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A Nighthawk at the Diner

By: Monark



Monday

Every day is just the same. That was her first thought, after the alarm clock rattled the last bleary shreds of dream from her head. I get up in this bed, I know I have to go to work whether I want to or not, she thought.

It wouldn’t be so bad if she could ever get a decent night’s sleep.

Andrea sighed, a tired sound, and pulled her pillow over her face to shut out the morning light. What would happen, she thought, if I just stayed here all day? Would anyone ever miss me?

With a growl to herself, she pushed the pillow aside and got up to go to work.

Andrea navigated through the tiny apartment by memory, still blinking the sleep from her eyes. By touch, she tugged her oversized T-shirt over her head and let it fall somewhere to be determined later. The chilly apartment immediately raised gooseflesh, and she hurried to the bathroom to shower. The pale green eyes of her reflection blinked blearily back at her from the bathroom mirror, and she became suddenly conscious of her nakedness, and hugged her arms across herself uncomfortably.

She didn’t waste much time showering, although the delicious warmth of the hot water tempted her to. It wasn’t that she was in such a hurry. She didn’t bother to wonder why she was hurrying through her shower, at least not then.

By the time Mandy arrived at the little cubicle where she and Andrea worked, early as always, Andrea was already there, plugging away at her computer. Mandy laughed as she settled into her desk, the mahogany skin of her face almost glowing as she smiled.

“Girl, you’re gonna burn yourself out with all this overtime.”

Andrea looked up and smiled. “Hi, Mandy.”

Mandy clucked her tongue rudely, all the while absent-mindedly tapping at the keyboard to log on. “I’m serious, Andrea. You’re always here when I get here, and you’re always STILL here when I leave. And I spend too much time in here as it is.”

Andrea waved a slender hand in the air as if sweeping the notion away, and went back to work. Mandy, however, could see the cloud that had come over Andrea’s features. “Are you okay?”

Andrea took a long blink and thought about it. “I’m okay, Mandy. I’ve just been having some trouble sleeping. That’s all.”

Mandy’s big brown eyes opened with concern. “You’ve got to sleep, girl. Try working out. It worked for me. Just totally exhaust yourself.”

Andrea smiled and nodded neutrally.

Mandy crossed her arms in front of her and frowned. “I’m serious, girl. You need to do something, or you’re gonna burn out, if you can’t get enough sleep.”

“I know. It’s just that everyone I’ve mentioned it to has some advice. It’s like everyone has been through it. But nothing works for me. It’s been going on for weeks. I get maybe an hour of sleep a night, maybe two. Sometimes, I don’t get any sleep at all.”

Mandy put her concerned face back on. “You should go see a doctor. People suffer from insomnia all the time. I’m sure that there’s something you can do.”

Andrea nodded. “I will, Mandy. I’m okay, don’t worry.”

Mandy smiled and went back to her work.

Andrea hurried over to the coffee machine and hoped that there was some left.

That night was the same as it had been for what seemed like an eternity. In reality, it was only a few dozen nights. Andrea lay on her bed, eyes covered with the eye-shades she had bought at the suggestion of another co-worker. Time ticked by. Her mind was buzzing with activity, trying to piece together some of the problems at work, thinking back to her family, her college days before her graduation six months ago…

And the minutes ticked on. She would lift up a corner of the eye-shades occasionally to peek at the clock. Maybe three or four minutes had passed, each time, since the last time she had checked.

Why can’t I sleep? She wondered…

She pulled off the uncomfortable eye-shades, like she always did. The light of the alarm clock numbers illuminated the entire apartment with enough light to navigate. She had tried covering the clock to darken the room, but then she just lay awake and felt anxiety not knowing what time it was.

Maybe I can just beat my head against the wall until I fall unconscious. No, then the neighbors will just pound on the wall telling me to keep it down. That’s sure to wake me back up.

Andrea got up and paced the apartment restlessly, her long oversized T-shirt falling to just above her knees. It was white, with a worn-down panda on the front, just over her breasts. In the mirror, her body looked shapeless, almost sexless, swathed in the big white shirt. She struck a pose for the mirror, one hand on her hip, cocking her hip to the side and straightening one leg out to rest just her big toe on the floor. She looked like a big white potato with arms and legs, coming on to a john on a street-corner.

She turned on the TV. She turned off the TV.

Eventually, she got dressed and walked out, locking the door.

It was 12:14 am.

Gina’s Diner was two blocks away from Andrea’s apartment. It had an old-fashioned jukebox, and served a really good Rueben sandwich. Best of all, it was open 24 hours.

Andrea had been in the diner a few times before, on her way home from work. It had been bustling with activity each of those times. Right now it was empty. There were several rows of booths, two tables in the middle of the floor, and an old oak bar that served as the counter. The bar looked like it was taken from a nightclub, or, even more, like something out of a saloon in a western movie, scarred and beaten. There was even a big mirror behind it, reflecting the entire diner. There was even a tiny brass bell over the door that jingled as she opened the door and walked in. All that was missing was the collection of bottles of liquor in front of the mirror.

Andrea unhurriedly meandered toward the counter.

The guy behind the bar smiled at her as she walked up. He was average height, she guessed maybe five foot nine, with black hair cut fairly short. He wore an old-fashioned apron over his shirt and tie, and gray Dockers slacks. The apron had a little red emblem on the pocket that said “Gina’s.” A name-plated pinned onto the apron declared him to be “Jeremy.”

“Can I help you?”

Andrea looked over the menu sitting on the counter and fidgeted with her purse strap. “Coffee, please. Uh… Decaf.”

“Decaf? Coming right up.” He hopped into action like a wind-up toy. “Cream? Sugar?”

Andrea shook her head. “Black will do.” She slipped onto one of the stools by the counter.

The man (assumedly Jeremy) set the coffee down in front of Andrea. “Anything else I can get for you?”

Andrea snorted. “How about some valium?”

He tsked and held out his hands helplessly. “Sorry. We’re fresh out. Care for some laudanum instead?”

Andrea stared at him for a moment, then giggled. “No, unfortunately, I gave up laudanum for Lent.” She looked around. “You usually get any business this time of night?”

He shrugged. “Sometimes in the summer, we get customers all night long. But this is kind of the off season for late night dining.”

Andrea settled her elbows down onto the counter and tasted the decaf coffee. It tasted just almost like real coffee. She grimaced.

Jeremy noticed. “Coffee not doing it for you? Can I get you anything to eat? I can wake the cook up.”

“You let him sleep?”

“Let him? He sleeps. Besides, I’m not the manager. She isn’t here right now, which makes it safe. What she doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”

Andrea smiled, despite herself. “I didn’t know that being charming was a required skill for waiters.”

Jeremy winked. “Only in diners, and between the hours of nine P.M. and five A.M.”

“Ah.”

“The few, the proud…” Jerry smiled widely.

Andrea held out a hand. “I’m Andrea.”

Jeremy took the hand lightly, with old-fashioned poise. “And I’m…”

She interrupted. “That’s okay. I’m psychic. Let me guess… You’re Jeremy, right?”

Jeremy twisted his face into melodramatic mock surprise. “You really are psychic, aren’t you?” He tapped his name badge. “I prefer Jerry, though. I’m only Jeremy when my mom’s mad at me.” His eyes twinkled with silent laughter, and possibly, like her, sleep deprivation. His eyes were washed-out gray. They made Andrea think of the sky in the winter.

Andrea’s smile deepened.

They talked about everything. The city, television shows, astronomy (both of them were interested), sports (neither of them were interested), movies, everything. They talked until Andrea found herself nodding off in the middle of the conversation.

“Excuse me, Jerry. I’ve got to go.”

“I understand. I can be incredibly boring sometimes. I can go on and on.”

Andrea shook her head sincerely. “No, it’s just that I feel like I’m going to fall asleep. And I want to get home and take advantage of the feeling before it’s too late to get any sleep.”

Jerry nodded knowingly. “Come back any time. I work here five days a week. We can talk.”

Andrea nodded back. “Maybe. How much do I owe you?”

He waved his hand in the air. “It’s boring in here. The conversation more than covers a couple of cups of coffee.”

Andrea smiled at him warmly. “That’s sweet. Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it. See you later, then.”

She tried to say goodbye on her way out, but a yawn cut it off, and Jerry waved her out the door.

It still took a while for her to get to sleep.

Tuesday

The morning was just the same as it always was. And yet it wasn’t. After only an hour and a half of sleep, Andrea was exhausted. But even after wreaking her customary violence on her alarm clock, she was smiling all the way to the bathroom. She tossed off her big panda shirt and surveyed herself in the mirror. Her dark-peaked breasts swayed slightly, pleasantly, as she turned to check herself out.

Not too bad, she thought. Maybe a little pale. Maybe you could stand to work out a little more. But, really, not too bad at all.

She pushed her white cotton panties down off her hips smoothly and stepped out. Her skin dimpled with the chill of the morning, and she slipped into the tub to take a shower. A nice long shower with really hot water.

Mandy watched Andrea coming into the cubicle appraisingly. One eyebrow raised before she spoke, apparently having noticed the cup of coffee already in Andrea’s hand.

“You get any sleep last night, hon?”

Andrea set the coffee down on her desk and sighed. “Not much. I think I’m beating this, though.”

“If you didn’t get any sleep, just how are you beating it?”

Andrea smiled back with a wink. “It’s called a positive attitude, Mandy. Just a positive attitude.”

Mandy harrumphed, but didn’t comment.

It was amazing how quickly the day went by. Probably just the positive attitude.

But that night was no different. She flopped from one side to the other on her bed, twisting in her shirt and her sheets. The time dragged on, and still she couldn’t sleep. The eye-shades didn’t work. Nothing worked. She kept thinking about work. Or about television. Mostly, though, she thought about the diner.

It was midnight when she got up and went to the diner.

Andrea was surprised to find that she felt strangely relieved when she saw that, once again, Jerry was the only one there. The little bell jingled happily to great her as she walked in.

She was also surprised at how her stomach flipped, just a tiny bit, when he said her name.

“Andrea! Back again? Let me guess… Decaf coffee, black?”

Andrea had to gather her breath, although she didn’t quite know why. “You know me. The usual.”

Jerry poured the coffee, still talking. “Still can’t sleep?”

Andrea sighed. “Let me guess. You have some advice.” It was a statement, not a question.

He handed the Styrofoam cup of coffee over to her, holding it up for her to take. Her fingers brushed his as she took the cup, and seemed to tingle for a moment with static electricity. Minutes later, she could still feel the points on her fingers that his hand had touched.

Jerry seemed taken aback. “Me? A graveyard shift waiter at an all-night diner? What would I know about insomnia?”

Andrea just almost laughed, but it would probably have made scalding hot coffee come out of her nose at that very moment.

After she was finished with her sip of coffee, Andrea asked, “So, you really don’t have any advice?”

“You mean, advice that you haven’t heard already? Probably not.”

She nodded vigorously. “I’ve heard them all. Meditation, exercise, diet, medication. I’m staying away from pills, though. They kind of scare me.”

He nodded. “Don’t like anything but you controlling your body?”

Andrea’s eyes popped open. “That’s exactly what I usually say. How did you know that?”

Jerry shrugged. “I can relate. Not that I always follow it. I’ll admit, I’m addicted to nicotine, and don’t intend to change that. I drink a little, from time to time.” He raised an eyebrow. “Have you tried the old standby of a nightcap before bed?”

Andrea raised an eyebrow to match his. “I assume you don’t mean a hat?”

“Maybe a glass of wine. A drink a day doesn’t make you an alcoholic.”

She considered it. Alcohol was a sedative, after all. “Well, I guess I have to find a liquor store, then. Know any that are open late?”

He shook his head. “Not in the city limits. But maybe I can help you.” He held up a finger to signal her to wait and walked back behind the counter area, into the kitchen. A minute later he walked back with a small-necked bottle with a brown label. When he set it down, she found the name Jack Daniel’s staring at her. Jerry stood there, behind it, waiting for her reaction.

She watched the bottle dubiously, as if it were a live snake. “I didn’t know you had a liquor license.”

“We don’t. I’m not going to sell you any alcohol. I’m offering to give you a drink or two, if you want it. This bottle was left around by one of the chefs that used to work here. He used it in a great pie recipe he had. He quit last year, but we’ve still got most of a case of Jack.”

Andrea stared at the bottle, thinking.

Jerry waited, then picked up the bottle. “It’s okay. It was just an idea. I’ll put this back.” He started to turn around, but Andrea caught his shirt sleeve.

“No, it’s worth a try. Set one up, barkeep.”

Jerry grinned happily. Deftly, he cracked the seal on the bottle and pulled out two clear plastic cups. Apparently there weren’t any shot glasses around. Holding one of the cups at an angle, he poured about a finger’s width of the clear fluid into the bottom. Then, thinking better of it, he poured that much again into it and set it in front of Andrea. Then he set to filling the other cup.

“Joining me?”

He nodded. “Why not. I don’t drink every day, but when the company’s right…” He trailed off as he capped up the bottle and picked up his cup.

Andrea picked up hers. It felt cool to the touch where the alcohol filled the bottom. “Cheers!” She held her cup out to tap against Jerry’s outstretched cup. Then she sipped at the cup. The whiskey tasted jus the way it had the last time she had tried some, several months ago, and she commented on that.

“Man… why don’t I just down a glass of turpentine?”

“Not used to strong drink?”

Andrea shrugged. “Not straight. I usually mix it with something.” She shrugged again and tipped her cup into her coffee.

Jerry watched her with a look of disgust. “What a waste of good liquor…”

“There’s no accounting for taste, my good man.” A taste of the now-fortified decaf coffee confirmed that her plan was sound. She could hardly taste the alcohol over the terrible coffee. She took a long sip, letting the hot liquid seep down her throat. Moment’s later, she began to feel warmer.

“Now that’s more like it.”

He stared at her doubtfully. “That’s drinkable?”

She pointed at the coffee-pot. “Try some. Anything’s an improvement over your coffee.”

“Not fair. You had the decaf. I make a good pot of coffee when I have something to work with.” He poured himself a mug of regular coffee and downed what remained of his plastic cup into it. As an afterthought, he added two cubes of sugar from the box beside the pot. Lifting the coffee-cup to his lips, he tasted carefully and thoughtfully.

Andrea couldn’t stand the suspense. “Well?”

He set his mug down and poured another bit of whiskey into it. Tasting it again, he gave a satisfied nod.

“I think you’ve hit on something here…”

Andrea rolled her eyes. “You’ve never heard of Irish coffee?”

Jerry shrugged again and took a long sip from his mug. “Okay, so maybe it’s not really new. It’s still new to me.”

They sipped their coffee quietly, conversation now seeming unnecessary. Andrea finished her cup after a few minutes and set it down on the counter.

“Feeling tired yet?” Jerry asked.

Andrea shook her head. She felt warm, but not tired. She didn’t even feel tipsy.

“Another?”

She thought about it. “Just one more. For the road, so to speak.”

This time, he re-filled her cup with coffee and poured the whiskey directly into it, stirring it with a little red stirrer. He re-filled his own at the same time, and walked the bottle back into the kitchen.

Andrea checked herself out in the mirror behind the counter while Jerry was in the back. She looked like a woman who had come here just after getting out of bed. Her hair was a mess. She could see right down her shirt, into her cleavage. It was obvious that she hadn’t bothered with a bra. Her face grew warm when she realized that Jerry had been looking right at her for almost an hour. He had been able to see right down her shirt…

She pulled her jacket farther closed as Jerry came back from the kitchen. She was uncomfortably warm.

Jerry lifted up his mug. He paused, possibly trying to think up a toast, but eventually just tipped the mug to his mouth.

Andrea followed suit. She could taste the whiskey in this cup. Jerry had possibly been just a bit more generous this time, not being able to see how much he had added.

But she drank it thirstily. The warmth of the hot coffee and the warmth of the alcohol seemed to add together, filling her body. After a long sip, she opened her eyes (just then realizing that she had closed them) to see Jerry leaning over the counter on his elbows, watching her.

She froze, cup still touching her lower lip. “What?”

He kept watching her. “What do you mean, what?”

He was looking at her. His stormy-gray eyes looked distant, poetic. Andrea’s whole body warmed up, realizing that he’d been watching her. She was acutely aware of her breasts, and she could feel her nipples against the fabric of her shirt. They were warm, almost hot, and her shirt felt abrasive against them.

Andrea leaned forward and opened her mouth to talk, but then forgot what she was about to say. She took a deep breath. She realized that she had been staring at Jerry’s face for a long time now. His lips were full, and parted slightly as he watched her.

He was very close now.

And then they fell together. That was the way that it would always seem to her, whenever she thought back to the moment. She didn’t remember moving forward, or him moving toward her. But her eyes closed slowly, and she felt his nose brush hers lightly. Then their lips touched, as softly as a butterfly landing. And time held its breath. Her eyes closed, she felt his fingers on alight her shoulder, resting there.

The brass bell over the door jingled.

Andrea yanked back, as quickly as her whiskey-laden reflexes could manage. She felt extremely self-conscious, and tried not to look at Jerry. Instead, she glanced toward the door.

Walking in was a small woman, even shorter than Andrea, though her white high-heels made up for that. Golden blonde hair was pulled back in a tight bun, neatly away from her face. There didn’t seem to be a single hair out of place. She wore a white blouse with a gray jacket, and a comfortable-looking gray skirt. Her calves were very nice, Andrea noted. Somewhat over-sized glasses perched on her nose, giving her a slight resemblance to an owl. She looked like she just walked out of a business meeting. Her light blonde eyebrows were furrowed close together. She approached the counter slowly and angrily.


A Nighthawk at the Diner



When the she spoke, still walking, now about in the middle of the diner, her voice was almost saccharine in its sweetness. “Jerry, could I talk to you in my office, dear?” She glanced at Andrea with daggers in her eyes. “This will only take a moment, ma’am.”

Jerry leaned down to Andrea and whispered, his voice raspy. “You’d better go. That’s the manager, my boss.”

Andrea got up quickly, nodding. She hurried out the door as Jerry and the woman walked into the back. As Andrea stepped into the chilly street, she could hear the muted sounds of angry shouts from the back of the diner, though she couldn’t make out any words.

Andrea walked home in a blur.

She was sober before she could finally get to sleep.

Wednesday

The morning felt gritty on Andrea’s eyelids when the alarm shouted into her ear. She dragged herself out of bed and across the apartment with an effort of will, scattering nightshirt and panties somewhere unseen along the path as she went. The sudden light in the bathroom as she flipped on the switch blinded her, and she rubbed at her eyes dreamily. When her hands parted she found herself staring at something unexpected.

She was smiling.

Her face was tired, and the noticeable dark circles of sleeplessness were still there. But the corners of her mouth tricked upward in an unmistakable smile. She stared at herself for a minute, realizing that she felt good. Tired, but good.

I look good, too, she thought. She ran her hands through her tousled, tangled hair, pulling out the hidden knots, and over her neck and shoulders. Nice shoulders, after all, clear-skinned and fine-boned. She ran her fingers further, over her round breasts. They were average, not huge, but they were nicely-formed, symmetrical over her tight, flat stomach. Her light-brown nipples speared perfectly forward, large and prominent in the chilly morning air, and she brushed them with the fingertips of her hand.

She suddenly thought of the previous night, and covered her breasts with her hands in a moment of self-consciousness. She looked around, almost expecting someone to be watching her, admiring herself alone in her bathroom. She felt silly.

Still, she thought, as she turned on the hot water and stepped into the bathtub, I do look pretty good.

The day went by in a merciful blur. There was a distinct feeling of rush in the office, and the work piled up faster than she could deal with it. At the end of the day, Andrea honestly didn’t know if she had gotten anything done at all. Mandy was too busy to grill her again about her sleep and her health. Andrea was grateful for that; Mandy was a good friend, but she really didn’t want to answer any questions at the moment.

She arrived home exhausted. She tossed her purse at the table, missing, and stalked to her bed to fall over into it. Her energy drained out of her, pulled down through the mattress by gravity.

Sleep or not, she thought, I’m not moving.

It felt like hours that she lay there. It was probably only a few minutes, she knew later. All the little discomforts of the day rose up. Her feet hurt from her shoes. Her bra-strap was cutting into her shoulder. Eventually, she pulled herself up off of the bed to a sitting position and pulled off her shoes. Her toes breathed a tangible sigh of relief.

She ambled slowly over to her closet and hung up her jacket and skirt as she took them off. Her blouse and bra went in the pink plastic basket beside the closet, and her nylons went on the floor beside the basket. She massaged her shoulders and sides where the bra had been cutting into her skin, and pulled her worn panda-adorned T-shirt off of the coffee table where it had landed that morning. She dropped the shirt over her head, smelling the old-shirt smell and her own skin on it.

She looked back over at the bed. Wouldn’t you know it, she thought. After all this activity, I’m not sleepy any more. She was tired, but she didn’t feel like sleeping. At least she was more comfortable.

She wandered the apartment. She lay down on her short sofa and kicked her feet up on the arm to watch some television. She turned the television off and stared at the ceiling. She painted her fingernails and toenails. Red. She went into the bathroom and shaved her legs over the bathtub. Afterward, she lay on the couch again and ran her hands over her now perfectly smooth legs, searching for spots she missed. At a sudden thought, she hiked up her skirt and pulled her panties down over her hips. Running her fingers thoughtfully through the dark tangle of hair there, she returned to the bathroom and gave it a little trim. Nothing drastic, just enough so that she could wear a bathing suit if she wanted. A very small bathing suit. In the winter.

What am I doing? Nails, legs, and… Why am I going to all this work when no one’s even going to see it?

Still holding the razor, a crazy thought occurred to her. I wonder what it would feel like if I shaved the whole thing? Her sudden blush, in the privacy of her own bathroom, was so silly that she had to giggle. She put the razor up and rinsed herself off, then walked out and slipped her panties back on.

She threw herself onto her bed, angry that she couldn’t feel sleepy. Really, she thought. Who on Earth am I trying to impress, anyway? The thought brought Jerry’s eyes to her mind, the color of a storm at sea. Andrea blushed again at the thought, thinking of how he had been looking at her.

I barely know him.

Her skin tingled and felt warm as she remembered how she realized that he had been able to see down her shirt. Again, she was aware of her breasts, but now she was alone in her own apartment.

It was just a one-time thing.

She swallowed and licked her lips thoughtfully at the memory of the kiss. She glanced down at her body. Her nipples were fully visible through the white fabric of her shirt. She raised a hand and softly touched one hard nipple through her shirt. The touch sent an electric shock through her body.

She pulled the covers over her, rolled over on her stomach and closed her eyes. And tried to sleep.

His face kept coming back to her. His full lips, his friendly smile. The momentary feel of his lips on hers. Even as the apartment cooled off in the night, she felt warmer and warmer under the blankets. The more she tried to stop thinking about him, the more that very intent summoned him to her mind. Momentary images flashed through her head, curiosities rose up like whispering demons. What would his arms feel like around her. What did he look like naked.

Andrea became guiltily aware that she was lying with one arm under her, her hand under her hips. Directly under her groin. She felt very hot there. She moved her hand slightly, pressing into the soft mound, and could feel more heat. She closed her eyes tightly shut and moved her fingers slightly lower, and pressed again. A warm sensation of pleasure spread through her hips as she felt herself find the hard little spot there in the center. She massaged slowly and gently through the fabric of her panties, already breathing hard into the pillow.

But I just met him.

Her body let her know that it really didn’t care. The heat built up like a volcano in her hips, and she could feel her moisture slowly soak through the cloth. Guilt gave way to need, and she pushed her hand down into her panties to touch herself directly. She pressed two fingers between her swollen lips, and reached down to pull up some of the moisture that was seeping from her. She rubbed her lubricated fingertips vigorously against the hard pearl of her clitoris. Her hands seemed to be moving on their own. Her other hand reached under her body, cupping a breast and rolling the nipple gently between her thumb and fore-finger

It went on forever. Her body took all of her attention and demanded more. She even went so far as to push a fingertip slightly into herself. She could feel her body clamp onto her finger, and she felt a momentary full sensation, and pulled out, rubbing against herself again.

How long has it been since something’s been in there, she thought.

And then it was over. She lay there, breathing hard, wondering whether she had come or not. She was sore and exhausted. But she didn’t remember any great throes of orgasm like she had had in the past. It had felt good, she supposed.

The guilt caught up with her with a vengeance, and she got out of bed to go shower. She felt dirty.

After the shower, she got dressed and went out. But this time, she put on a bra. And makeup. She even checked herself out in the mirror, although she felt ridiculous.

It was 11:55.

The bell sang its little tune, its only trick, as Andrea walked into the diner. Once again, she found Jerry alone at the counter. He looked up as she walked in and smiled at her. When she got close, she realized that she could smell his cologne, not strong, but noticeable. She didn’t remember whether he had been wearing any before.

Jerry was running a towel over the counter as she walked up. “So, how did you sleep? Did the whiskey work?”

Andrea thought, Oh, I think the whiskey worked. But she didn’t say that. “No. But I don’t think I had enough. It’s worth trying again, if you don’t mind.”

Jerry looked surprised. “Uh, sure, sure. You’re not just trying to get free booze out of me, are you?” He trotted back to the kitchen.

Andrea raised her voice slightly so he could hear her from the kitchen. “That depends. If I was, would you cut me off?”

Jerry reappeared with a brand new bottle. “I think that the day shift got into the opened bottle. I couldn’t find it. I grabbed another one from the case.”

Andrea shrugged. “Well, if you open up a new bottle, I know that you’re not slipping my anything in the whiskey.”

Jerry cracked open the bottle and poured some of the clear fluid into the bottom of a coffee mug. Then he filled it the rest of the way with decaf coffee and set it down in front of Andrea.

“Wow. I rate a real mug this time. I’ve left the world of Styrofoam behind.”

“Nothing’s too good for our regulars.” Jerry poured himself a mug, similarly fortified, with two sugars, and slipped the bottle under the counter. He bent over to arrange something down there to hide it, though Andrea couldn’t see what it was.

They raised their mugs. “To Gina’s Diner,” Andrea said impulsively. Jerry nodded.

Clink.

“So.” Andrea started. “I take it you still work here?”

Jerry rolled his eyes. “Yeah. Zoe is a hard woman to work for. She doesn’t like us fraternizing with the customers too much. She says that the diner is a business, not here for my personal pleasure, and that I’m being paid to work, not make out with…” He paused and winced at what he had been about to say. “Well, you get the picture. She told me that if it happens again, I’ll be looking for another job.”

Andrea sipped the coffee, not tasting it. She kept catching herself staring at Jerry. She kept noticing little things. The way his hair curled just slightly. The way he kept the spoon in his coffee so he could stir it before each time he sipped it. How she could just barely see her reflection in his eyes. She kept pulling her eyes away so that he wouldn’t notice.

He set his coffee down and put a hand on her wrist. “Andrea…”

Andrea put her own hand on top of his. “Are you going to bring up our kiss?” She said clearly. She couldn’t believe her boldness, and her face immediately felt hot.

Jerry looked surprised again, then glanced down at her hand and back up into her eyes, smiling. “Yeah. I’m that transparent, huh? I’ve been thinking about it all day.”

Andrea squeezed his hand. “Great minds think alike.”

Jerry laughed softly, and Andrea found herself laughing as well, just for a moment. They sipped their coffees again, emptied them, and Jerry filled them again. The silence rose up again as they each looked at the other. Jerry broke it at last. “Well?”

“Well what?” She felt like the air had become slightly heavier in the diner.

Jerry softly cleared his throat. “About what we were talking about…”

Andrea released his hand and walked around to the end of the counter, then walked behind the counter and right up to Jerry. His eyes were wide open in suspense. Andrea reached up to put a hand behind his neck, feeling her fingers run through the hair on the nape of his neck, and pull his head down to her. Her lips met his firmly but softly. She realized that her eyes were closed, and she felt his hands on her back, below the shoulder blades, holding her into him and pressing her breasts into his midsection.

The kiss lasted a brief eternity. She pulled back eventually, and drew an unsteady breath, opening her eyes to look directly into his. Her smile was wicked.

“I hope that that answers your question.”

Jerry lightened his hold on her. “Actually, I didn’t quite get that. If you could go over it again…”

She swatted at him playfully and pulled out of his embrace. “You think you’re funny, I suppose.” He leaned against the counter as if he was losing his balance.

“Well, some people laugh just looking at me.”

Andrea doubted that, but laughed anyway. Perhaps it was the drink. Or perhaps it was the company. Whatever it was, she felt warm throughout, in body and soul.

Jerry smiled, his dimples showing in his cheeks. “You know, I’m really having fun. I’d better be careful. I’m still at work.”

Andrea giggled. “What, is bartending like being a policeman? Discipline all the time on duty?” She picked up her coffee again and took a long sip, the whiskey spreading the warmth throughout her body. She set the coffee down again, perhaps too roughly, and the hot dark liquid splashed across the surface of the counter. Jerry winced and sucked in his breath as a few hot drops scalded his hand. He pulled the hand up and cradled it protectively in the other hand.

Without a thought, Andrea reached out and pulled Jerry’s scalded fingers to her lips. Jerry fought weakly, as if confused, as she kissed the still-hot drops of fortified coffee from his fingertips, gently and carefully cleaning and soothing them. She only realized she was doing it a moment after she started, and her eyes opened with slight surprise. His fingers tasted of salt, coffee, whiskey, and something else.

Jerry was stunned. He opened his mouth, as if he was about to talk, but open it remained, as Andrea kissed his fingertips clean. Then, not pulling his hand from hers, he raised his other hand to gently touch her hair at her temple, stroking so softly that she could barely feel the movement on her face. Andrea cradled Jerry’s big hand in both of her delicate hands and moved forward. She closed her eyes as she felt the tip of his nose brush hers, and she gently kissed the lower lip of his open mouth. He tasted of coffee and tobacco smoke.

Suddenly, Jerry stiffened. Andrea fought for a moment as he pulled away. “Whoa, sorry… I just saw Zoe’s car pull into the parking garage. If she sees you here, I’m toast.”

“What’s she gonna do? I’m a paying customer.” Andrea could feel a good burn of anger starting, fed by the frustration of an interrupted kiss.

Jerry glanced around nervously, almost dancing with anxiety. “If you walk out the front door, she’ll see you. Man…”

Andrea sighed. She looked about, and saw the answer. This is not happening, she whispered, but stooped down into the hollow beneath the counter. “Just make sure that she leaves without coming back here where she can see me, okay?”

Jerry nodded quickly but uncertainly and stepped in front of her. With all of the cleaning equipment and boxes under the counter, Andrea was basically boxed into a small space, with just enough room to kneel upright. She grabbed a folded towel to kneel on, as she heard the front door opening.

God, she thought. This is just too much like a bad sitcom. It was her penance, though, for falling for a wimp with a shrew for a boss.

The stilt-tapping of Zoe’s high heels rapped its way across the hardwood floor of the empty diner in perfect time. Her voice was muted to Andrea’s ears by the thick wood of the counter.

“How’s business been, Jerry?” Zoe’s voice was softer than it had been before. Perhaps apologetic. Andrea could hear the soft whisk of Jerry wiping the counter. The coffee, of course. She got a chill, but realized that coffee was a perfectly normal thing to find on the counter.

“About normal. It is almost one A.M., you know. What brings you around?” Jerry’s voice was a little high with nervousness.

Andrea quickly glanced upward, trying to see around Jerry’s legs toward the mirror behind the bar. If she can see me in that mirror, she thought, I will just die. Caught hiding under a counter in a diner. She thought a moment, but couldn’t imagine anything off the top of her head that would be more humiliating.

Fortunately, she couldn’t see the mirror from where she was. And that meant that, assumedly, Zoe wouldn’t see her in it. The angle of incidence equals the angle of reflection, she chanted silently in her head. It didn’t sound quite right, but it calmed her down.

Andrea head the plunk of Zoe setting her purse down on the counter, then the whisking sound of her skirt as she lifted herself up to sit on one of the high stools. “What am I going to do with you, Jerry?”

Jerry paused, something caught in his throat. “What… uh, what do you mean?”

“Nothing. Can I get some coffee?” Andrea imagined that Zoe sounded sad for a moment.

Maybe she can’t sleep either, Andrea thought. We’re like the Nighthawks at the Diner. That painting… who painted that? The drink rose to her head at the thought, and she had to cover her mouth to suppress a giggle at the thought of Jerry dressed up like James Dean in the popular re-make of the painting. Would that make her Marilyn Monroe, or Humphrey Bogart? She rocked forward uncontrollably in her attempt to control her laughter, and her forehead bumped into Jerry’s thigh. He yelped, and tried to disguise it as part of his answer.

“I… uh, sure.” It was fortunate that the coffee was right there by Jerry’s side. Otherwise, he would have had to make an excuse why his boss couldn’t have coffee. Andrea realized that she was having fun.

There was a rustling of papers, then Zoe’s voice again. “I have the inventory sheets. You can check them before you go off shift. If you don’t finish, give them to Mark when he gets in. There are some errors here, I already noticed. Let me go over the forms for you.”

Andrea sighed silently and brushed a stray hair out of her eyes. The woman was going to be here forever. Andrea’s face felt hot from the alcohol and blinked, instantly bored by the financial talk. She leaned her head forward, onto Jerry’s leg, for stability. Jerry’s leg tightened, but he didn’t move or flinch noticeably like last time. Andrea smiled. It’s your fault, Jerry, that I’m down here. I think that you can stand to suffer a bit.

Zoe’s voice droned on. “I ordered twenty pounds of sugar, but then it turned out that the company measures it in kilograms…”

“Uh huh…” Jerry sounded about as enraptured as Andrea.

Andrea ran the fingertips of one hand along Jerry’s knee, from the outside to the inside, along the top. His knee trembled just slightly through the fabric of his Dockers, and he reached a hand down surreptitiously to push Andrea away. Andrea caught the hand momentarily with her other hand and kissed one of his fingertips.

As Zoe continued on, Andrea traced a soft line up Jerry’s thigh with her fingers, very slowly. Jerry tensed. His gulp was almost audible, but Zoe must not have noticed, because she didn’t so much as pause. “…And next month, we have to remember to order only half normal olives…”

Andrea grinned. She felt deliciously evil. She’d never done anything like this. She would never have done anything like this sober, for that matter. Her fingers made a slow figure eight on Jerry’s leg. He pulled his hand up above the counter, having relented in the fight for the moment. That was no fun. He was supposed to suffer. Andrea furrowed her brow in mock consternation, even though no one was looking. Well, he was a guy…




A Nighthawk at the Diner



At that moment, she would have paid a months salary to see his face when she ran her hand upward and inward along his leg, brushing over his zipper, then changing momentum to trace her fingertips up and down the zipper.

“Whoa…” Jerry’s voice was loud enough to be heard from outside the diner, Andrea was sure of it.

“Excuse me?” Zoe asked, irritated.

“I… Uh, it’s just there are a lot of errors on this one.”

“Good. I didn’t think you were paying attention.”

Andrea smiled again. That was more like it. And at least part of Jerry agreed with her. His slacks were beginning to tent outward toward her. She could see from the shape of the bulge that he was twisted into an angle. It probably hurt a little. Once again, so much the better. Jerry reached under the counter, assumedly to rearrange himself more comfortably, but Andrea gently grabbed his hand and bit a fingertip. Just hard enough to hurt a little. He pulled his hand back above the counter quickly.

Zoe’s voice continued on. Andrea realized that Zoe really did run the whole diner. She knew every detail of the business.

Andrea traced back and forth along the length of the bulge in Jerry’s slacks with her fingers, surrounding it, but never gripping it. She watched it grow in the dim light that escaped into her hiding spot. She flicked the tip with her fingernails, gently and quietly.

“Jerry, are you paying attention to me?”

“Sure, Zoe. You were just talking about… I… The olives.”

Zoe sighed. “You’re useless. When did you tune out on me?”

Andrea could feel Jerry’s shoulders slump. Zoe growled a hmmm that held a definite menace. “Okay, then. I’ll start over from the olives.” Papers rustled again.

Andrea rolled her eyes. What a bitch. Suddenly she felt sorry for Jerry. Andrea only had to put up with her presence. Jerry had to be nice to her because he worked for her. Jerry’s little tent began to shrink, even though Andrea was still caressing the tip. Feeling a bit of competitive disappointment, she cupped him gently in her hand and began to rock her hand up and down. She would keep his attention.

Jerry tried to pull away, but Andrea gripped him more strongly and held him still. Amazing what a little pressure will do, in the right spot.

I just can’t believe that I’m doing this, she thought. And with that thought, she quietly gripped the zipper and pulled it, very slowly and quietly, down to the bottom. Zoe was still on the subject of olives. Carefully, Andrea slipped her fingers into the open fly and hunted for the opening in his briefs. After several long, torturous seconds, almost after deciding that it wasn’t worth it, her fingertips touched his soft hair, and she pulled his whole length out into her hand. He wasn’t huge, but Andrea was always amazed at the size of an erect penis. It must be extremely inconvenient to walk around with one of these things in one’s pants. Some small consolation, considering that women were stuck with pregnancy and cramps.

In her hand, he immediately grew more, stiffening into a spear pointing outward toward her. Under the delicate, silky soft skin, he felt like solid wood. The tiny slit at the tip glistened a bit.

Jerry’s entire body was tense. His legs were locked, and Andrea hoped that he didn’t pass out from lack of circulation. She imagined that his knuckles were white where he gripped the edge of the counter. What would happen if he had to step away from the bar right now? Zoe would certainly get a view she didn’t bargain for! This struck Andrea as hilarious, and she it was an effort of will to choke down her laughter.

“Okay, Jerry. What are you supposed to tell Mark about the plumbing?”

“Uh… The guy will be in at eleven today.”

Zoe sighed again. “And?”

“And what?”

“Never mind. I’ll write it down. Do you have a pen?” Jerry handed her a pen from his apron pocket. There were scratching noises. “I suppose I’d better cover the other details, too. There are a few hours before your shift ends. You might forget something.”

Andrea wrapped one of her fine-boned hands lightly around Jerry’s shaft and gently rubbed up and down, soft enough that skin rubbed on skin. The action squeezed out a fat raindrop of clear fluid from the tip, which Andrea caught on a fingertip of her other hand. Not knowing what else to do with it, she quickly licked the drop off her finger. It tasted of salt and strong musk, and was just slightly sweet. She had tasted it before, but it always seemed new. She was more than just amused now. She pulled the tip down to her lips and licked the little slit clean, then kissed the head, first lightly, here and there. But the taste, not quite pleasant, nevertheless drew her in for more.

He felt much larger in her mouth, and she could feel his pulse faintly. His skin tasted of musk and starch, and was extremely smooth. She imagined that she could taste the whiskey they’d been drinking on his skin. In moments, she began to massage him with her mouth, moving him into her and out of her mouth smoothly by moving her head back and forth. She increased the pace.

Zoe continued scratching notes on some piece of paper.

She gripped the shaft firmly with her hand now, catching the extra saliva that escaped from the edges of her mouth and using it as lubrication to pump him as she sucked. One thought caught her over and over.

I must be really, really drunk.

It didn’t last long. Perhaps that was a blessing. Andrea was surprised when she suddenly felt his hips jump slightly, like a seizure. Her eyes popped open with shock, realizing what was happening, and glanced around suddenly. But there was no time to prepare. The first warm jet hit the roof of her mouth with almost painful force. Thick. Starchy. She swallowed as quickly as she could, still sucking on him, pulling out more spurts, each one slightly weaker than the last. There might have been five or six of them. Later she wasn’t sure. There was a lot of it. She guessed it had been a while for him.

“Oh….” Jerry, apparently, couldn’t keep quiet through absolutely anything.

Zoe kept scribbling. “What?”

“Nothing…” Jerry’s voice was barely more than breath.

Andrea sucked gently as he convulsed several more times, apparently empty now. He began to soften immediately. As soon as she thought she could do it, she gave him a goodbye kiss and tucked him back into his pants very carefully. She toyed with the idea of leaving his fly unzipped, just for the little bit of playful embarrassment, but decided after a moment to zip him up.

Leaning back on her heels, Andrea took deep gulps of air, as slowly and quietly as she could. She absolutely did not believe that she had done that. No matter what she did, she could still taste him. Absently, she wiped her hands off on the towel that she was kneeling on.

“All right. It’s all there, now. Do you think you can handle that, Jerry?” Zoe’s voice was icy again.

“Sure.” Apparently his wit was all used up for the moment.

“Okay. I’ll talk to you tomorrow, then.” Andrea heard Zoe’s skirt rustling, then the tap-tapping of her heels on the floor as she Zoe crossed back to the door. The little bell jingled once, and then there was quiet.

Neither of them moved for a long minute.

Then Andrea broke the unspoken truce of stillness. Her knees ached and creaked as she pushed past Jerry and stood up. She looked into Jerry’s face with a smile. His soft, gray eyes were wide, and he opened his mouth to say something. No, Andrea thought, that would ruin it. He put a slim finger onto Jerry’s lips, silencing him and grinning impishly. After planting a tiny kiss on the tip of his nose, she picked up her purse and walked out.

Always leave a mystery.

Thursday

By the time Andrea woke up, the alarm clock had been buzzing away for an indeterminate amount of time. Her head pounded from the alcohol the night before. Wrenching her eyelids open with an effort, she stared at the clock until it came into focus, then growled and covered her face with her pillow violently. She hated oversleeping. A moment later, she threw the pillow at the clock, knocking it over. It still gave out a pathetic buzzing, though, like a wounded insect. She decided it was time to get up anyway.

All the time she was getting ready for work, Andrea tried not to think about why she already tasted toothpaste in her mouth. Why can’t I black out and forget, like a real drunk? I am such a slut.

She stripped off her T-shirt and her panties and lay them on the bed carefully, and walked naked across the apartment to the bathroom. In the bathroom, she flipped on the light and stepped back away from the mirror to admire herself. When she backed up against the bathtub, she could see as far down as her upper thighs. She ran her hands over her breasts, her flat stomach, and her hips, smiling. She ran her fingers through the newly-trimmed brush of curls between her legs. She sighed. She was still tired, but she felt wonderful. And horrible, at the same time.

During her shower, she put the showerhead to uses its inventors probably never conceived of.

Andrea must have looked even more tired than normal when Mandy came in to work. Or maybe Mandy was just paying more attention, now that she knew that Andrea had had trouble sleeping. Whichever it was, Mandy gave Andrea the concerned mother look as she walked into the cubicle that morning.

“How are you doing, Hon? Still having trouble sleeping?” Mandy set her handbag down on her desk and sat down to face directly toward Andrea.

Andrea sighed. She had known that this was coming. “Yeah, but I’m okay. Don’t worry about me.”

“I’ve got to worry about you. If you get sick, I have all this work to do by myself!”

Andrea pouted melodramatically. “And here I thought you cared.”

Mandy waved her off. “Don’t you give me that. I do care. I’m your friend. But I’m not gonna do all of your work if you let yourself get driven into the ground because you can’t sleep. Go see a doctor.”

Andrea raised her right hand into the air like a Boy Scout. “If I can’t work this out in a week or two, I promise I’ll go see a doctor. Good enough?”

Mandy almost objected, then relented with a nod.

With all the work to catch up on, Andrea ended up skipping lunch and working late on top of it. By the time she finally went home, she was starving, and decided to stop off for something to eat on the way. She didn’t even give it any thought, and by the time she walked in the door she realized that she had absent-mindedly walked right in to Gina’s Diner. The place looked so different by daylight.

Still, it was a restaurant, so she walked in and sat down. The booths and tables were full, so she found a seat at the counter, beside a pretty blonde woman, and ordered a sandwich and fries from the unfamiliar waiter there (“Dan”, his name-plate said). As he left to take the order to the cook, Andrea’s breath caught.

The woman sitting beside her, drinking a cup of hot tea and reading a newspaper, was the manager that she had seen two nights ago. Zoe, her name was. She was wearing a high-necked white blouse with a carnelian cameo pin at the throat, a gray vest, and a long gray pleated skirt. With white high heels. Her hair was just as conservative as before, pulled back in a bun that made her look much older than she probably was.

Andrea swiveled on her stool to face away from Zoe, face instantly blushing hot. Her mind was a jumble of shouts, trying to piece together what to do. She felt a horrible uncertainty about the situation, not knowing what was going to happen if Zoe recognized her.

Andrea froze herself with an act of will.  This is silly. I’m a customer. I’m not doing anything wrong.

That calmed her down a lot.

Besides, she thought, this might be my chance to put something right.

Andrea turned back toward the counter to wait for her order. She glanced over at the newspaper that Zoe was reading. The Wall Street Journal. It figured. Every once in a while, Zoe would put the paper down, take a sip from her tea, and circle make a circle on the page she was reading with a felt-tip pen.

Andrea waited until Zoe had put her paper down and was reaching for her tea before making her move.

She cleared her throat softly. “You’re Zoe, right?”

The woman, caught in mid-motion, froze and looked through her over-sized glasses into Andrea’s eyes. Her eyes, set in a small, pretty face, were a cool faded blue, and Andrea felt a sudden chill. In a moment, recognition set in.

Andrea didn’t wait, though. “We kind of met, on Tuesday night, here, on Jerry’s shift. I was…”

Zoe cut her off. “I remember.” It was simple. Flat.

There was a long, awkward moment.

Andrea decided to break it. She pushed her hand forward in a handshake position. “I’m Andrea. A friend of Jerry’s, but you probably guessed that.”

Zoe raised an eyebrow neutrally, her face a perfect blank. “And then some.” She considered Andrea’s hand for a moment, then reached for it and squeezed it briefly. Her tiny hand felt cool and very soft.

Andrea was just almost to the point of giving up. Instead, she swallowed and went on. “Ah, yeah, well, that’s what I wanted to talk about. He mentioned that you might have fired him because he was fraternizing with a customer. But it was my fault, really.”

Zoe waited.

This woman, thought Andrea, must be an absolutely incredible poker player.

Andrea felt like running. “And, uh… I just wanted you to know that if it’s going to endanger Jerry’s job, I’ll stop coming over to the diner when he’s on shift. I figured that you would be the one to talk to, being his boss and all.” It all sounded so… lame.

Zoe’s eyebrows pursed together. She looked surprised, or perhaps confused. Suddenly, though, her face softened. She wasn’t smiling, but she also wasn’t staring holes in Andrea’s face anymore. There was even, momentarily, a hint of sadness there. Then it was gone.

Zoe picked up her tea, but didn’t put it to her mouth yet. “No. Don’t worry. Jerry’s… Jerry’s job isn’t in danger.” She was staring at the tea, not at Andrea.

Andrea reached a hand forward to set it on Zoe’s shoulder. Her shoulder felt tiny through her vest and blouse, and Zoe recoiled just slightly. Andrea withdrew her hand. “Are you okay?” It felt silly.

Zoe forced her little cupid’s-bow lips into a mild smile. Her lipstick was a neutral, almost flesh colored. “I’m fine. I have been hard on Jerry lately. I’ve been hard on everyone for a while.”

“Why?” Andrea’s question was simple, but it froze time.

There was silence between them for a few moments, if you don’t count the general clamor of the diner around them. They seemed to be in a bubble, separated from the rest of the world.

Then the waiter set Andrea’s sandwich down on the counter in front of her. The moment was broken.

Zoe drank some of her tea and folded up her newspaper. Andrea ate a French fry.

Andrea turned back to Zoe. “So, why have you been such a dragon-lady? It doesn’t seem like the real you. Not that I know you.” After saying it, Andrea realized how horrible it sounded.

Zoe stared at her tea as she spoke. “Something happened a while back. In July.” Her sweet, musical voice was distant.

Andrea should have taken the warning. She should never have asked. But she did.

“What happened?”

Zoe’s voice never changed. “I was raped in the subway on the way home from work.”

Andrea tried to swallow her fry, but failed. She glanced around. No one else seemed to have heard.

Andrea’s mind raced. What do you say to that? How do you take back a question that should never have been asked?

“Oh, God, I’m sorry…” Andrea’s voice was hardly above a whisper. “I didn’t know. I’m so sorry…”

Zoe kept staring at her tea. Her voice kept steady, almost like a chant. “It was in the newspapers. Not a headline, though.” She looked up at Andrea with her washed-out blue eyes. There were no tears there. Her voice returned, and she set her face in something resembling a smile. “It’s okay. Andrea, you said? It’s okay, Andrea. They say that time heals all wounds.”

Andrea felt little better. “Would you like to talk about it? I… I know that you don’t know me, but maybe that’s the best way. You don’t have to worry about what I think.”

Zoe’s perfect lips formed into something like a smile. “No, I’ve talked about it enough. You should see my shrink bill. It’s been a long time. It’s really been toughest on my… on my husband.” She looked away for a moment, as if embarrassed. “I haven’t been a normal wife for him for a long time, now. I don’t know if I ever will. Something changed that night. Or maybe I just realized something about myself…my life that I’d never thought about before.”

Andrea was about to ask what she meant, but decided to leave it alone. How would she feel if she were attacked, violated? Would she ever feel like being touched by a man again? She really didn’t know.

Andrea put her hand back on Zoe’s shoulder. She didn’t flinch this time. “I think I understand. Listen, if you ever do want to talk to someone, non-professionally that is, I’m a pretty good listener. And I don’t charge by the hour.”

Zoe’s almost-smile turned into a real smile. “No. I’m okay, really. I’d better get back to my office, anyway. I’m sure I’ll be seeing you around.” She reached up to Andrea’s hand and gave it a warm, friendly squeeze.

She slipped off the stool and walked around behind the counter, into the back of the store. She looked different to Andrea.

Nothing like familiarity to turn the devil into a friend.

Andrea finished her sandwich quickly. It had been a very strange dinner.

But she felt immensely better about the whole thing.

Andrea made no pretense about trying to get to sleep. She watched television for a while. She touched up her nails. She changed clothes. She sat on the couch and stared at the ceiling. She changed clothes again. She cleaned out her purse. She put some new things into her purse. She changed her clothes, once again.

She wasn’t trying to sleep. She was waiting.

It was hours before she realized that she kept glancing at the clock.

This is so completely ridiculous.

But she knew that she was waiting for midnight.

She left at 11:45.

It seemed like a miracle when she saw that, once again, Jerry was alone in the diner. She tried to look cool when she walked in, not even looking directly at Jerry. She walked with what she knew was her sexiest walk, swinging her hips just a bit. The whole while, she kept her face aloof and cool.

Finally, as she reached the counter, she saw Jerry. That was when she noticed that he was standing leaning on the counter, miming holding a cigarette, in a perfect James Dean pose. Andrea laughed, completely breaking her whole image. Jerry broke too, looking at her and smiling.

Andrea leaned over, reached across the counter, and grabbed Jerry’s shirt, pulling him toward her and into a kiss. Her eyes closed, and she felt his fingers running through her hair, his hand cradling the back of her head, as their lips met. It was delicious.

She pulled back from him, trying to part, but he held her fast for a moment. The instant that she felt herself immobilized by his hands, she felt a thrill run through her, and she pushed back into him. Her mouth opened into the kiss, and she tasted a slight trace of mint on his tongue.

It ended finally. She sank back to her side of the counter, catching her breath. She was satisfied to see that he was trying to catch his own breath, too. Eventually, he was the one who spoke.

“You know, Andrea, you are full of surprises.”

Andrea smiled her best evil smile and walked around to his side of the counter. “I have not yet begun to open my bag of tricks, kiddo.” She ran a hand around the small of his back, holding him to her, and put another hand onto his chest. She could faintly feel his heart beating. His big hands reached behind her to the small of her back, gently kneading her back. He quickly and briefly kissed her lips again.




A Nighthawk at the Diner



“And what tricks, oh mysterious enchantress, might those be?”

She answered by kissing him again. In the midst of the kiss, she reached down and took his hand from her back and put it directly on her breast. His surprise was such that he almost pulled out of the kiss, but she reached up and pulled his head back down to her. His hand, however, knew exactly what it was doing. It immediately formed itself to her breast, softly kneading at it. His fingers searched through the cloth for her nipple, and ran across the little bud teasingly as it stiffened at the attention.

Jerry pulled his mouth free, still remaining just shy of touching her lips. He was breathing hard, and Andrea noted a growing bulge in his groin, pressing into her stomach. “You’re crazy. Anyone can see us!” He nodded his head slightly toward the front windows of the diner. His voice was a heavy, husky whisper.

Andrea’s own voice was a deep whisper. “There’s no one there.” Honestly, she had been worrying about the same thing. Right now, though, it was rather exciting. His fingers caught her nipple through her blouse and lightly squeezed. She felt her body grow weak for a moment, and she held onto him tightly to keep standing.

“But someone could walk by…” His eyes were half-closed, staring at her lips. He was clearly not completely convinced by his own words.

Andrea giggled. “You’re right. Let’s hide.” She bent her knees, sinking down below the counter, and caught a fistful of his shirt, pulling him along with her. He resisted for only a brief moment, though his eyes widened in surprise.

Andrea let herself down onto her back on the hardwood floor behind the counter, pulling Jerry on top of her. Her purse hit the floor a moment before she did, dangling by its strap around her shoulder. Then his weight was on her, pressing into her hips and stomach and chest, holding her down. The movement pulled her skirt up almost to her waist as her legs parted around his hips.

He shifted his weight, pressing his hips into hers and putting his hands on the floor to support his weight. Andrea drew a breath, suddenly aware that she had barely been able to breathe under him. He kissed her neck lightly. “You… really are crazy, Andrea…”

His face was beside hers, his breath hot on her ear. She kissed his ear in encouragement. “That’s right, baby,” she whispered. “You let me know if you don’t like it.” She reached up to the front of her blouse and began unfastening the buttons.

He responded by kissing a hot line down her neck over her collarbone and into her cleavage. “Oh… I like it…” Or, at least, that might have been what he said.

Andrea felt her breath grow quicker in her chest. Her heart pounded. She began to rock her hips slightly against him, and opened up her blouse completely. She had worn her sexiest black lacy bra, the one that left her nipples half-visible through the lace. She reached up to unfasten the front clasp. As she pulled the two halves of the bra apart, she could feel her breasts suddenly spill free, and they were just as quickly swept into a whirlwind of kisses. Jerry’s lips were all over her chest, kissing and nibbling at her. As wonderful as it felt, it tickled, and she giggled again, and wrapped her legs tightly around him.

Andrea ran her fingers through Jerry’s hair as he ministered to her breasts, pressing his face into her chest when he found a spot that felt just right. He suckled hard at each nipple in turn, then lapped at them like a cat, teasing out entirely new sensations from them.

He began to kiss between her breasts, then descended, pulling her legs apart to allow him to kiss her stomach. Andrea pulled her skirt fully up and lifted her hips to allow her to push her panties down. He assisted and pulled them the rest of the way off, leaving them lying on the floor. For a moment, he just looked down at her, her legs spread wide, her body open and uncovered before him.

Andrea felt suddenly self-conscious. “If you don’t want to do this…”

He didn’t even let her finish, as his face descended down, now blocked from her vision by her wadded-up skirt. Her breath caught as she felt his lips and tongue on her, exploring, teasing. Her body tensed, then relaxed, and she pulled her legs wider apart to give him better access.

Oh, it was good. She was only vaguely aware of what he was doing, but she felt pleasure washing over her in liquid waves, and knew that her fluids must be flowing from her in a flood. But he drank her all up, bringing lips, tongue, and fingers to the job of pleasuring her.

She closed her eyes and ran her fingers through his hair, simply enjoying it. Every once in a while, he would do something, she wasn’t sure what, that would tense all of her muscles as if she was a bowstring being pulled, then she would relax. Suddenly, she tensed, feeling something filling her up, something stretching her, pumping in and out at a languid pace. She opened her mouth to tell him to stop, but she couldn’t get it out of her mouth. She realized that it must be his fingers, now deep inside her, now just at her sensitive entrance; they hit something inside her, something that felt… different. An incredible golden friction built.

Then she felt a touch lower. Far lower. Her eyes snapped open at the light touch to a very sensitive area, another opening that she only rarely thought of. She tried to tell him to stop, but her throat closed around the syllables, and the waves of orgasm rose up to her. Every sensation intensified. She felt filled with light. Her legs vibrated uncontrollably and tightened on Jerry, holding his head against her as she came.

Even as her breathing returned to her, she felt the wondrous friction continuing. She looked down, and Jerry was continuing to softly massage her with one hand. Andrea fumbled her hands around, finding her purse and spilling the contents on the floor. By touch, she found what she was looking for, and handed it to Jerry. A condom in its wrapper.

Jerry opened his pants, freeing his (very familiar) erection, and tore open the wrapper and pulled the condom on. He poised over her, seeming unsure.

“Well?” She whispered. “You know where that goes, right?” Without giving him a chance to answer, she reached up and grabbed his shirt and pulled him down to her. One hand reached down and guided him into her.

He froze there, kissing her neck. She could feel something thick just pressing into her very outer opening. He kissed her jaw. She tried to push her hips up into him, but he deftly kept in position. He kissed her cheek. She reached behind him to grab him to pull him into her, but he grabbed both of her hands and held them down against the hard floor.

He kissed her mouth. Her mouth opened to his, and she felt his tongue slip into her. And suddenly, smoothly, his hips pushed into her, filling her body. She tried to gasp, but she was caught in his kiss. She was immobilized, hands held fast by his, mouth caught by his kiss, and hips transfixed by his spear. She opened her hips as wide as she could, allowing him to slide even further in. A moan escaped her, rumbling through the seal of their kiss.

Slowly, surely, evenly, he began to slide in and out of her, impaling her body mercilessly and then pulling slowly out. Heat built between them. Andrea’s body felt as if it were stretched between two electrodes, and the current was slowly being turned up.

He built up speed, and his own quick breathing forced him to break the kiss. With each thrust, his breath would come out with a tiny moan. Andrea opened her eyes for a moment, and saw that Jerry’s eyes were closed, and that his face was trapped in an expression much like intense pain.

Her legs wrapped around him tightly. Her calves pressed against his buttocks, pulling him into her in time with his strokes. She fought against his hold on her wrists, and her inability to succeed at the battle made her heart race even faster. She bit down on his shoulder, tasting his heavy sweat, as much lovingly as ferociously.

The whole time, she had not come down properly from her first orgasm. She was on a golden plateau. But as she struggled against him, it was as if she hit escape velocity, and all her limbs were filled with molten sensation. Her mind turned inward, swallowed by her senses, as if the whole of her universe lay between her legs, as if the nearly brutal thrust and retreat there were the rise and fall of the sun, or the swell and ebb of the ocean.

It went on and on, for long moments. After a time, Andrea became aware of high-pitched, incoherent cries, and realized that they were hers. She bit her tongue to try to keep quiet, which almost worked.

Jerry’s rhythm became faster, and erratic, sometimes skipping. His eyes were squeezed close, and his face was red. Then, for an instant, he froze, and his eyes opened to stare unseeing toward her. Andrea distantly felt a tiny pulse deep inside her.

He took a breath, and focused his eyes within seconds, and started moving again, more quickly, as if painfully. Andrea reacted, and gripped him hard with her legs and held him fixed in her as he finished coming. His breath caught once, twice, three times. His arms lost their strength then, and he fell on her with his full weight. Her hands free, Andrea embraced Jerry softly.

She let him lie there for long seconds, perhaps a minute, soothing him, running her fingers down his back, silently enjoying aftershocks of her own as he slowly coped with his. Eventually, he dragged himself up on his hands above her, and Andrea took a long shaky breath. He looked at her, and his pale stormy eyes were soft with passion spent.

It was quiet, tender, and awkward in the extreme. In the end, she felt him drawing out of her and rising up on his knees, and she pulled away enough to hitch her bra together and button her shirt. She kept looking at him, thinking that she should say something. But nothing came to mind, and so she just smiled at him and kissed him as he composed himself.

As she stood, she reached down and scooped up the spilled contents of her purse, bunching up her panties in with them. She smoothed her skirt down as she straightened up. Jerry stood at the same time, and Andrea gave him a hard hug around the waist that he returned with a soft and lingering kiss.

She felt fulfilled, and exhausted, and delightful, and empty.

She said something, and he asked a question. She said something else, and he reluctantly released his embrace, and she headed around the counter toward the door. The whole conversation was so dream-like that she could never, not even the very next day, remember it properly.

Friday

The walk back to the apartment was long and dark, and she jumped at ever shadow that moved on the way. When she was finally there, she stripped and went right to bed without bothering to put on her panties or nightshirt. She lay in bed for a long time, trying hard not to think. When her alarm clock finally sounded, she had no idea how long she had been asleep.

She felt more tired than ever, but her body felt alive. Every nerve was turned on. The sensation of the cool air on her skin as she walked across the apartment was like a caress. The warm water of the shower ran hot fingers over her, pleasuring every part of her. Her own hands were like twin lovers, lingering here and there, searching her soap-slicked body to find the points of greatest pleasure. She showered for a long time, and as she dried she found that even her towel was a new sensation to her this morning.

But as pleasant as the sensations were, she felt out of control. As if she had taken her feet off of solid ground and were floating without an anchor in strange waters. Still, she couldn’t help smiling.

She took her time getting to work. By the time she arrived, Mandy was already there, working on a pile of paperwork. She looked up at Andrea when she arrived, went back to work after saying her good morning, then looked back up with a double-take.

Andrea, not wishing to explain her new smile, let Mandy stare, and whistled as she went to work. Mandy didn’t bring it up, but did keep glancing toward Andrea throughout the day, the way you might glance at a bomb that may or may not be armed.

Andrea pointedly, smilingly, ignored her. Work was so much more pleasant when you felt you were hiding something.

Andrea stripped down to her panties as soon as she got home and picked up her nightshirt to put it on. Considering it for a moment, she dropped it back where she found it and pulled her panties off as well. The little worn panda looked at her forlornly from the front of her shirt.

It’s my apartment, I can wear what I please. Or even not, as the case may be.

She giggled and danced aimlessly around the apartment for a few minutes, just enjoying the cool air on her skin.

She felt so incredibly sexy.

She could hardly wait to go back to the diner. But time passed slowly. She turned on the television and watched for a bit, not really noticing what she was watching. She cracked open the blinds on her window and looked down at people passing by, knowing that they couldn’t see her eve if they did look up. She found that doing things, even at home, was very different naked than clothed. It was as if she were part of a conspiracy, as if her nudity were an exciting secret to be kept.

She touched up her nails again, even though they didn’t need it. She did her hair. She inspected her body for any style changes she might make, and then went into the bathroom and finished the job that she had started a couple of nights before. The scraping of the razor across her labia felt dangerous, bad, and delicious. When she was done, she spent a long time examining her handiwork, running her fingers and palms over sensitive skin that hadn’t been bare since she was a kid. It made her feel paradoxically infantile and slutty, which strangely turned her on. The skin tingled at her touch, and she felt supremely vulnerable, even to herself. She teased herself, lightly scratching the surface with her nails. She wondered how it would change the sensation of someone else touching her, kissing her there.

At 11:30, she decided that she had waited long enough, and she dressed herself as she had the night before and headed out. She considered omitting panties this time, but decided that she wanted him to do at least some work for this.

She paused as she headed out, but didn’t quite know why.

The little bell jingled merrily as she walked into the diner, and she started walking toward the counter before she noticed that the waiter there wasn’t Jerry. It was the guy that she had seen on the day shift the day before. Her stomach fell in disappointment.

Oh, well, she realized. He has to take a day off occasionally.

She was about to order a cup of coffee anyway when she noticed that the booth by the window was occupied. Zoe was sitting there, looking right at her, one hand on a closed paperback book on the table in front of her. She was wearing a white collared shirt without a tie, with a black skirt and black heels. A black suit jacket lay across the back of the booth. She smiled at Andrea and waved her over.

Andrea walked over, her day-long smiled somewhat fading. Zoe patted the seat beside her. “Hi, Andrea. Can I buy you a cup of coffee?” Zoe’s smile was sweet and genuine, but there was something in her eyes. It looked like concern.

After an uncomfortable pause, Andrea sat down beside Zoe in the booth. “Sure, Zoe. I see you’re up late, too.”

Zoe waved at the guy at the bar. “Hey, Dan. One hot tea for me, and a coffee, decaf, black.”

Andrea opened her mouth to ask how Zoe knew what she was going to order, but Zoe held a finger up for her to wait. When Dan brought over the drinks, Zoe smiled at him sweetly. “Dan, why don’t you take a break. I can mind the store for a while.”

Dan shrugged, looking in turns at Andrea and Zoe. “Sure, Zoe. I’ll be back a little later.” He headed out the front doors. The little bell sang goodbye as he left.

Zoe pulled the teabag out of the wrapper and let it fall into the hot water in her mug, tendrils of dark color almost immediately spreading into the water from it. Zoe watched her mug like she might watch a Zen garden. Andrea sipped her coffee thoughtfully.

“How did you know how I like my coffee?”

Zoe looked up from her mug, her eyes inscrutable. “Jerry told me. We talk occasionally. I had him switch with Dan tonight so we could talk.”

Andrea’s smile completely faltered. “You did what?” Her voice was flat, even though she had intended it to sound angry.

Zoe’s own voice was steady, but she seemed unsure where to start. “Like I said, I wanted to talk to you. Just this once. Once you’ve heard me say my piece, I promise, no boss tricks between you and Jerry. I’d never stand in his way when he might be happy. Or your way, for that matter. We only talked a few minutes, but I really got to like you.”

Andrea’s head swam. “How much has Jerry told you?”

“Not everything, but I can figure out most of what he didn’t tell me. I know you were here last night, from how he was acting this morning.”

Andrea’s heart fell. She nodded, a warm blush starting. There were worse things, she told herself, that she could have found out.

Zoe smiled comfortingly. “It’s okay, dear. I know that you were under the counter when I came by on Wednesday night, too.” She took the teabag from her mug and stirred in a bit of sugar. “I shudder to thing what you were doing under there, though.” Her glance to Andrea as she licked the teaspoon clean told Andrea that she had her guesses, though.

Andrea’s stomach flipped, and she felt her blush go into full force, her face instantly hot. “Why… How did you…” She floundered.

Zoe picked up her mug and took a sip. “Your purse was on the counter, dear. If you’d been in the kitchen, you would have woken up the cook. And we don’t have public restrooms. There was nowhere else you could have been.”

Andrea was simultaneously impressed by Zoe’s logic and totally mortified that she had known what was happening right under her nose. She felt like crawling under the table and hiding. “Oh, man… I’m, like, I’m so sorry…”

Zoe tapped Andrea’s hand lightly with her spoon, still smiling sweetly. “No you’re not. You’re just embarrassed. It’s okay, though. I’m not offended. Just a bit impressed with your chutzpah. I wouldn’t have been able to do that.”

Andrea smiled weakly. “Well… I was a little tipsy…”

Zoe rolled her eyes. “I figured. From Jerry’s private stash of Jack, I suppose.”

Andrea’s head bobbled with surprise. “I thought that it was left over from a cook that left.”

Zoe shook her head. “As soon as that cook quit, Jerry was all over that case. He was telling you the truth, he just sees it differently than I do.”

Andrea giggled. She felt better. “Was this what you wanted to talk to me about, Zoe?”

Zoe shook her head again, her smile faltering a little. “No, Andrea. Well, I suppose a bit, but there’s something I’d like you to know. After I say it, though, like I said before, I won’t bother you two again.”

Andrea felt herself becoming more grave. What was Zoe so serious about? “What? Is it something about Jerry? Is he some kind of pervert or something?” She found herself wondering what kind of perversions would really bother her.

Zoe looked confused. “Well, I could tell you some stories, but that’s not what I mean. He’s married.”

It took Andrea a moment to realize that she had heard Zoe correctly. She gripped the table as if the ground were falling away from her.

Andrea’s voice was weak. “He… But he doesn’t wear a ring…”

Zoe shrugged. “Not at work, he doesn’t. He has to do quite a bit of lifting and carrying, and he read that a ring can get caught on heavy objects and tear away skin. That was his story a couple of months ago when he stopped wearing it, anyway.”




A Nighthawk at the Diner



Andrea’s mind was racing, searching for evidence that what Zoe said wasn’t true. But she couldn’t find any. She really hardly knew him. She had never even seen him outside of his job. What was she thinking, anyway, getting involved like this with a total stranger? She buried her face in her hands.

Zoe laid her cool little hand on Andrea’s forearm comfortingly, but cautiously. “It’s okay. He didn’t tell you. You couldn’t know.”

Andrea felt humiliated, embarrassed, and stupid, and it all started to come out at once. “I’m so stupid, Zoe. I’m such an idiot, I’ve been so tired lately I can’t think straight…” It was like someone opened a floodgate. She started telling Zoe about her trouble sleeping, about her work, about the first time she went out walking and met Jerry at the diner, about the first kiss, about the everything that they had done.

Zoe listened, and put an arm around Andrea. At first, her arm just rested on Andrea’s shoulder, then she was really, genuinely holding her, comforting her, as Andrea talked softly, almost crying.

Andrea slowly got her composure back and put a hand on Zoe’s. She felt horrible, and knew that it was all her own fault. From the beginning, it was all her fault.

Andrea collected herself a bit, her voice totally flat. “Do you know his wife? What’s she like?”

Zoe looked down at her feet. Her smile just almost vanished completely. She opened her mouth to talk, then closed it, and tried again.

Andrea suddenly realized with a physical jolt what she was going to say. “Zoe? You? Jerry’s your husband?”

Zoe nodded, looking relieved that she hadn’t had to say it.

“God, you must hate me. I’m sorry. I mean it, I’m so sorry.” Her mind was a blank. She tried to shrug out from under Zoe’s arm, but Zoe kept her hold gently.

“I said it was all right. Jerry and I haven’t been… We haven’t very close in a long time. Not since last year.”

She didn’t need to say it. Andrea held onto her hand. Zoe continued. “I’m not going to get in his way. He wants you, and I love him. Or I did. But I can’t be his lover anymore. It started before the attack, actually. It’s just, since then, I haven’t been able to force myself to touch him that way. But you can. It’s okay.”

Andrea’s head was still swimming. “So, this is what you wanted to tell me.”

“Not completely. I talked with him about you. I asked him if he had told you that he was married. Then I asked him if he was ever going to tell you. He told me that he wasn’t planning to.”

Andrea was silent for a while. “He wasn’t going to tell me.” It wasn’t a question.

Zoe waited. “Are you okay, dear? Andrea?”

Andrea took a deep breath. “I’ll be okay. I’m sorry.”

Zoe rolled her eyes prettily. “Stop saying that, honey. It’s the mark of unearned guilt. Do you want to be the world’s scapegoat?”

Andrea looked down. “I just feel so awful. But I’ll be okay. Really.”

Zoe squeezed her shoulder warmly. “Are you going to see him again?”

Andrea thought about it. “No.” It was a simple answer. She knew it in her heart. She didn’t want to see him again.

Zoe’s smile changed to concern. “You can. If you want to. I really won’t stand between you. I want him to be happy. I want you to be happy.”

Andrea smiled at Zoe. “No. I don’t want to see him again. I don’t know why I was doing it in the first place, but it wasn’t for love. Or even really attraction. I just needed something. And I didn’t find it with him.” Andrea leaned into Zoe’s hug, hugging her back. Zoe felt tiny, even in Andrea’s arms, and Andrea could feel her heart beating quickly, like a bird’s heart.

Zoe was silent for a long time.

Outside, the soft sound of the wind died down as the wind changed. Something unseen skittered by in the darkness of the street, blown by the wind.

Andrea turned her attention back to Zoe, and found Zoe’s pale blue eyes looking right into hers. Her eyes were big, frightened. Her lower lip trembled very slightly.

Andrea almost spoke up, but something made her wait. It was all she could do at the moment. She smiled slightly.

Zoe’s eyes closed slowly, as she brought her face closer to Andreas. Andrea closed her own eyes, and felt Zoe’s elfin lips touch hers. Just for a moment. Just for a touch. But that touch was enough.

Zoe pulled back quickly, and Andrea’s eyes snapped open. Zoe was looking at her, uncertain. More frightened than before. Vulnerable. Full of questions.

Andrea licked her lips slowly, tasting Zoe on her lips. Her heart pounded and her limbs felt distant and disconnected. She felt warm, without the whiskey this time.

She felt like something inside of her was about to take flight.

She leaned forward, and Zoe met her in another kiss. They fit perfectly.

When she got home, Andrea slept like a baby. And dreamed.