2 comments/ 18762 views/ 8 favorites Backseat Serenade Ch. 01 By: garthburgandy Early afternoon sunlight lit up the quiet street I was driving down, bathing my dark blue car in relaxing warmth. The windows were lowered, letting the summertime air blow through the vehicle. My hair was being whipped around like a blender of brown hay, but my sunglasses were keeping it, as well as the sunlight, out of my eyes. I was blaring old school Chiodos through my speakers, giving the system a run for its money as I shamelessly sang along to "Two Birds Stoned at Once" at the top of my lungs. Thankfully, I was on time with the words, so anybody listening would've had a hard time determining between the actual song and my tragic warbling. I was on my way to pick up Lola, my best friend and fellow server at Michelle's, to drive us to work. We were already running a bit behind, so I tried to get there in record time. Lola and I had worked side by side for the past four years or so, and had grown quite close in that time. Nobody got me the way Lola did; she was like a little sister to me, even though we were pretty much the same age. Granted, a majority of our talks gravitated towards sex more often than not, which wasn't an issue I ever actually ran into with my real sister. "What's up, Russ?" She chimed as I pulled up next to her. Lola didn't even wait for me to park before she started climbing in through the passenger side window. "Lola, come on, watch the seats!" I hollered at her, swatting at her toes as she slithered into the seat. "It's not like they're real leather, dummy." Lola sneered at me and pinched the chair just to agitate me. "I know they aren't, but faux leather is a hot commodity right now so I wanna keep my supply in good condition." Like she had actually injured the seat, I licked my thumb and tried to smooth out the newly added creases. "For when the stock market crashes, or whatever, ya know?" Lola couldn't keep a straight face and let her glare give way to an entrained grin. "God dammit, you're weird. Funny, too, but weird as all hell." "Girls" by The 1975 came on next and I could practically feel Lola's radiating excitement. "I love this song, don't change it." Of course she loved it, every girl on Earth loves this song. Fellas, take note. "You know it's about sex, right, Lo?" Not letting her answer, I quickly cut to the change so she wouldn't avoid me. "Speaking of, how did things pan out with that guy last night?" The night before, most of the restaurant employees from Michelle's, the restaurant we worked at, had gone to a house party thrown by the head chef of a nearby restaurant called Stretches. Weird place, but they had a good group of guys working there. Other people heard about the jam and pretty soon the cramped house was densely packed with drunk, dancing patrons. I left a bit earlier than everyone else, around the time Lola met a spectacularly chatty guy named Ralph. The two of them seemed like they were hitting it off, so I expected them to go home together. Her disgruntled response told me the answer wasn't going to be pretty. "I didn't have sex with him." "Shit, the dry spell continues, huh?" "It was my fault, I was so drunk I felt like I was gonna black out for like an hour. I ended up sitting with Rookie and eating cupcakes until I sobered up." "How did Ralph take the news?" "Poor guy thought I was shooting him down, which I totally wasn't. I just felt like shit, but I was definitely gonna have sex with him. Probably...okay, we'll call it a firm maybe." Lola slowly rambled to herself out loud, a clear sign she was hungover. At last she took a breath and I jumped in. "You're lucky it's a Sunday, we won't be very busy." "Good, because I plan on taking a series of naps until my shift ends." She angled her seat back and tried to lie as flat as possible. "I can sleep on a sack of potatoes, right?" I let her get some rest while I chauffeured us to work, turning down the music so it wouldn't disturb my sleeping passenger. Lola and I have seen a lot of staff come and go from Michelle's in the time we'd been working there. Besides Davis, the head chef, nobody had been there longer than we had. The three of us were the most senior members of the restaurant, and operated like a close knit family. If it wasn't for Davis's dark skin and massive, intimidating frame, we would've actually looked like a family, too. Davis was one of the gentlest people I'd ever met, but he never backed down from a challenge, especially if somebody threatened one of his friends. A few years ago, he'd gotten a job for his friend, Rookie. None of us knew his real name, and I think most of us still thought it was Rookie. He'd been hired with no formal kitchen training, but Davis taught him everything he knew so his friend would turn into a spectacular chef. The bond between them was inseparable, and they even acted like separate sides of the same coin. Rookie was a bit of a loose cannon, and came to us fresh off of parole. We were all a bit nervous working with an ex-convict, but Davis promised us he'd make sure things worked out. A promise form Davis carries a lot of weight, so we gave Rookie a chance. That was over two years ago, and we now embraced the skinny, tattooed man with open arms. Besides our head chef and his assistant, we usually had two other cooks on the line as well. Tonight, I knew, had Garrett and Erica working with the salad station and the pizza oven. The two of them had joined our restaurant a little over 3 months ago, making them relatively new compared to us. Garrett was a great guy, often sneaking us slices of pizza whenever he had the chance. He was pretty young, fresh out of college when we hired him. He brought his girlfriend around sometimes to cook for her on really slow days, so I wondered whether or not we'd be seeing the redhead around tonight. I'd be lying saying that I spent time thinking about anybody as much as I did about Erica. Our first meeting had been so electrifying I had memorized her face from replaying the moment over and over again. Since I introduced myself to her six months ago, I'd made sure I spent as much time around her as possible. I'd stop by her station behind the line, the counter separating the open kitchen from the dining floor, to chat with her whenever I had a chance. Her dazzling, bright blonde hair stole my attention instantly. It fit perfectly with the subtle strips of light brown hidden amongst the golden locks, most of which was typically tied back in a bun or a ponytail to keep it out of her face. The chef uniforms at Michelle's weren't especially revealing, and left a lot to the imagination. Erica usually wore a light pink chef shirt, buttoned down the front, and loose fitting pants. I'd jokingly suggested that we should get more flattering uniforms, but the idea was quickly shot down by Davis and Rookie. Lola knew me well enough to notice when I wanted someone, so she made it happen. Last night, one of my fellow server threw a house party and invited the two new chefs. I cared more about seeing Erica that night than Garrett, but it would've been weird to not invite them both, considering how much of a team they were. Most nights of the week, they were working side by side. Because of this, the two of them had quite a closeness among them. If Garrett didn't have a girlfriend, he'd actually be stiff competition. That night, however, he didn't show up so I had an opportunity to talk with Erica for more than a few minutes. In fact, we talked all night. We grabbed a spot on the love seat in the living room and retired there with a bundle of drinks. Nobody interrupted us, nobody even came near us, for a couple hours. I got to know Erica more during that chat than I did from working with her for all this time. Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was the overwhelming craving I was fighting, and maybe it was just plain dumb luck, but that night I took Erica home with me. Well, not HOME, exactly. We actually didn't make it much further than my car before we were hungrily tearing each other's clothes off. "What the fuck is this?" Lola asked, placing her face to the window. In a nearby ditch, two cars had veered off the road and their drivers were arguing frantically. My passenger was glued to their argument, smiling fiendishly in the hopes they would fight each other. "I hope the little one punches the big one in the heart." "Jesus, Lo, that's messed up." I laughed. "Not really, the big one is wearing the most horrendous pair of green Crocs I've ever seen." Lola spat. "Split lips seem like a fitting punishment for wearing crocs." I said, my words dripping with thick sarcasm. At the mention of lips, Lola started licking hers incessantly. "You got any chapstick?" She asked, already reaching for the glove compartment. My heart beat nervously before my brain recognized the signals, and I reacted a moment too late. "No, Lo, not in there!" I flung my hand over the steering wheel to cover the button to open the compartment, but her finger lodged under my hand and pressed the switch. The drawer popped open and a small, blue ball came tumbling out, and I was unable to snatch it up before Lola grabbed it. Her mouth was hung open as she unrolled the cotton wad, slowly realizing what she'd stumbled upon. "Holy flaming hell, Russ, are these Erica's?" "He's wearing lime green crocs, he's basically asking to get decked." Her attention stuck to the fight for as long as it could until the two drivers disappeared around the corner. "At least a solid smack to the jaw, maybe a split lip would be nice." At the mention of a split lip, Lola asked me if I had any Chapstick. I directed her to the glove compartment, completely forgetting what I'd frantically stashed in there the night before. "Wait, not there, Lo!" As I expected, I was too late to stop her from stumbling onto the crumpled up, blue cotton ball. Silently, I cursed to myself and awaited Lola's impending criticism. Her eyes, and slack jawed stare, asked me everything her words couldn't manage to. "Whose are these?" They demanded wordlessly. "Look, I was going to tell you, I promise." Typical guy move; find a way out before we find a way forward. My passenger wasn't having any of it, opting to throw the underwear at me with a narrow eyed glare rather than endure my excuses. "You're supposed to tell me everything, Russell!" She exclaimed with a pout. "Like how you told me what happened that night with Derek Paulette?" My eyebrow involuntarily raised. She had never talked about the night she spent with the (self-proclaimed) voice of our generation. I mean, for a guy who wears Ed Hardy and douses himself in cheap drugstore cologne, he was surprisingly well-spoken and knowledgeable. Okay, that's a bullshit lie and we all know it. "You promised we'd never talk about that." Lola groaned in remembrance of that evening. "We fucked, that's all you're getting from me. No weird fetishes, no exotic pets, no leather wardrobe." "So NONE of the rumours are true? That's disappointing." "Besides, that's different." "How is that different?" "Derek is the scummiest fucker I've ever met, but you actually really like Erica, right?" Lola noticed my white knuckles glued to the steering wheel and eased up on her accusations. "You okay?" "I'm fine, just-." I drew a deep breath and felt the stale, mucky air scrape away from my lungs. "Nobody knows, and we haven't talked since last night. I don't know if we're even friends anymore, but I'm hoping I didn't fuck that up." "People are gonna find out sooner or later. With your shameful history of keeping secrets I really don't think this one is going to be an issue for too long." Lola smirked teasingly and reached for her purse. "Gum?" I refused and she shrugged, placing a small, white square between her teeth and crushing it. I sat in silence for a few seconds, stewing in the words she let hanging in the air. She could tell I was about to crack, it was only a matter of time. "I can keep a secret." I grumbled, trying to convince myself. "I know tons of 'em." "Is that true?" Lola gave me a massive grin. "Any examples, big talker?" A smarter person would've remembered how well Lola knew me, but I wasn't a smart person by any means. Hoping to throw her off, my mind leapt to extremes to dupe her. "What's my favourite sexual position and why?" There was a confident vibrato in my voice that my friend was quick to stifle. "Doggystyle, of course." She began. I didn't let her knew she was right; this girls ego was inflated enough as it was. "Now for the 'why'...oh, I remember!" "Really? I don't." "That's because you were drunk off your ass when you told me." Lola fed me a subtle wink. "You like being able to spread a girls ass apart while you fuck her, right?" She wasn't even looking at me to see if she'd gotten the answer, keeping herself busy by pantomiming the action she'd just mentioned. I wasn't as shocked by the performance as I was by its realism; only enhanced when Lola licked her fingers and pretended to tickle her imaginary lover from below. Her enthusiasm was bewildering, but l let her continue uninterrupted for the sake of the joke. My day didn't look it was going to get much weirder, but I was pleased to find that this was only a prelude of what I was in for. **** We pulled up behind the restaurant and I parked next to TreeBolt, a large oak tree so powerful it'd withstood being hit by lightning a few years prior. Sure, a couple branches were scorched off, but the tree itself stood strong. "Looking strong today, Bolty." Lola called to the tree. "For the last time, if we all give him different names we'll sound like psychos every time we try and talk to him." I insisted, tucking my shirt into my pants and adjusting the ruffles as best I could. "We need uniformity." "Oh, come on, he doesn't care." Walking up to the tremendous oak, Lola slapped its bark like the two of them were frat buddies. "Besides, people think we're insane anyway. We're talking to a tree, for fucks sake." "Don't listen to them, TreeBolt the Wise, you're more than a tree to us." Coincidentally, that was the moment I realized we probably sounded wildly insane talking to that tree. Another car rolled in beside us, choking out gas clouds like a cheap chain smoker. "Afternoon, kiddos!" A raspy voice entered the conversation. "Hey, Rookie, what's up?" I called over to the thin, bony chef. "Not much, not much. Just getting psyched up for a great Sunday." He was fumbling through the mound of newspapers in the backseat of his car, frantically searching for his set of knives. With a triumphant cheer, he pulled a black case from the vehicle and held it close to his chest. "Hey, baby, I was afraid I lost you." "Yeah, because that'd be the first time you ever did that." Lola said. "Hey now, my attention span might be shot but I still love these babies with all I got." "Was that supposed to rhyme?" I asked. Rookie thought back over his sentence and smiled when he caught his momentary lapse into Dr. Seuss territory. "Happy coincidence, I suppose. TreeBolt looks good today, eh?" I mouthed the words 'told you' at Lola and she rolled her eyes apathetically. "Guess those steaks you've been feeding it really helped, huh?" She said, finally entertaining out enthusiasm with TreeBolt. "Trees don't eat meat, fool." Rookie ran his hand over his bald, tattooed head and gave a defeated sigh. "It's a tree, which makes it a vegetarian, duh." He and I strolled off and left Lola to catch up with us, looking like a kid who was seconds away from a tantrum. "I hate you guys!" She yelled after us. "Just because I don't play your stupid games doesn't mean I don't get them!" Further around the back of the restaurant, we stumbled upon Davis puffing happily on joint pinched tightly between his fingers. It looked like he'd just started it, and he handed it to Rookie as he sat down beside the head chef. Understanding the relationship between the two of them was a bit of a puzzle. Whenever they talked to anyone but each other, at which point they'd use so much slang their words became unrecognizable, they bounced the conversation back and forth between each other like it had been rehearsed. Never before had I seen two people operate on such a similar wavelength, and sometimes it actually blew me away. "What's good, everybody?" Davis bellowed, releasing a pent up burst of smoke. "The little ones are inside prepping for dinner and we got less than 15 reservations." He was referring to Garrett and Erica as the 'young ones'. It wasn't often we had less than twenty reservations, but Sunday's were inconsistent in their popularity. "Davis, I know you aren't gonna make me ask you to share that." Lola pleaded. The two chefs looked at each other skeptically, making sure to keep the joint out of reach of the eager little stoner. "What do you think, Rookie?" "I don't like it, not one bit." Rookie shook his head wildly, like he couldn't say no enough times. "And why's that?" "Because every time we share our weed with her, bad stuff happens." "Mmhmm, and what bad stuff happens?" "Lemme tell you what bad stuff happens, my friend." "Come on, now, lemme hear it." "This girl, this one right here-." Rookie handed the joint back to Davis, but kept his eyes trained on Lola. "This one right here?" Davis acted especially dense to bog down the conversation and bug Lola. "Yessir, this one right here. Every time she gets her hand on some kush she goes and oversells all the fancy dishes when she gets too excited, AKA too hungry." "Remind me one time, Rookie, why do we hate the fancy dishes?" "They're hard as shit to make." "You're goddamn right, son. Here's your reward." The joint was passed back to Rookie, now burnt down about half way. Their rant ended, but it took a moment for Lola and me to clue into that. Even after years of working with them we still had a hard time deciphering them completely. "Fine, I won't sell the specials unless people ask. I'll push everyone to order mac and fucking cheese." She glared at them, daring the chefs to refuse her further. With a unanimous shrug, they relinquished the drugs. "Push salads instead, okay?" Davis requested. "That way Erica can make em' and we can make food for you bottomless vacuums." I didn't even have to bother directing the conversation towards Erica. Rookie opened the door and motioned for me to go inside. "Before you ask where she is." Lola and Davis erupted in a fit of laughter, but I could only muster a weak, sarcastic chuckle. The interior of the restaurant had a modern, semi-casual atmosphere about it. Hardwood floors, mandatory all black dress code for the serving staff, and overpriced wine made Michelle's what it was destined to be. The kitchen was open, looking out over the main dining floor. The salad station, where I knew Erica would be, was placed by the front door and the hostess stand. Around the corner from the front door was a lounge and a bar, where the staff spent most of the time chatting. There were more families in the area than there were hard drinkers, so the bar mainly stayed unused save for the occasional sports fans looking to catch the game with a hot meal and a cold brew. I used to love coming in to work, but that changed when I met Erica. Let me rephrase; work was great, hell even LIFE had been great, but after meeting Erica I saw how much better it could all be. Now every time I came into work on days when I knew I wouldn't see her felt like a waste of time if it couldn't be spent together. Maybe I sounded crazy, and I guess TreeBolt's existence would be a healthy testament to that, but there was a spark in Erica that I couldn't escape. Backseat Serenade Ch. 01 As I expected, Garrett and Erica were hurriedly getting their respective stations ready for the night. Even in her rush, Erica was breathtaking. The way her brow was drawn together and closely knit when she was determined to do something stood out the most. Right now, for example, she was busy rooting through a drawer of lettuce and trying desperately to pick out the rotten pieces. An easy task, sure, but Erica had her eyebrows knitted together in concentration. Maybe she didn't notice it, which would mean she also didn't notice she had her lips folded under her teeth and her nose was flaring steadily with her rapid breathing. "Everything okay over here?" I asked with a cheesy smile, knowing it was too late to erase my cheap smirk without looking like I had suddenly remembered something awfully depressing midsentence. Whether it was the allure of rifling through old lettuce, or simply nerves, something stopped Erica from acknowledging me. Garrett, on the other hand, approached the counter and rested his arms on it. "Hey, Russell. What's going on?" "Nothing much, man. How about you?" I was leaning to look past him by a couple inches, unwilling to break my line of sight with Erica. Before he could answer, I cut him off. "Is it okay if I talk to Erica for a second?" He looked behind him to get the go ahead from Erica, who had stopped cutting vegetables and was now staring intently down at the chopped red peppers. She gave a slight nod and Garrett sighed, tossing a rag over his shoulder and raking his fingers through his thick, blonde hair. "I'll be mixing the Cesar dressing if you need me." He said, squeezing Erica's shoulder. Again, all she could do was nod. The line cook disappeared into the back prep kitchen and I walked around the counter to join Erica. To my dismay, she still seemed too shy to start a conversation with me, so I took the lead. "Hey." "Hey." She mumbled back, tucking a blonde and brown piece of hair over her ear. "You need any help?" I offered, picking up a knife and scraping the blade against my finger, pretending like I knew how to tell if a knife was sharp or not. "Don't you need to open?" She sounded mildly disappointed for a second. "Lola can handle it, I wanna help you." I flicked my finger over the point of the knife, promoting Erica to finally snatch it away from me with a worried glare. "These knives are pretty sharp, sweetness." She said dangling it between her fingers like a prize and shooting me a devilish smile. "Wouldn't want you to cut yourself." "Why are you so worried about me?" I raised an eyebrow. Erica slammed the knife down on the cutting board. "I'm not worried about you, shut up." She turned away in a failed effort to hide her obvious blush. Her fingers grasped the knife and slid it across the counter a foot or so. "You wanna help, then cut these black olives." I picked up the blade and reached into the large jar of round, black olives to pull out a handful. Shaking off the olive juice and dabbing my hand on a nearby rag, I proceeded to slice each plump oval into two juicy halves. "Kind of weird we don't just buy them pre-cut, right?" I said, trying to make small talk. "Not sure, ask Michelle." She answered without so much as a glance in my direction. I knew her peppers weren't really that engrossing, but I let the silence dangle. Erica was slicing through the crisp, red vegetables with determination. At first I thought I thought it was weird that I noticed she was handling the knife differently than usual, more recklessly. Then I realized it was probably weirder that I spent so much time around her I even knew her cutting techniques. I tried to bring the conversation back to life by starting with something simple. "So, who's closing for you guys tonight?" I asked, making her jump slightly as my voice broke the quietness. "I am." She replied, looking unsure if she was going to continue with more. "What about you and Lola?" "Well, I think Lola is scheduled to close," I was interrupted by the soft, disappointed sigh that escaped her lips for a brief moment. "But she's really hungover so I think I'll end up taking her shift." Whoever was picked each night to do the close had to stay back later to shut down all the stations, clean them, and reset the dining room for the next night. Only one chef and one server had to stay each night, and it was looking like it was going to be me and Erica. "So, you're stuck with me tonight, huh?" Erica smiled coyly. "Lucky me." I paused and gave her a sideways glance. "Or rather, lucky you." That finally got a laugh out of her, but it was a short one. Her mood seemed to pick up after that point and she became more talkative, still becoming shy whenever I brought up last night. I cut through all the olives, finally, and handed them to Erica in a bowl. To my surprise, and dismay, she started chuckling to herself like a Dad after a bad pun. As my bad luck would have it, Michelle rounded the corner to catch Erica laughing to herself while I stood dumbfounded holding a knife dripping with salty, black olive juice. "What the hell are you two doing?" Michelle demanded. Her red hair, formed into a low crew cut, perfectly accented the short, red hot temper she displayed on nearly every shift I worked with her. Not that it was my fault, exactly, as I knew other servers had the same experience. The disturbingly muscular woman had on an inquisitive, playful smile. She turned to Erica and reached out a hand for the bowl. Peering inside, she saw it was full of sliced olives. "Did you make him cut these?" "Yes, Chef." Erica admitted, standing straight up with her arms behind her back. Now, the stocky fireball turned to me and held out the bowl. "What do you see here?" "Uh, olives, Chef." I nervously replied. I wasn't afraid of Michelle, rather, I never knew how to gauge her emotions, so if she was kidding with me I could never tell. "Olives cut in half, Russell. Why did you cut these?" She asked with one bushy eyebrow arched high on her forehead. "You know we have these already sliced, in jars, in the back." She didn't form it as a question, because she didn't need an answer. I stood motionless, already secretly plotting to get Erica back for embarrassing me in front of the Chef, and making me cut four enormous handfuls of olives. Right before she left, Michelle put down the bowl of olives and grabbed a rag off the table to wipe her hands with. "I hope whatever you did to upset her is over with now, for both your sakes. Clear?" "Yes, Chef." I said with over enthusiastic loudness. Michelle turned to Erica and narrowed her glare. "Clear, Erica?" "Yes, Chef." She squeaked out, biting back a grin. The Chef rolled her eyes and trudged out of the kitchen, whistling a song to herself that I recognized that sounded like Kids by MGMT. Brushing off how weird it was that she even knew a song like that, I immediately walked over to Erica. "Sometimes I think the Chef is crazy, genuinely crazy." I muttered, picking an olive half from the bowl and flicking it at Erica. "Also, fuck you for all of that." "Now we're even. You get to have sex with me, I get to embarrass you in front of the Chef." She claimed proudly. It was the first time she mentioned sex to me since last night, and I think she caught on to that. "Oh, anyway, I almost forgot to tell you I made croissants, with butter and rosemary melted onto it." Food registered in my eyes and I ignored anything else, scrambling to get one of Erica's homemade baked goods before they were gone. I snatched a croissant out of the bakery box, fighting the urge to grab a handful, and took a bite. It melted better than I thought it would, coating my taste buds in a delicious bite of fat and carbs. Pieces of rosemary were sprinkled on top, but I was too distracted with the taste to notice one of them stuck dangling on my lip even after I finished chewing. "You missed something, clumsy." With an adorable grin, Erica reached out and bumped it off with her thumb. She paused for a second longer than she needed to, and we both felt it. Her finger slowly made its way down my bottom lip, Erica's eyes locked on my mouth with an obsessive stare. I kissed her using every fibre of my body to summon the courage. She reacted with a small gasp and began blushing like a rose, easing her tensed muscles down to puddles that melted into my arms, wrapped around her like a protective vice. Her tiny hands clutched onto the collar of my shirt, grappling her body against mine in case I had any inclination of letting her go, which I sure as hell didn't. In the instant our lips collided I was thrown back to the night before, as if kissing Erica again loosened the dam enough to let the vivid memories come flooding back. We both paused in the same statuesque fashion, demanding not to be torn apart. The memories combing back to me were so powerful I couldn't resist the urge to subject myself to their picture perfect recollection of the events of last night. Our kiss couldn't have lasted more than a few seconds, but it only took a couple to dislodge me from the present and recall how my first kiss with Erica felt. *** "Come on, loser, you're falling behind." Erica cheered, clutching her red cup with one hand and dancing seductively to the upbeat music. "Let's be fair, my drinks are twice as strong as yours." I protested. "To be REALLY fair, actually, I'm like half your size and still drink more than you." She raised her arms aggressively and lunged at me a few inches. I wasn't having any of it, grabbing her as she jumped at me and pulling her to the floor. She was in a slightly ruffled blue skirt that, oddly enough, wasn't built for wrestling. It was hiking up slightly and, in our struggle, I felt my fingers brush against the incredibly softness of Erica's legs. Now, I'm not a legs guy by any means, but I'd be lying if I said my heart didn't start racing at the mere touch of her skin. We screamed playfully, unfazed by what other people would think while I balanced on my hands and knees over top of Erica. The fraction of a smile i extracted from her made the entire shitty day worth it, as it always did when I was blessed with a glimpse of the breathtaking display. She was breathing short and heavy, as was I, but quickly returned her attention to a more pressing matter. "Shit, Russell, you spilt my drink!" She cried, checking her cup with careful precision while I brushed myself off. By the grace of God, it turned out Erica had only spilt a few shot glasses worth of booze. "Looks like you need another then!" I stood up and offered a hand to my friend still on the ground. With one pull I raised Erica to her feet and we hustled our way to the kitchen to find more alcohol. Patience was lost on Erica as she grabbed the first bottle she saw, pouring a healthy shot of Prince Igor for the two of us. Off on a separate counter I saw Captain Morgan and fixed myself a shot of that instead. "Why won't you drink vodka with me?" Erica half-whined. "I don't trust liquid I can see through, it's like it's pretending to be something it's not." I offered as explanation, afraid to admit my aversion to vodka was based on past (puke related) incidents. "Like what, for example?" Erica asked. "Like this Igor is pretending to be Grey Goose? Don't be ridiculous." I swear, my eyes were gonna displace themselves if I kept rolling them so hard, but drunken Erica said some outrageous stuff. For instance, her next sentence; "I love vodka, I just wish it didn't make me so horny." My jaw was almost certainly, irreversibly unhinged as I took a moment to let my brain assess the situation. Erica, evidently, also needed a second to register what she'd said, clamping her hand over her mouth when it finally clicked. "I'm so sorry, that totally just slipped out." Truth be told, I didn't care, and I don't think many guys on earth would. I cared even less when Erica turned the bottle upside down, revealing the empty state of its pungent smelling contents. "All gone, and that's all I brought." "Well, I've got some Crown Royal in my car we could split." After going over so many different ways of asking this girl out in my head, I thought I would be better protected from the nerves of asking her out. The idea looked like it sparked a thousand thoughts behind Erica's eyes, and I wanted to explore all of them. She accepted my invitation and we headed out to where I was parked, both shaking with such anxiety that we probably looked like vibrating holograms walking through the parking lot to my car. We reached it and I opened the rear door for Erica, surprised I remembered to be a gentleman with all the liquor pumping through me. She gleefully leapt into the car head first and sprawled out on the back seats, taking up all the space and lying down with her eyes closed. "Tired?" I said in a defeated tone, wondering if I'd just lead her here for a place to crash. "Nope!" She surprised me with a chirp. "Just taking in the comfort level of these seats. Faux leather is so in right now." "It totally is, isn't it? I should tell that to Lola, she's always talking shit about my car." I grumbled, unable to maintain my grumpy face in the presence of Erica's upbeat attitude. "Let's not talk about Lola right now, okay?" She pleaded, keeping her hands resting on my shoulders as I leaned over top of her. I was kneeling on the seat now, my hands placed behind Erica's head on the seat, and my eyes locked with hers. I didn't even realize I was holding my breath, and barely had enough left to whisper "Okay" to Erica. Holding myself up with one arm, I fumbled around under the seat looking for the bottle of alcohol I promised Erica, but stopped when her hand came to a gentle rest on my cheek. My inquisitive look must've given away my sense of confusion. "You okay?" I asked in a low, quiet tone. The aura of the car felt like it had dropped a notch from fun to serious in a matter of seconds. Faintly, I could feel Erica's pulse through her thumb racing just as fast as mine was. Her finger traced down the side of my cheekbone, down to the corner of my mouth until she paused at my chin. "Your eyes look really good from this angle." She said, half to me and half unconsciously to herself. My gut twisted up like a pair of shitty Apple headphones, and I had to swallow the massive lump in my throat to choke out, "You look beautiful from every angle." There was enough sexual tension built up in the car that my comment passed as decent conversation etiquette, as opposed to the cheap pick up line it should've sounded like. Erica lifted her head from the seat and brought it a few inches from mine. "Is this angle good too?" "Even better." I played along, simultaneously bringing my face close so close to hers that our noses touched. She jumped for a second as they did, taken aback by the cold touch. I knew it wasn't my fault my extremities were turning cold; all the blood in my veins was rushing somewhere else. The thick dizzy spell my head was suffering from was making it hard to continually make decisions I wouldn't regret the next morning. Even through that cloudy haze I knew I wanted this. I wanted to kiss Erica despite every warning the butterflies in my stomach were giving me. When I finally gave up and kissed Erica, it felt like I'd put my mind at perfect peace for a single, beautiful moment. Even though I'd never done so much as hold her hand before this, our kiss felt all too familiar. My arms didn't need any command to move, acting on instinct as they left the seat and travelled up to her waist. I didn't get the impression that Erica was going to resist much, but I was still cautious not to move too fast. Her hands were glued to the back of my head, fingers tangled in my hair and sending lightning through my scalp as she massaged it gently. The wasn't much room left in me for patience, and my hands showed my eagerness in full as they scrambled to undo the buttons on Erica's shirt. She started laughing midway through our kissing, which usually isn't a good sign, and turned her head to the side so I'd lift myself up a bit. "They're snaps, dummy." She giggled. I whined inwardly when her hands stopped their massage, but felt instantly happy again when they grabbed either side of her shirt and tore it open, removing it and dropping the crumbled ball onto the floor. Maybe it was the alcohol causing me to see dizzy, but her breasts wobbled back and forth so energetically I thought I was looking at two globes of creamy white, jiggly jello. "Better, right?" She asked with a smirk. Cocky attitude aside, I could tell by Erica's bright red blush that she wasn't as confident as she appeared to be. The sudden rush of reality; I was making out with one of my best friends, who I happen to work with every day. "Wait, Erica, hold on." I urged her, pulling back against her hands gripping onto my shirt collar. "We work together, I'm going to see you in, like, sixteen hours." "So?" She whined, impatiently kissing my neck. I'd never seen this side of Erica, and I couldn't believe any part of me was against seeing the rest. "So don't you think this is gonna be weird when I see you tomorrow?" Amid her fury of kisses, my resistance was starting to become something of a lost cause. Until now I hadn't noticed they Erica's bra opened in the front, but I took note as soon as her fingers diligently opened the clasp. The cups stayed covering her chest, during me to move them before she said I could. "I'll tell you what, Russell." She smiled devilishly. "You can stop now, if you want, and tomorrow we'll tell everyone I threw up in your lap and you drove me home. No mess, no fuss." "I think the saying is 'no muss no fuss'." I immediately scolded myself for that one. "What the hell is muss? That's ridiculous, you're ridiculous." She shook her head and gave me another kiss, taking me by surprise. As she pulled away she kept a hold on my bottom lip for a few second before letting it go and mashing her lips against mine again. "What's the second option?" I asked feverishly, nearly certain I wasn't going to choose the first option. "The second option is much more fun, and involves you seeing me at work tomorrow. But when you do, you have to remember to tell me what a killer lay I am." She said with an intriguingly innocent look. Oh yes, I was choosing option two. With a heartbeat as loud as thunder, I took a hold of both sides of Erica's bra and threw them aside. She gasped sarcastically, finishing with a quiet "ta-da" as I attempted to jumpstart my brain. A couple of seconds passed before the initial shock passed over me, and I was powerless to stop my overwhelming desire to get familiar with Erica's chest. They felt exactly how I imagined they would, only a thousand times better. No mental construction could compare to the breathtaking softness of those two glorious, round orbs. My hands grabbed onto one each and squeezed them until breast meat was pulsing through my fingers. Erica moaned a breathy sigh of content as I moulded her tits like soft dough. My eye were wide with fascination as I toyed with her breasts, manipulating them to put her in a dazed state, smiling happily with her eyes closed. I didn't know how I hadn't noticed before, given that they were so hard, but Erica's nipples were now poking aggressively into my palm. Erica's tits flattened with gravity when I let them go, making it look like two huge, jiggly pancakes had settled on her chest. Topped with two of the most magnificent nipples I'd ever seen. The pink nubs squished like tiny jelly beans under my finger, eliciting gleeful moans from Erica. Like two radio knobs, I twisted and pulled the stiff buttons. Her areolas were as large as a two dollar coin, and the twin caps stood out like brilliant, ruby beacons against her creamy white skin. Backseat Serenade Ch. 01 Every small tug got a different reaction from her, whether it was a groan or a gasp, I loved them all the same. I was having such a great time experimenting with how sensitive Erica could get that I completely neglected the rest of her. Lucky for me, I had been doing a good enough job that Erica even seemed pleased I'd gotten so carried away with playing with her. "Done yet?" She asked coyly, trying to pull off the nonchalant look, but failing miserably. "Not quite." I said, barely casting a glance towards her face as I selfishly distracted myself with her tits. I let one hand wander away, resting it further down by her waist as I leaned in and planted a quick kiss on Erica's tummy. I felt the softness of her thin peach fuzz against my lips and shuddered, riding out the waves of intense ecstasy while increasing the intensity of my kisses. I was trailing up her stomach, nipping playfully at her skin the higher I rose. Her panting was noticeable, tummy contracting faster as she grew more impatient. "God dammit, you're a fucking tease." She squealed, wrapping her legs around me and tightly pulling my pelvis into her. All of a sudden I was surrounded by Erica's arms as well, now convinced she was trying to keep me from every pulling away. I committed to the position, wondering how far Erica was going to to until she got what she wanted. Sticking my tongue out to trace a path up to her nipple got her to relax, but I knew it was only due to anticipation. Once my tongue flicked against the leathery bump, I circled around it and sucked it into my mouth. A low, concentrated hum started coming from Erica, encouraging my rougher treatment of her nipples. My teeth grazed over it lightly, pinching it just enough to pull it away from her chest and lifting her boob. I released it and the heavy mound plopped back down, moving like a freshly disturbed pool as it rippled about. My interest with her breasts weren't done yet, and I continued squeezing one while I nursed the other one. Once I had a hold of her nipple, I sealed my lips around it and battered it with my tongue, flicking like a snake against the rubbery surface. Thanks to the attention on her chest, Erica hadn't noticed my free hand steadily making its way down between her legs. The heat emitting from her was undeniable, and my hand moulded tightly to the warm mound. I pressed a finger against her slit with a little more pressure, tracing the path her panties took through the lips of her vagina, trapped between the folds like blue, lacy floss. The thin g-string did nothing to hide how wet she was, and the sticky honey gathered easily on my finger. Over her panties, I made quick contact with her clit and approached it timidly. The tiny nub was hard enough I could feel it easily through her underwear, making it easy to tell my fingers where to go. Her already rapid breathing increased tenfold as I tediously pulled her panties to the side. I thought she was wet before, but I'd only cracked the surface. My fingers slid smoothly through Erica's lips, keeping her clit tightly trapped between my first and middle finger as I rubbed her up and down. Erica braced herself against both of the back seat car doors with her arms and legs, but I wasn't entirely certain she'd done it on purpose. Her eyes were closed, and her eyebrows tightly knitted together as I slowly pushed the first knuckle of my middle finger into her. She was miraculously wet, so I didn't have much resistance to fight through. After wiggling my finger around for a moment I found it even easier to fit the length of my finger inside of her, quickly followed by a second addition. The walls of Erica's vagina were soft as silk, happy to tightly encase my fingers like plastic wrap. Patience broke away and suddenly my fingers weren't enough for her; Erica needed more. Before I knew it she was bearing down with her hips, using every ounce of drunken energy she had to grind on my fingers. My palm pressed against her clit, initially by accident, but I soon found that rotating my hand in rhythm with my fingers was curling Erica's toes. I repeated the pattern over and over again until it felt automatic. I couldn't wait any longer to get Erica naked, and I knew in her heightened state of bliss I'd get no arguments from her. In a flurry of rushed movements I had Erica's legs up over my shoulders, and had begun tugging impatiently at her underwear. She giggled softly, lifting her butt as high as she could so I could pull it out from under her. The thin, blue fabric peeled off her pubic mound reluctantly. Up and over her legs, I tossed her underwear into the front seat and disregarded it. I started to drift lower between her legs, but Erica was quick to grab the sides of my head and coax me back to eye level, impulsively kissing me with a wild hunger. "Shy?" I taunted, biting at her bottom lip and trapping it lightly between my teeth. "Impatient, if you must know. Now get those ugly pants off." She was fiddling with my belt in a frustrated hurry, drunkenly kicking at my pants in an failed effort to remove them. "Shirt too, if you please." "Glad we're being so formal." I had the upper hand, and I knew it, so I played into it a little. "You think these pants are ugly?" In her rush, I wasn't quite sure if she could pick out the joking nature of my voice. "I think you could find a pair that better accents your...lower half." She said, one hand slithering between my legs with intrigue, as she continued to tangle with my belt loop. "A little help here, please?" With all the helpless desperation in her voice, I couldn't help but lend her a hand. She squeaked giddily as I reached down and held the button in place so she could loop the hole around it. "Thanks, cutie." She chirped, giving me another kiss and holding her lips against mine, nibbling slightly on me as she hummed happily to herself. Never before had Erica been so forward with her affection, but I was eating it up like candy. Her toes caught my waistband between them and they were kicked off with a series of foot flicks. My pants bunched up around my knees and I flung them off the rest of the way myself. She cheered and clapped excitedly, locking her feet behind me when she figured I wasn't close enough to her. In my eyes, Erica was the picture perfect image of an amateur pornstar. Her dress was scrunched around her torso, leaving her breasts uncovered and swaying side to side, pushed together between her arms. Her legs, whiter than untainted clouds and so smooth they looked like a peaceful morning lake. My hands ran up her irresistibly soft skin like it was calling out to me, settling the tingles in the back of my scalp by sprouting goosebumps over my forearms. "Fuck, Erica." I mumbled, my mouth was too disconnected from my brain to form further coherent sentences, but she understood just the same. "I know, baby, just kiss me." She encouraged, digging her heels into my butt and inching as close to me as she could. The hardon raging between us was looking for attention, no longer satisfied with being left unattended. "Somebody feels left out, hmm?" Her adorable voice rang endlessly in my ears, giving me a strange sense of calm despite the nerves I was surging with. The strange combination of adrenaline and serenity was causing two sides of my psyche to pull in opposite directions, piquing when I felt two small, tender hands wrap around me. What at first started as timid exploration quickly grew bolder the more familiar Erica became with my cock, tracing her fingers up and down the length until I was straining under her artful teasing. The nimble digits enthusiastically navigated my dick, spending time getting to know each part of it. Erica dug her fingers softly into my balls, pulling gently on them and dragging her nails across the fleshy orbs as she released them. My heart fluttered as she spat into her hand, cupping my balls and massaging the warm, gooey lube into them. It felt like my balls were drowning in her saliva, but that didn't stop her from adding more. This time, however, she applied the load onto the head of my cock, twisting her palm around the shiny bulge like a corkscrew. Every time one hand left my cock to gather more lubricant, the other would stay faithfully stroking me like a well-timed machine. Whether it was for my enjoyment or to sedate her own intrigue, nothing was stopping Erica from tightly gripping my cock, even for a second. Her breath was racing as fast as my heart was beating, escaping through the tiny opening her mouth was making, resembling something akin to fascination. When I finally couldn't take any more, when I finally thought relief would never come, I felt her whole hand grab hold of my dong and guided it through the lips of her pussy, spreading the luscious, pink petals apart. I felt the tip of my cock momentarily lodge in the mouth of her dripping cave, but she popped me back out in the instant I pushed forward, sending the throbbing pole against her clit like a battering ram. Erica's ground against me with her hips, letting me teeter on the edge of sanity until I thought I would crack. Erica knew how tight she was, and had made sure to coat my dick in enough of her honey that I'd be able to slide into her easily. All her concentration in the last two minutes had shifted from our kissing, and she'd unknowingly lost the ability to multitask. Like before, I sunk a few into the shallow opening to her steamy fuck pocket before I had to pause. She tightened up and I gracefully pushed back and forth until she stated to relax. The aura in the car changed; no longer were we savagely pawing at each other and excitedly sucking face, but were now silent as we focused on getting me as deep into her as possible. Her hand was still loosely held around me, guiding me into her hungry slit. "Come on, little more, push." She whispered snippets of incomplete thoughts under her breath, mindlessly encouraging me even though I had no real intention of resting. I kissed her again, hating every moment I didn't have her lips against mine. It felt natural to let my tongue wander subtly wander when we kissed, flicking at them like a pink snake. In a flash her tongue darted from her mouth and slithered across mine, wrestling with it playfully. The two dangling orbs were itching to be covered in juices, and I was remarkably aware of the single drop trailing its way down my balls as I pressed further into her. Erica's pussy swallowed me up to the last inch, and my balls tapping against her marble smooth ass told me I was at the bottom. My spongy cock head kissed her cervix, pushing against the soft wall and getting her to seize up. Our chests mashed together, and her tits ballooned out to the sides as we fought to get closer to one another. I regretfully pulled back a few inches and bit Erica's lip as she grumbled reluctantly, her insides desperately trying to clutch onto my cock, slippery with plenty of her juices. The look of desire burning behind her eyes was cutting to my core, but I couldn't look away even as I sped up my movements. My car became filled with the sound of skin slapping against skin. Erica's body was rocked forward and back with every thrust into her, and every time I knocked against her deepest reaches she would reward me with a high-pitched squeak. Her body was shifting so roughly she had to brace her arms against the car door again, holding her in place while her legs stayed wrapped around my waist. I could only pull back so far before Erica would stiffen her legs, preventing me from pulling my cock out any further, like she was trapping me. I gave her a quizzical look and, luckily, her eyes stayed open long enough for her to catch it. "Get the hint, dummy, I don't want you to pull out of me that far." Until now, I never would've pegged Erica for the sex-crazed type, but now that's all I was seeing her as. Soft walls encased my cock in buttery love, dousing my pole in hot cream so the piston could slide effortlessly to the base. Burying myself in Erica's hungry pussy was an eternal pursuit; whenever I thought she would cave and ask me to slow down, she would steady herself by gripping my shoulders and grinding back against me, keeping me planted to the root in her greedy hole. I pumped my cock into Erica until my own thoughts ran blank and all I could think about was fucking her as long as I could. The vice-like grip around my dick was like a ribbed glove tightly surrounding me so I could feel every fleshy bump rubbing across the sensitive tip of my cock. One hand darted between her legs, and I could tell instantly when Erica touched her clit. Like she'd flipped a switch, her insides clenched up like a zip tie and smothered my meaty boner. I'd thought she was tight before, but only now could I feel her pulse like a gentle heartbeat hugging my dick. The tiny fingers flicking urgently against her clit were tickling my shaft as I drove it downwards, angling my hips so I could get deeper without having to grind as much. I was smiling like an idiot from feeling Erica's fingers dancing against me, her nails sending shivers through my spine like lightning. My brain emptied, wiping the slate clean so she was the most important thing on my mind. Like I had been so many times before, I was faced with the overwhelming desire to kiss Erica. The best part about this time was that I could actually do it. Through the, admittedly, rough fucking and the rubbing of her clit, the poor girl was already dealing with a lot. As I moved to kiss her, I noticed I had to actually wait for her to shift her focus to allow her to kiss me back. But when she did, I could've ignored real fireworks going off around us because ours were just as bright, and rang twice as loud in my head. Our lips were already wet, now slipping over each other and battling for supremacy. Whatever control felt like, we didn't quite know, but we clearly wanted it very badly. Muffled groans went practically unnoticed as we mauled each other, barely sneaking breaths between the heavy, sloppy kisses. Like the greedy kisser she was, her tongue was already trying to wiggle its way into my mouth. Somewhere along the lines we had completely abandoned any attempt to keep my car clean, but considering how rarely I invited girls back here I figured one messy incident wouldn't be the end of the world. The two squishy mountains spilling over each other were a sight to behold, bouncing off one another as they viciously wrestled for my attention. It would've taken a stronger-willed man than me to resist tugging at her nipples, perched perfectly in the centre of her breasts like two enticing pink pearls. The bright pink areolas stood out beautifully against her milky skin, and I reminded myself to come back to them when I wasn't busy madly kissing Erica. With one arm being used to hold myself up, tucked behind Erica's head so I could prop myself up on my elbow, the other was free to roam around her breast. The plump mound oozed around my fingers as I dug in, flicking my thumb over the hardened nub. Our bodies moved in unison, my hips slamming to meet hers as she pushed into my strokes. "Bite my ear." She spat out, tilting her head to the side to encourage me even further. "You're the Queen of subtly, aren't you?" I chuckled, speeding up my pounding when Erica went to answer to take her breath away before she could. "Is there a please in it for me?" Erica muttered something about me being a cheeky fucker, but I was too busy making a beeline for her neck. My lips gingerly pressed against her skin, savouring the incredibly soft feel against my kiss. Poking my tongue out just enough to graze her skin, I moved upward and planted small kisses up to her ear. I sucked the lobe into my mouth and timidly sucked on it, drawing playful giggles from Erica. "More, more, more!" She drunkenly cheered, obsessively kissing my cheeks. My hair was an awful mess thanks to Erica raking her fingers through it, tossing it around like a tiny hurricane. Already, she had forgotten about ear kissing altogether and was moving on to bigger, better things. Erica tucked her knees up to her chest and rolled to the side, nudging my cock out from her moist pussy with a quiet pop. "Sit!" She commanded, pushing me into the seat and straddling me. "You know, you've been a very naughty boy." "We aren't really doing that are we?" I groaned, helping her shuffle around so the blonde bombshell sat comfortable facing me in my lap. "We've had sex one time, are you already so bored you've gotta roleplay?" "Where's your sense of adventure?" She laughed, licking her lips seductively. I gave her butt a smack and she jumped in response. My hands stayed glued to her buns after they'd stopped rippling, keeping the juicy mounds spread apart. "You wanna talk about adventure?" My tone was innocently coy, but the meaning behind my words held dark intent. As soon as I passed a finger over Erica's asshole, it tightened up exponentially. That didn't deter me from pushing forward, but I knew I had to do it patiently. The wrinkled hole resisted as I circled my finger around it, mingling it with the honey that had dripped down from Erica's sopping wet pussy. It still wasn't enough for me to fit my finger in, so I gave up my effort to bring the digit up to Erica's mouth so she could suck on it. The chef I worked with in the restaurant was gone, and she had been replaced by a girl who would obediently grease my fingers if it meant getting them in her ass. Until I had a reason to stop, I was determined to work her ass enough so I could convince her to be, once again, a little adventurous. With my finger now glistening with saliva, Erica gave it a peck to tell me it as wet enough. This time as I pressed against her asshole, it didn't seize up in fear. Rather, it began to slowly open as I rolled my finger in small circles. The first knuckle slid in easily, but I had to be a bit more forceful after that point. My impatient approach scared Erica into lurching away from my finger, sandwiching my face between her tits accidentally. She tried to move away more, but my hands stayed firmly stationed on her butt and held her against me. I kissed the warm, smooth flesh and nipped at it with my lips pulled over my teeth. I think we both realized at the same time that nobody had yet taken the initiative to fit my raging hardon back into Erica's pink pussy, slippery and dripping juices down onto me. By now she had completely covered me and I had no problem fitting back inside of her. I sank back down into the depths and felt her embrace my cock all over again, packing as much as she could into her body before she'd slow down. With a little wiggling and readjustment, Erica finally managed to sit squarely in my lap. I had felt the same remarkable wet, tightness before, but this time having her weight all balanced on one point was making it feel like I was really reaching her stomach. As she took the last few inches, her hand moved to where her tanline started and she beamed with satisfaction. "Fuck, that's good." She threw her head back and groaned as she lifted off, legs shaking as she tried to steadily raise and lower her hips. Having a strong, perhaps too strong, grip on my shoulders was giving Erica the balance she needed to lift her ass up until her cozy little pocket was halfway empty. Then I would sink into her creamy, bubbly centre and fill her to her limit. Erica's tits were dragging across my chest, bare skin on bare skin, her stiff, rubbery nipples taking centre stage and tracing random patterns over me. Both of us had grown tired, myself especially, so the bouncing soon faded to a deep, slow grind. My cock was swallowed whole into the velvet chamber, my balls kissing the bottom of Erica's bum as she rocked back and forth in place. Her hands grabbed mine for leverage and she squeezed them tightly, pushing our plams together and interlocking her fingers with mine.