and I
find a tear forming.

"Earth to Sally. You ok, babe?"

Jack's finger poking my shoulder makes me
jump.

"Sorry?"

"You were spacing out," he says, looking a
little amused, perhaps not knowing about the break up with Harry
yet, as most of the staff do thanks to me harping on about it every
day of the week, a few times a day. "We have coffee to go out."

I notice the double espresso, latte and
cappuccino with cinnamon that are waiting. He loaded them onto a
tray, which means he is worried about me. They never do that unless
they think the server is likely to dump something on a customer or
the floor.

"I'm sorry. My mind is elsewhere today. I'll
take these out."

I grab them up and he nods in understanding
before turning back to the digital screen and clearing the orders
that I am picking up.

Walking out front into the small, packed
front area, I look to the couple just settling in and checking the
food menu. Harry, John Barrels, the waves I missed and a hard day
at the cafe. What a life.

SECRETLY WATCHING HIS BUTT IS NOT EASY.

The day is over, the customers gone and I am
trying not to (or should I say MOSTLY not to) watch Jack's ass
through the black slim jeans that he is wearing.

The damp wiping cloth that I have in my hand
goes round and round on the top of the table I am cleaning. It's
been doing that for a little too long now and I know that it's time
to do the next; however, this angle is just perfect.

Jack is moving along the counter fixing up
the cookie display. His butt cheeks are like two tigers rolling
around in full fight under the great sun burnt grass plains of
Africa - to put it metaphorically. His back tapers up under his
black shirt, which is a little tight for his large size, and I can
see the sides of it drawing up and out in a large V shape from
midback.

He glances back over his shoulder slightly
and smirks at me.

"Take a picture. It'll last longer," he
comments.

I nearly jump out of my skin. He can see me?
I quickly get to wiping, my face burning bright red under my strong
tan. How did he know?

Glancing up, I see it. The coffee machine
has a silver steel rim running around it. He would have been able
to see me from this angle from where he was standing.

"You want to tell me why you have been
spacing out today?" he asks, not turning as he continues his
work.

I think it over. What do I want to tell him?
I mean, it's pretty clear that I like what I see. Do I want to ruin
all hope of whatever might come of that by telling him that my
ex-boyfriend sat me down two weeks ago and in the politest way
possible told me it 'wasn't working out' and he wanted to 'move on
with his life', which was just an excuse for him to date Cindy, a
Russian girl from his university classes, who I actually feel isn't
that pretty, but is way smarter than me, which is something Harry
strongly prefers.

"I'm just having one of those days," I
say.

"Really? Doesn't seem like it."

My ear catches his tone. There's more than
just casual interest here.

"It could be because I was supposed to be
taking the day off, I guess. I'm not used to working
Saturdays."

"Aw, weekend got you down, huh?"

"You could say that."

He turns and leans back against the counter.
I note the way his chest pops out. My eyes briefly travel lower:
My, my, my, Mr. Barrels, do you have a six pack?

"What would you have rather been doing?"

"Surfing."

There's no other thing IN THE WORLD I would
rather be doing at any time, over any other activity, than
that.

"That's cool. I've never done surfed. I
don't get much free time with the other job."

"You have two jobs?"

He laughs.

"You think I make enough money on just doing
this one time per week?"

"Ah... yeah, good point."

Jack grins and I warm up a little inside.
You could describe it as the physical sensation of sudden
excitement in reaction to the direct stimulus of perfect white
teeth and good dentistry.

"I'm an intern at my dad's company."

"Wow, that's lucky. What does he do?
Anything fun?"

"Tax law mostly," Jack admits with a shrug
that says he doesn't feel one way or another about it.

I stop wiping the table I'm on to and lick
my lips. This is like chic-crack. The man is admitting to a 'sure
thing' job in an industry with HUGE earning potential and also
looks like he could bench press me with ease.

"That's interesting," I say, hoping to prove
a hypothesis that is forming in me rather quickly.

"Not really," he says with a small upward
jerk of the left side of his mouth that speaks volumes.

The conversation flitters off as he turns
back to tidying. I nod my head once in confirmation. It's certain:
Jack is interested in me.

My mind turns to the ramifications of this
fact. There's no way that a guy first takes an interest in my well
being, is pushy about inquiring over it (someone has obviously told
him about Harry it would seem), tells me that he's got a BIG paying
job in his future and THEN closes off the conversation to
INTENTIONALLY let me stew over it.

I check that butt. Alright, big boy, I've
had a few boyfriends and I'm not some virgin maiden. Let's see if I
can't stir something up here.

"Hey, Jack..."

"Yeah?"

"What are you doing after this?"

"I have some work to do for dad, but nothing
special."

"Oh... that's nice."

I clean the next table. That was the opening
strike. Will he respond?

A few seconds later he does.

"Why do you ask?" he says, after walking
around to finish cleaning the coffee machine.

I see he's done this before. The look in his
eyes tells of an experienced man. That's fine with me. I'm not into
guys who have no idea how to 'talk' to girls. With my looks I have
no shortage of men, young to old, chasing me; however, by-and-large
they don't have the experience with girls in my league to make for
anything more than a phone number and a free dinner. (Not saying
I'm a bad person who uses men here, but just that I don't give it
out like Christmas candy, alright. It's my body and I respect
it.)

"I don't know," I say. "I was thinking about
getting a beer and hitting the beach for a bit."

"That's cool. You need company?"

"I guess so. Don't you have work,
though?"

"It's paperwork. A quick beer and then
straight home won't be too much of a problem."

A quick beer? Ohhhh... That's so cute. He's
playing with my head a bit. I doubt when we get out there that Jack
will be pushing to get home straight away. Then again, I'm not 100%
sure. He's either keeping a nice balance here OR he's actually
serious. The confusion makes my heart beat slightly faster. Does
Jack like me or not? Is he just being friendly or does he have a
secondary objective? Ah, I'm trapped in this stud's web of pleasant
confusion. Perhaps I like that; perhaps I don't. We'll have to wait
and see.

Thinking over what 'might' happen takes the
better half of mopping the floor. Jack is working in the kitchen,
cleaning up after that slacker of a chef that we have and I have no
further opportunities to ogle.

"Finished?" he calls from out back as I put
the mop bucket into the small cleaning area sink and pour out the
water before flushing it out with a burst from the spray hose.

"Almost."

He puts his head out the doorway.

"You go get the beers and I'll do the cash
up," he says. "I drink expensive lager only. I'll reimburse you
later."

I chuckle. Making me - a hot girl - buy his
beer; this is getting fun again.

"Ok. Will you be paying for mine?"

"Do I look rich to you?"

"You did say expensive."

He doesn't even take time to think it
over.

"Get your own beer, babe. You have a
job."

I smile and pull off my apron, revealing the
tight black pants I'm wearing.

"Whatever you say," I tell him before
heading out the front door and across the road.

Glancing back as I cross, I note his eyes
following me with a small smile on his lips. He is quick to start
working with the register when he notes my glance. Knowing that
things are going somewhere interesting makes my pace quicken and my
thoughts turn to naughty things. I REALLY shouldn't be doing this -
and I know it - but losing Harry was a huge hit emotionally and I,
in all honesty, need to get him out of my head before I go nuts.
Therefore, my thoughts are that I'll play with Jack a bit (nothing
sexual) and then go home to watch surfing videos on the internet
before settling in to sleep and dream of the waves tomorrow on my
day off.

The transaction is quick. I choose a wine
spritzer for me and the only lager that they have, which is pretty
cheap but will do. When I get back, he is cleaning off his hands
and looking ready to continue our roles as man and woman playing
the 'whatever this is' game.

"You bought that?" he asks, noting the beer
in my hand.

"What? You said lager."

He raises an eyebrow.

"Yeah, but that stuff is pretty naff."

"Don't be such a little girl," I chide with
a chuckle. "It's just a beer."

He shakes his head.

"Beer is not just beer."

I lean over the counter.

"Does that mean you won't drink with
me?"

He shakes his head.

"No, it means we have to head past my place
to get something good."