Rachael Pt. 01

Amateur

My friends and colleagues like to tease me; call me ‘anal.’ I can remember a time when it was called ‘meticulous’ or fastidious.’ Gradually, it became ‘fussy’ (I think age determines that distinction) and gradually became ‘anal.’

That fastidious and meticulous nature of mine also helped in my first real after-school job at Pounders Restaurant. I was a dishwasher and busboy. According to the waitresses, I was the best. According to Mr. Gil and Mr. Todd, I wasn’t worth the paper it took to wipe my ass. But I made sure that every station had what they needed when they needed it, and did my best to anticipate their needs.

I liked my job at Pounders; except for the constant haranguing I got from Mr. Gil and Mr. Todd. Pounders hired nothing but women, ranging in age from eighteen to twenty four, to wait the tables, and dressed them in low cut blouses and short velvet skirts. The fishnet stockings and four-inch heels completed the ‘Meat and Tits and Ass’ package Pounders was selling.

I worked there from age eighteen to twenty two, while in high school and in college, before I became an insurance agent, then an insurance claims adjuster. But Pounders is where I met Rachael.

—-

Rachael was twenty when I started and had been working there for three years. It was rumored that she was actually from a very wealthy family and didn’t need the money, just worked because she wanted to. She was about five foot two, and around one hundred and fifty pounds. Her tits were huge, her waist nipped in nicely, then her ass and hips flared out tremendously. I would find out that the tits war forty double D (and were natural) and the hips were thirty-nine, while the waist was only thirty inches. Her short brown hair that reached to just below her jaw line and was cut straight across all the way around framed her round face. She parted it in the middle at that time, which was the style then. Her brown eyes were always smiling, as were her bright red lips. She flirted shamelessly with me from the moment I walked in and applied for the job.

Hell, ALL the waitresses flirted with me. I didn’t think it was because I was the coolest cat they’d ever seen, I knew it was because it made be blush and gave them a good giggle.

Mr. Gil began to drink nightly, and quite often smelled like he’d been drinking when he came in. This started after his wife left him. I could have told him that was going to happen. He was in his late forties when he married Jade, an eighteen-year-old waitress. Jade was about five foot ten, and about one hundred pounds. Her long blond hair and vacant look would have made her a great model, but she didn’t try to get a career; just decided to marry a man in his forties. She left him for an even older customer. That’s when Mr. Gil started to drink.

I had finished my rounds; the majority of the waitresses had already clocked out and was leaving. Mr. Gil was sitting at the bar, forlornly slugging back one bourbon after another. I went over to him and offered my condolences on losing his wife.

“Thanks Jim,” he slurred heavily.

“By the way, Mr. Gil?” I asked.

“Hmm?” he replied.

“Got any naked pictures of Jade?” I asked.

Mike, the bartender, smiled lightly. H e liked me and he and I could crack each other up with a good dirty joke every now and then.

“Nah, nah, don’t got any of those, fucking shame,” he slurred and finished his drink.

“Want to buy some?” I asked.

Mike smiled widely. Mr. Gil sat for a moment while that registered with him, and then lunged for me. I ran down the hall and out the back door with a drunken Mr. Gil in hot pursuit. He chased me around the parking lot for a good five minutes before I ran back in the back door and locked him out. His keys were sitting on the bar, next to his empty large rock glass.

I finished up my shift while he pounded on the back door until Mr. Todd let him in. Mr. Todd stopped him from seeking me out and hustled him into the small office they shared.

Rachael seemed to know when I would be most vulnerable to her teasing and would not let those opportunities pass her by. Once, when I had my hands full with the large garbage can, she reached out and smacked me on my ass hard. By the time I put the can down, she had run down the hall and with a giggle, strolled onto the dining area.

She knew I would not chase her out there, and would not do anything to her; there were paying customers out there and it would not be professional.

Another time, I was mopping the hallway and as I bent to wring out the mop, I felt a fingernail drag itself up my thigh.

“Hey!” I yelled, startled, only to have Rachael giggle and skip back out onto the dining area.

Once when I was in the stockroom, Rachael came in a few minutes later and pinned me against the shelves. A little feather kiss and giggle and she walked back out of the dimly lighted room.

“Oh, Jimmy?” she called out.

“Yes Rachael,” I squeaked.

“The ladies bathroom needs cleaning, could you be a dear and do escort ankara that, pretty please?” she called out.

I grabbed the mop, mop bucket, broom and dustpan and headed toward the bathroom. I knocked and there was no answer. I knocked a second time and still there was no answer. I opened the door and Rachael was standing there, flashing me her ample rump clad in bright red panties.

“Why, Jimmy!” she laughed. “Sneaking into the ladies room like that! You should be ashamed of yourself!”

“Sorry!” I gasped. “I knocked, but there was no answer!”

She lowered the hem of her dress, smoothed it out and made sure to give me plenty of direct contact with her tits as she brushed past me. I propped the door open and quickly swept the floor, which wasn’t really dirty, then mopped, checked the three stalls to make sure they all had paper, and cleaned the mirror while I waited for the floor to dry. It was while I was cleaning the mirror that I saw Rachael smiling widely at me.

“‘I love you,'” she mouthed in the reflection, blew me a kiss and with a giggle, she was gone again.

I blushed furiously every time I saw her for about a week after that.

Mr. Todd, with Mr. Gil intoxicated most of the time, took over the duties as head manager. He also took it upon himself to hire Crissi, an empty headed blonde with tits that rivaled Rachael’s. Unlike Rachael, though, Crissi fucked the short bastard.

I was cleaning the hallway when Crissi came out of the managers’ office, followed a moment later by Mr. Todd. The little bastard was smiling smugly and tucking in his shirt. I don’t know what made me do it, maybe I was jealous. He was only four years older than me, but was constantly riding me, constantly telling me I wasn’t doing my job well enough, but couldn’t ever give me specifics of what he expected, how I could improve. Or maybe I just felt like being a prick right back to him.

Anyway, with Crissi just a few steps in front of him, I called out, “Hey, Mr. Todd? Amber (we didn’t have an ‘Amber’ working at Pounders) said her syphilis test came back negative so she’s not really sure what it is but said to let you know.”

“What?” Crissi screamed. “What test?”

She was screaming so loud that Mike said he could hear her at the bar, at the bar was at the far side of the restaurant. Mr. Todd finally got her back into his office, but she quit that night, despite his denials of having syphilis.

This put me even further on Mr. Todd’s ‘Shit List,’ but for the cooks that were tired of Crissy’s constant screw-ups on the orders and the other waitresses that had to constantly take care of her customers while she took care of Mr. Todd, this little joke made me a ‘good guy.’

—-

“What you doing?” Rachael asked me as I was mopping down the galley; the prep area for the grill.

“Water skiing,” I said, as the drain in the galley didn’t work worth a damn and I wasn’t so much mopping as I was trying to soak up the excess liquid.

“You’re not dressed for it,” she commented.

“Sure I am, have my swim suit on underneath these jeans,” I said and turned around to blot some more of the greasy water.

“Let me see,” I heard, just as her hands grabbed my ass cheeks firmly. “Ooh, nice trunks!”

And with a giggle, she was skipping down the hallway to the dining area.

You have to remember, this was 1977; Sexual Harassment was unheard of. Well, not unheard of, but very few ever complained of it. And certainly no eighteen-year-old male would ever think of complaining that a sexy little waitress was grabbing his ass, flashing her underwear, or making lewd and suggestive comments.

The fact that I had a noticeable lump in my jeans made me blush tremendously when I finally finished mopping the galley and was returning the mop to the closet and saw Rachael standing there with a twinkle in her eye. She giggled and skipped out to the dining area.

“Sure you weren’t snow skiing?” she leaned over and asked me as I was clearing off a table. “Looked like you had a ski pole there.”

I broke two glasses in the rack and she giggled. I didn’t smile, though. I hated when I broke things, made mistakes of any sort. I set my jaw and ignored her as I did my work. I cleared off the five tables that were waiting and got the dishwasher going. —-

“We need Thousand Island,” Rachael cheerfully said as I did a quick inventory in the stockroom.

“Oh, okay,” I said and reached for a jar of it.

“Here, I’ll take it,” she said and pressed her large tits against my back and put her left arm around my front and pulled me to her.

Her right hand took the jar out of my hand and she lightly dragged her fingernails of her left hand across my middle. In 1977, it was fashionable to wear shirts and slacks very snugly. Thank God, by this time in my life, I could give a damn what’s in style or what’s fashionable or not, and opt for comfort over fashion. But In 1977, I opted for fashion. My belly fluttered and my cock strained as she slowly, sensuously dragged escort etlik her long, bright red fingernails across my polyester shirt.

I stood for several long moments afterward, in shock and extreme horniness. I had just about recovered when Rachael came back in, carrying the jar of salad dressing.

“My mistake,” she said. “It was Ranch, not Thousand Island.”

“Oh, okay,” I mumbled, blushing hotly. I reached for the jar and she giggled.

“Here, I’ll take it,” she said and leaned heavily into me, looking up into my eyes. She smiled wickedly, knowing that I was terminally shy (that’s why I blushed so easily) and didn’t have the guts to approach her or to stop her. She took the jar from my hand, leaned closer and lightly licked my lips with the tip of her tongue. Then with a giggle, she was gone.

I was eighteen, for God’s sake. This was a twenty one year old woman. That’s all it took for me to have a boner that would not go down for anything. I had to go to the bathroom and jerk off before I could return to the dining area to clear off what tables needed it.

The teasing and sexual tension was not limited to Rachael; there were seven waitresses on the schedule for the summer of 1977. Most of them were satisfied to just make the occasional innuendo or suggestive comment. Others were quite blatant about it.

I was busily mopping the women’s restroom, trying to get done as I still had the tables to dear, and those dishes to wash before I could leave for the night. Theresa walked in and dropped her panties to the floor and squatted on the commode.

“Hey!” I said in protest. “Do you mind?”

“Nope, not at all,” she said and spread her legs wide and urinated noisily, right there in front of me! She didn’t even bother to close the door to the stall! Then she made a big production of dabbing at her pussy and flushing the toilet. She kicked the panties off and twirled them on her index finger as she strolled over to the sink.

“That’s what I love about closing time,” she whispered to me. I can’t wait to get out of my panties!”

With that, she slipped the pair of pink satin panties into my shirt pocket and giggled as she walked out of the bathroom.

Theresa was a long legged red head with sagging tits. They needed a bra for support, but she seemed to have an aversion to wearing bras, and now I discovered she didn’t care for panties either.

But the length of the skirts the waitresses wore pretty much made panties a necessity, though. Bending over even slightly quite often exposed a hint of panties; bending over too much exposed quite a bit of rear end. Many of our repeat customers came mainly for the ‘floor show’ the short skirts offered.

Rachael strolled into the restroom a few minutes later and I very quickly retreated out of the restroom. I finished my shift and drove home, Theresa’s panties safely stashed in my glove box.

Patty, a long legged black girl with a sizable Afro hairstyle also loved to torment me. With the platform shoes I wore, I was pretty much at eye level with her in her four-inch heels. She was forever touching me, would lean in close to me and rub her breasts against me while talking to me. Once she took a long burgundy painted fingernail and circled my nipples through my polyester shirt. I swear, had she done that for another moment, I would have made a sticky mess in the front of my jeans.

But Rachael was the most formidable tormentor. And as I said, it was because I was just too damned shy to do anything about it.

And it was the same way with any woman I came in contact with. I would start off with resolve and cave in before long. With the male of the species, I had no trouble coming up with a quick comeback, a snide comment, or even an outright confrontation. But I was absolutely putty around women.

Rachael had me caving in before I even had formulated what my resolve was. The one thing she would do that weakened my will the most were her feather light kisses. She rarely missed an opportunity to brush her heavily painted lips teasingly close to mine, sometimes smudging my lips with her lipstick. My cock would jump to attention and I would blush furiously and she would giggle and skip off before I could react.

That was another thing; the waitresses were dressed in low cut blouses, short skirts, and four-inch heels, yet Rachael managed to skip in this attire.

“Ha ha, she got you wrapped around her little finger,” Juan, the short order cook would tease me.

“You know, Jimmy, maybe one day you’ll grow a set of balls,” Sid, the head chef would sneer at me whenever he would witness one of these shenanigans.

“Man, the girl likes you,” Mike the bartender shook his head and laughed as Rachael snuck up behind me as I was restocking his glasses.

I was bent over and felt her hot tongue at the back of my neck, but my hands were full and I couldn’t do anything about it.

“You ought to ask her out, you know,” Robin, the newest waitress said when she witnessed escort demetevler one of Rachael’s flirts.

I had the sugar and creamer packets out and was reaching for the bins to stock them. Rachael leaned forward, bit down on my forearm and I developed a raging erection as I felt her tongue swipe my bare skin. She had bit me hard enough to leave the dental impressions on my skin for a few minutes after she released my arm. But we were out on the service floor and I couldn’t raise a fuss.

Plus that, Mr. Gil was sitting right behind us, knocking back the bourbon. I’d already had him jump my case once that night, over a mess that Phil, one of the other dishwashers, had left behind when his shift ended.

—-

It all came to a head one evening, though. She’d pushed it a little too far, even for me.

“Hi Jimmy, what you doing?” Rachael asked, as I was stocking cans of cream of mushroom soup in the stockroom.

“Nothing, what you doing?” I asked

“I need some Italian salad dressing,” she replied

I frowned slightly at this; I could have sworn I just filled that container thirty minutes ago. Surely they’d not had that many people request Italian salad dressing; I would have noticed as I bussed the tables. Ranch, yes, thousand Island, maybe, but Italian should have been fine.

“I’ll get it in a second, ” I cheerfully said and squatted to get the last two cans out of the box I was emptying.

“No, you’re obviously busy, I’ll get it,” Rachael offered and reached over my head. She also lifted the him of her short skirt and flipped it over my head.

“Hey!” I cried out, suddenly plunged into darkness.

“Jimmy!” she exclaimed. “Are you looking up my dress?”

“No, I’m not,” I replied hotly and tried to maneuver away from her She laughed and pressed her crotch tightly against my squirming face.

“You know what?” I think we’re okay on Italian, maybe it’s Ranch we need,” she teased as I’d managed to scurry (not an easy task in platform clogs) and followed me to that section of shelves.

I stood up quickly to avoid another one of her skirt flips. She giggled at my hotly blushing face and lightly pressed her bright red lips to nine in a feather kiss. She then giggled again and quickly left the small stockroom. After a moment, I had recovered enough to get back to completing the job. But not quickly enough to please Mr. Gil.

“What the fuck are you doing?” he hollered at me. “I sent you back here thirty minutes ago with four fucking boxes! It shouldn’t take thirty minutes to unload four fucking boxes!” he screamed.

It had been ten minutes, not thirty, but he was well into his bourbon, so arguing was pointless. I broke the last of the boxes down and brought the flattened boxes to the dumpster. I then hurried back out into the dining area and cleared off the tables that needed clearing.

Rachael smirked at me but I did not respond. The twinkle left her eye and the smile left her lips. She followed me into the dishwashing area.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“Nothing,” I said hotly and quickly started the first load.

“Oh, okay,” she quietly said and left.

And that’s how it went for the next two weeks. She really had pushed it too far as far as I was concerned. I would clock in, do my job, do it well, but I made sure to pay attention to what was going on around me, to never be in a vulnerable position. If I was in the stockroom, the door was firmly shut behind me. If I was entering the ladies restroom, I would first rap politely, then knock loudly so that no one could claim that I didn’t knock loud enough. I wasn’t ever rude to anyone there, but I was coolly civil.

—-

“We need to talk,” Rachael said one night as I was throwing some flattened down boxes into the dumpster.

“Okay, talk,” I said and made sure my back was not to her when I picked up the next stack of boxes.

“I’m tired of us not being able to joke around like we used to,” she said and came a little closer to me. I stood up and glared at her.

“It’s not joking around,” I said hotly. “It’s you teasing me and tormenting me and making fun of me and I’m sick and tired of it.”

“Jimmy, I’m not making fun of you,” she said sadly and put a hand softly on my arm. “I like you, I like you too much to make fun of you.”

She leaned up and gave me a feather light kiss, turned around and went back inside. Before she shut the door, she looked back at me and said, “I wish you liked me again.”

If she had given me one of those kisses two minutes earlier, I might not have had the guts to tell her off like that. And the truth of it all was, I did like her. I spent quite a bit of time in my shower replaying certain little taunts and flirtations of hers as I stroked myself to a good load. I still fantasized about that time she’d flashed her bright red panties at me.

in my fantasy, I had the courage to reach out and pull them down. I buried my face in between those two magnificent globes of her ass and stuck my tongue as far into her hot brunette pussy as I could reach. I bent her over and make her brace herself against the double sink in that dingy bathroom while I plunged my cock into her from behind. Usually by this point, I was blowing a pretty good load down the shower drain.

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