Storiesonline.net ------- Cream N' Sugar by Ken Randall Copyright© 2008 by Ken Randall ------- Description: Every day at 3:15, a mysterious admirer comes into Cream n' Sugar, the Hooters-style coffee shop where Denise Dalen works. He sees her beautiful glow, and falls in love with her, never realizing that her sexy little blush is the afterglow of a sex romp with her brutish lover. Can this young stranger help free Denise from the control of a man who sees her only as a piece of meat? Can he help her to see that she's more than just a Cream 'n' Sugar girl? Codes: MF mf Mf oral mastrb pett ------- Act I "Didi." "S'up, Deb?" She knew what Deb was going to say before she even said it. She sighed, grabbing the bag of creamers from the mini-fridge under the counter. "Can you fill the creamers before you take your fifteen?" "You ask me that every day, Deb. And, every day, I tell you I was already planning to, before you even asked. It's the routine." "I know. But so is me asking you if you're gonna do it. And you telling me you already were gonna do it." "Yes, I'll do it. You don't have to ask." "Thanks." Denise didn't mind filling the creamer trays. It always made her tingly. She'd learned over the months to associate it with her daily visit from Rod. Rod was also part of her Cream 'n Sugar routine. He came in every day at 3 p.m., just in time for her break. She was a little tired today though. She'd stayed up too late reading a script for an audition she'd been planning to try for after her shift ended. She had the lines down pat, but by the time she'd got to work, she'd lost her nerve. Life had been bumming her out lately, and the last thing she needed was yet another rejection. She couldn't take yet another person telling her she wasn't good enough for a lead role. She decided she wasn't even going to bother. Sigh. At least there was Rod. She tossed two handfuls of creamers into the ice trays at each of the three stations around the coffee shop. She wiped up the spills and restocked the Sweet Stix. Then she went to the cooler, got a scoop, and tossed more ice into the ice trays that were low. "Got any stir sticks for the coffee?" Rude, overly blunt customers were also part of the routine. A snotty-looking businessman was standing behind her looking annoyed that he was required to take fifteen seconds out of his day to ask for a stir stick. "Use the Sweet Stix, honey. Once you empty the sugar out of them, you use them to stir it up. Easy-peasy." "What if you don't take sugar in your coffee?" She tilted her head to one side, looking like a classic blonde for a moment. "Then there's nothing to stir, is there?" She winked at him, gave him a big phoney smile, and tugged her apron off. "If you've got your own sweeteners, you can use a straw. They're right here." The guy was staring blatantly at her chest. That was also expected. When you worked at Cream 'n Sugar, you were warned in advance that sexuality was a big part of the sell. Those easily offended by leering men need not apply. Those without at least a C-sized chest and a pert little ass didn't stand much of a chance at getting hired either. It wasn't the classiest place to work, but the tips were awesome. Cream 'n Sugar, baby. Cream 'n Sugar all the way. "Uh ... Thanks," the man said. "No problem, sweetie. Better grab one of the loungers before the afternoon rush starts. There's magazines on the rack." Now it was time to get prepare herself for Rod. She ducked into the ladies' room and touched up her hair and make-up a bit. She even reached up under her skirt, dipped a finger into the moisture of her crevice, and dabbed some of the scent beneath her ears. Rod loved her scent. That got her a little tingly though, and she decided to give herself a little prep before the performance. That was also part of the routine. She pressed her cheek into the cold brick wall of the bathroom and slid her fingers inside herself. She imagined Rod, the time she rode him in the bed in that hotel room, with The Doors playing "Light My Fire" on the little clock radio, and the scent of the wine they'd spilled filling the entire room. She rode him until she collapsed on top of him, shivering, gasping, and coming hard on his cock, clutching at the sheets to keep herself from flying off into the universe somewhere. The whole room had been spinning that time. Denise couldn't make herself come, standing there in the cold brick bathroom, but she did get herself all flushed, and heated, and wet, and ready for when the real deal came along. She shuddered, shook it off, and gripped the sink to steady herself, staring at herself in the mirror. "I don't want realism. I want magic. Yes, yes. Magic. I try to give that to people. I do misrepresent things. I don't tell truths. I tell what ought to be truth." She recited the lines perfectly, getting even more turned on by the sexy flush on her cheeks. Her hair was a little messy too, like she'd just been fucked, or was just about to be. Finally, she reached up under her shirt and teased her nipples to standing points beneath the thin fabric of her gray cotton T-shirt. One nipple poked out from behind the 'C' in Cream, and the other thrust proudly against the 'a' in Sugar. Nice. Done. She was ready for him. She strolled out to the coffee shop again. Deb looked her up and down from above her glasses. "You know that asshole's never gonna leave his wife for you, don't you?" She went back to restocking the dark roast beans. Denise started mixing up an iced espresso with Caramel and whipped cream. "He might one day. He can't get enough of me. He's here every day. He just needs more ... convincing." "Yeah, that's what they all say, right? And I suppose you're gonna convince him, today, after putting out and getting tossed away with a pat on the head every day for the past seven months?" "You never know. People win the lottery all the time when they're least expecting it. He just might change his mind ... today." "Well, in this case, the only one winning anything is Mr. Tall-Dark-and-Handsome. He's got himself a nineteen-year-old cutie panting after his every whim. He gets to blow his load whenever he wants to, and then go home to his happy little home in the evening and kiss his clued-out little wife and kids. Great deal for him." "Shhhh! Here he comes." Deb shook her head. Rod walked in, five feet and ten inches of pure sexy male gravity. He seemed to emanate strength and power in his thousand-dollar gray business suit and nine-hundred buck shoes. Denise felt the tug in her tummy instantly. She was suddenly sixteen again—blushing, trembling, hungry for his slightest glance, weak in the knees and wetting herself right though her panties. He looked up at her, pulled his sunglasses down, and gave her a good once over. His eyes closed to burning slits, and he grinned. His eyebrows lifted. His gaze burned with lust. "How you feeling, sexy?" he asked her. She could see that he was hard already, and that made her feel wonderful. She suddenly couldn't wait for his thrusting—all that power inside her, making her feel small and ... taken. She almost shivered. "Cream 'n Sugar, baby. Everything's Cream 'n Sugar." "Iced espresso, please. With caramel and whipped cream." "You don't have to tell me that, Rodney. You order that every day." "I'll take that to go as well, sweet stuff. And don't call me Rodney." He dropped a five on the counter and turned for the door. "You know where I'm parked." Then he was gone again. "Asshole," Deb said. "He's real sweet when it's just me and him." "And it works on you every time, don't it?" "I'll land him yet. You'll see." But, deep inside, even Denise wasn't so sure about that. She walked out with Rod's iced espresso in a plastic cup. ------- Act II The afternoon heat hit her hard, almost snatching her breath away. Cream 'n Sugar was so nicely air-conditioned that she'd almost forgotten it was ninety-five degrees outside. She took a deep breath, and wandered around to the alley behind the coffee shop. There, in his air-conditioned BMW-X5, was Rod, relaxing with the seat tilted slightly back, waiting for her. She stepped up to the passenger's side and got in. "We gotta do this quick. I got a meeting." Denise froze like she'd been slapped in the face. Her jaw dropped. Her lip pouted cutely. Her eyes narrowed. Something cold and bitter flooded through her guts. "What exactly are we doing?" "Don't play games, Denise. Not today. I'm in a real hurry." "So what? I'm just your little whore that you can order around, and I'm not moving fast enough for you?" She felt like throwing the drink in his face. "You know it's not like that. You know I love you. I always tell you that. I just don't always have time to get all romantic and shit." "Romantic and shit? Oh, my God, Rodney." "I said not to call me Rodney. And I said I love you. It's just too hot and sweaty out to get all lovey-dovey right now." "Well you could at least pretend to be romantic, even if you are in a hurry. I don't get much else from you. At least give me the illusion that I'm worth more to you than a quick afternoon blowjob and an easy fuck!" Denise was getting a little teary-eyed now. Maybe Deb was right. But Rod turned toward her and gave her the look. The sad frustrated hero look. The look of a man alone in a battle for peace in this crazy mixed-up world, where everyone was on his ass about something. Everyone was making demands on him—from his boss, to his clients, to his wife and kids. And his only solace was the affections of a beautiful young girl. He'd given her the speech a hundred times. Now he simply said it with a look. "Fine," she said, and handed him the drink. He took a sip and smiled at her. And then he caressed her cheek. "You know I love you. You're my little Didi. Someday, I'm gonna leave Allison and run away with you. Take all my money and just leave all the bullshit behind. We can go scuba diving in Monaco at Port la Galère, and make love on the beach as the sun sets in the sea. Would you like that, baby?" "You always know exactly what to say. But someday never seems to come, does it?" "Things are complicated now. You know that." She sighed. The anger went out of her. He was looking at her sideways with that troubled-hero look, and all she could think about was getting that hot dick in her mouth and making all his problems go away. Damn her female hormones. "Fine. Whatever. Let's just do this. Let's just have fun." Then they were kissing. She was instantly wet all over again. His kiss made her brain go all Fourth-of-July and her body shivered like the walls around a rock concert. His hands went to her breasts and he teased her nipples. His fingers made their way into her panties. Then he was stirring around inside her and she felt those sweet tingles, the sparks, the spreading warmth of awakening ecstasy that made her want to be full of him. "God damn, you're a tight one. Oh, my little Didi. Remind me again why I don't say 'Fuck it all' and fly you away to Monaco tonight?" "I ... Uh ... I don't know, Rod. Oh, God..." She was whispering, out of breath and trying to fix her gaze on his eyes, but her eyes wanted to close, her body wanted to lie down and her legs wanted to spread for him. Her pussy wanted more than his thick probing fingers. It wanted the pleasure of his hard, thrusting cock. She glanced out the back window of the truck. Pedestrians wandered by at the mouth of the dead-end alley they were parked in. None of them so much as even looked back there. She broke their kiss and he withdrew his hand, licking the stickiness from his fingers one by one, staring directly into her deep blue eyes. "I was gonna go to an audition later. Streetcar Named Desire. You think I should?" He shrugged, fondling her tits. They jiggled in his fumbling hands. They tingled, distracting her. Why didn't he care? She wanted so badly for him to care about even the littlest aspect of her life. But, instead of discussing her audition, he pulled his cock from his pants and put her hand on it, and suddenly she knew. Suddenly she wasn't so sure even she cared about the audition right then either. She wasn't going to go anyway. She'd already decided. She was just going suck on that nice hard cock, be his dirty little Didi. That was that mattered right then. She kissed him again, and ran her palm up the length of his dick—stroking it, tugging on it, jerking at it as they kissed a little more. It was hot and hard in her hand, ready for her. It was eight inches, and just thick enough to be slightly painful inside her. Her gasps and moans were always real. And, when she occasionally wept while they fucked, her tears were not affected. His cock made her feel like a little girl, small and ... taken. And that was what kept her coming back, time and time again, long after her heart had given up on the girlish ideas of running away to Monaco with him—she was addicted to the ecstasy of his overwhelming male power. She could taste herself on his lips. Her scent on his fingers was turning her on even more. It was the smell of penetration, the smell she sucked from his cock after he'd fucked her. She got him throbbing hard in her hand, and broke the kiss to bow down and engulf him in her hot, slippery mouth. He tilted his seat all the way back, and slid his hands behind his head. And she sucked him off, slowly and surely, losing herself in the hypnotic rhythm of her bobbing and swirling head. She was desperate to please him, concentrating on doing everything just the way he liked it, just the way he'd taught her. She'd only given one other guy head before she'd met him. A shy, quiet boy in high school. He was being picked on by a group of bigger kids, knocked on his ass and laughed at, and she'd felt sorry for him. So she took him in the drama room where she was supposed to be organizing costumes, and sat him down on a mime box. Before he even had a chance to ask what the hell was going on, she had his dick out and was going down on him. It was the first time she'd ever done it, the first time she'd ever even considered doing it. But, once the idea had got into her pretty little head, she just went for it. No looking back. She closed her eyes and took him in her mouth, tasting cock for the very first time. It wasn't bad. She sucked him off for all of two minutes before he climaxed, shocking her with a loud moan that echoed off the walls around them, and a sudden flood of warm spurting goo inside her mouth. She squeaked in surprise, but let him finish, sealing her lips tightly around his erection and whimpering excitedly as he pumped out his load into her hot slippery suction, gripping her head and whimpering like a baby. Then she got up and hurried out of the room without saying a word. She had to walk all the way down the hall with a load of come in her mouth, smiling and nodding at people who said "Hi" to her as she made her way toward the bathroom where she could spit his semen out. "Pleh! Ech! Bleh!" He found her in the hallway a while later and asked her why she'd done it. "Just remember this day the next time someone calls you a loser, okay? You're not a loser. And, if you just stand up for yourself, you'll go pretty far in life." If only she'd taken her own advice. When auditions for the biggest production of the year came around, she was resigned to understudy for Karen Wiggsley, the most popular girl in school, simply because Karen raised her hand and insisted that she have the lead role, even though Denise had already been cast. Denise hadn't spoke up for herself, and she didn't even get to come out on stage and bow with the cast when her parents had come to see her big show. There was a hard throb in her mouth, and she was brought back to reality. Suddenly she was back in the BMW-X5 again. The throbbing erection was Rod cueing her to suck harder. So she sucked harder, and she went a little faster, eager to please. She was all sloppy and slippery, and she moaned whorishly. Her mouth slid up and down on him. Her tongue wiggled and slithered around the ticklish surface of his most sensitive part. And then she sucked hard again, bobbing fast and deep, just the way he liked it. He stammered. He sighed. Sometimes he even panted. She was good at it. Scary good. His moans told her so. And she could feel the excited pounding of his pulse through his cock. His heart was beating a mile a minute. At least she was good at something. "Ah, yeah. Suck on it, baby. More tongue. Yeah! Just like that. Feels so ... fucking... good..." Two minutes went by. Rod always lasted a lot longer than two minutes though. Even when they occasionally rented a hotel room, and she was free to go down on him for as long as he wanted her to, he usually lasted ten, fifteen minutes before finally spurting off in her mouth with a drunken little laugh that made him sound like a goofy little kid. Just like Christopher. And she always swallowed for him. But there in the car, she was only down on him for a few minutes before he was nudging her to get her panties off and her skirt up. She popped off his cock with a wet slurp and licked her lips. His dick was hot, wet, slimy, and glowing red where her suction had pulled in extra blood. She jerked at it with her hand and rubbed it all over her face, adoring it. His dirty little Didi. She grinned at him with lust and pride, and gave it one last deep sucking bob with her eager little mouth, making it even redder. "Yummy..." And now she would get fucked. Damn, she needed it too! He slid his pants down and she swung her leg over his lap to straddle him. A beautiful young girl was mounting a half-naked man in a luxury SUV, and still nobody down the end of the alley so much as looked. Denise reached down and adjusted the aim of his prick onto her clenching little hole. She was wet for him, really wet. And, when she dropped her cute little ass downward, he popped right inside, breaking through the tight muscular ring of her opening and sliding in an inch or so in a quick, short slice that made them both gasp with instant pleasure. She giggled. He released a panting sigh, suddenly feeling her heated wetness crushing the end of his cock in a tight slippery sucking kiss. "Ooh, there it is," she breathed. "It's in." "God... So good." "Uh-huh!" And she sank down some more, wetting his cock with her arousal, and then pulling off again with a hot little tug that made him flinch inside her sweet little tickle-trap. Then she sank down again, and this time she conquered half his length. And he was thick too. Her hands trembled and she had to hang on to the armrests to steady herself. She was panting shamelessly. She could feel him stretching her as he opened her up with his shaft. Her inner muscles tightened against his invasion, resisting him proudly with all their strength, but yielding in the end nonetheless. Her slow, struggling descent upon him was well lubricated, and her reluctant squeeze gave way, permitting his delicious advance. He was trembling too, but grinning happily as he held onto her hips, feeling himself slowly swallowed up inside this gorgeous young thing. She pulled off a bit more, and sank down again, and finally she was at the bottom of him. Her entire length was full of him, and then some. Her pussy was yawning wide, struggling around his width, and she felt the sweet ache of being too small for him. She felt overwhelmed. She felt taken. And that was just the way she liked it. "Gorgeous," he said. "Oh, God. Mmmm!" Rod was only the third man ever to enjoy her, but he was by far the largest. She'd lost her virginity to a guy named Craig a few hours after her prom. She'd been fairly drunk, and it was totally unplanned, but he was cute and sad and sexy. His date had ditched him and she felt sorry for him. And, when he got her alone in the hotel room he had rented, she just let him have his way with her—kissing her, feeling her up, going down on her, and then busting her cherry across his cock and taking her all the way to the bottom. It was the first time she'd ever been taken. It had hurt like hell, of course, and the blood stained the hotel sheets, but the memory of it always made her hot, even though the poor boy had come after only ten or twelve strokes. She'd fucked a director too, Jack Aaron, after auditioning for a part in a play. It was a huge production and there were hundreds of beautiful young women in the waiting room with resumés bigger than hers. She went through her lines and he didn't seem impressed. So, when he put his hand on her hip to adjust her stance on stage, she let him, and when his hand slid up to her breast, she didn't remove it, and when he kissed her, she kissed him back. The next thing she knew, he was fucking her across a couple of mime boxes. He moved her into three of four different positions on those mime boxes too, with practiced ease, while the rest of the girls waited outside the door for twenty minutes. And, when he finally took her from behind, banging into her sweet little bottom as he rapidly massaged her clit, she had her first ever orgasm with a man, bucking and grinding against him, trying not to scream out loud. Moments later, he pulled out and squirted his seed across her jiggling ass. She hurried out of the building, all sweaty and flushed, glowing with obvious fuck. She got dirty looks, but she hardly noticed. She was in a daze. He had simply taken her because she looked like she might let him, and he'd been right. But she never did get the part. Then she'd met Rod a few weeks after starting at Cream 'n Sugar, her first real job. He swept her off her feet, flirting and charming her right out of her panties within the first week, an innocent and impressionable eighteen-year-old. He had two tickets to see Phantom of the Opera, and she accepted his invitation. And, when he asked her out for drinks after, she accepted that too. And, when he invited her back to a hotel with him, she went. And, when he pressed his amazingly large cock—to her young eyes anyway—against her lips, she opened her mouth and sucked on it for him. She wasn't very good at it though, so she lied and told him she was a virgin. He suddenly got all crazed with lust, and just took her and fucked her for three straight hours, in every possible position, leaving her weak and shaking, covered in sweat, and spit, and come, and trembling like a little girl. That's how it began. Now, seven months later, she'd been reduced to a quick afternoon fuck in his truck every day—little more than a glorified masturbation session for him. She always complained about it at first, but she always surrendered. She didn't like to rock the boat. She didn't like to upset him. But she'd been finding herself less and less in love with him the past month or so, the more they'd settled into this routine. Lately she'd only been doing him out of pure lust, and habit. But she still held some hope of him changing his mind. There was still the dream of Monaco. And that dream drove her onward even now. She bounced up and down on him, jiggling and wriggling and moaning for him, feeling hot and shaky and sexy and fucked. The truck wobbled on its axles as she worked his cock in and out of her tightness, winding her wet little wiggle all around on him, enjoying every twitch, every throb, every shiver he made beneath her, inside her. And his hands wandered all over her flesh, enjoying her body as his cock enjoyed her sexy little crush. "I love you, Rod. Your little Didi loves you. You love me?" She was out of breath and could barely speak. His cock was so big. Every move he made inside her was all sweet burning tickles. "Oh, God, yes! It feels so ... Uh! Fuck!" But he never looked her in the eyes. She worked toward an orgasm and got herself there fast. She knew she would only have a few minutes more. He was a little too big—and, as he got more and more excited, he began hitting her a little too hard. But it still felt good in a way. She was able to get herself off by imagining mime boxes. When the ecstasy took her, she ground down hard on him and moaned like an absolute whore. She was suddenly tighter, hotter, and louder, gushing out her wetness in a sweet warm flow that trickled down his balls. He came seconds later, feeling crushed and tripped right up into ecstasy by her slick fluttering climax. Suddenly he was adding his own liquids to the mess inside her. And, when she felt him throbbing and spurting his hot sticky come, her orgasm started all over again. And there were tears flowing down her cheeks. The sight of them made him thrust even harder. He apparently fucking loved that. The emotion of regret, of being used like whore, and the last remnants of the heartbreak she felt were wrong in that moment, though. So she converted it to hot angry sluttiness, snarling down at him like a dirty little bitch, with tears in her eyes, just the way he liked it. "Ah, God! Oh, yes! Gimme that come, baby! All the way in! Come on, you fuck! I want it all inside me! I wanna feel it!" "Uhng..." he babbled, bumping up against her in short jerky thrusts as he pumped out the last of his orgasm onto her hungry little cervix. "There..." he stammered, weak as a schoolboy beneath her. "There ... Ah, there..." She squeezed on him with her pussy again, hard, gnashing her teeth as she did. Angry. And he flinched. He shivered. She took a few more trembling little grinds on him and finally surrendered to the conclusion. The fuck was over. She collapsed down on top of him and lay there panting. Everything tingled and oozed and shivered. But she felt empty in her soul. She was lying across his chest, listening to his heart beating, feeling him stroking her hair, and just wanting to stay there all day, dreading the words she knew he would say, the words he said every day. She was not angry anymore. She was just sad. "I gotta get going, Denise. Can you get up? I got that meeting." "I can hardly feel my legs. Gimme a minute." But he pushed her up. She squeezed him gently with her pussy one last time, begging him to change his mind, but he pushed again. His cock popped out of her with a wet gooey slurp, and plopped down onto his stomach, defeated by her luscious womanhood. She dropped into the seat beside him and patted herself dry with a paper towel from a roll on the floor of his backseat. Then she got her panties back on while he tried to explain how late he was, yanking up his own pants and paying more attention to his wristwatch than the woman he supposedly loved. "Enjoy your drink," she said, and slammed the door. "See you tomorrow!" he called out, but she didn't look back. She was looking down at a business card she'd scooped up off the floor of his truck while grabbing her panties: "Rodney P. Matheson, consultant." And there underneath a whole bunch of other useless information, was his home phone number. Interesting. ------- Act III "Prince Charming's here," Deb told her when she came out of the bathroom after freshening up a bit. She still looked freshly fucked—it was completely obvious, but at least she didn't smell like it anymore. She'd quickly washed her hands, brushed her teeth, and dabbed on some perfume. "Huh? Who?" she said, slurring a bit. Deb shook her head. "Prince Charming. The boy who built you a castle. Remember? God, that man must have some kinda cock to mess you up like that every day." Denise didn't answer. She gave her head a shake and started mixing a mochaccino. Prince Charming was a quiet little college boy who sat in the back of the shop every day, drinking an endless stream of mochaccinos, and building little architectural structures out of creamer cups and Sugar Stix. He even brought his own glue. They called him Prince Charming because he'd built an entire castle on a paper place mat one day, and he'd offered it to Denise as a gift. It still sat on top of the shelf where the extra filters were stored. They called him Prince Charming because they didn't know his name. None of the girls did, even though he came in there and sat for two hours every single day. All they knew about him was that he was an engineering student. "What's he building today?" Denise asked. "I dunno. Haven't gone over there. He'll need that mochaccino soon though. He's running out of empty creamer cups." "I'll bring it." She finished the drink and walked over, still feeling a little wobbly between her legs, and incredibly warm and tingly all over. Her hands were even shaking a little, but she steadied the cup on the tray and set it down in front of him. "Whatcha building there, Prince Charming?" "What does it look like to you?" he asked, not looking up into her eyes. "It looks kinda like a mini-mall maybe." "Kinda. Maybe. But why build a mini-mall?" "Why not? I've built everything else." He lifted two empty creamer cups he'd glued together and stuck them around the edge of the roof. Then he opened two more, spilled the cream into his mochaccino and added some sugar, and suddenly he had two more cups. "You know, you can just dump out the cream and sugar and just use the empty cups. You don't need to keep ordering coffees." He stopped, and slowly looked up at her. And, for the first time since she'd known him, he looked directly into her eyes. He just stared for a moment as though she'd said something profoundly tragic. "That would be such a waste." She blushed hot pink all over again, suddenly feeling naked in front of him. There was something about the way he was staring at her. He was staring at her like he knew her. "Guess you really like cream and sugar, huh?" "Love it," he said, and finally tore his eyes away. Denise found herself delighted by his smile as she walked away to serve another customer. Suddenly there was a loud angry voice sounded behind her. "Denise!" She spun around. It was Rod. What the hell? "What are you doing here?" she asked, gesturing for him to lower his voice. "I thought you had a meeting." "Where is it?" he said, too loudly, making her flinch. "Where's what?" "You know damn well what? What were you planning to do? Phone my wife?" Oh! The card! Denise's guts suddenly tightened up into a burning knot. "I don't know what you're talking about!" But there was a lie in the tremble of her voice. "Don't bullshit me, Denise. The card was on the floor. I remember dropping it. And now it's gone. It didn't just disappear. I drove all the way back from downtown to get it. Now hand it over." "You're being paranoid. I don't have your stupid card." He calmed down a bit, seeing her suddenly upset, seeing people starting to murmur and point. "Look, we got something nice going here. Don't go ruining it. Don't start playin' these games, these little blackmail games. It's not gonna work. I'll take you down like the useless little slut that you are." Now it was Denise who was talking too loud. Her eyes widened. Her mouth dropped open. Her face burned hot like she'd been slapped. "What the fuck are you talking about? You bastard! You asshole! Oh, my God!" "Just gimme the goddamn card!" Everyone was staring now. Denise was horrified. Denise was disgusted. But mostly, she was incredibly sad. She didn't cry though. He loved it when she cried. Instead, she just went bitterly cold. "Keep your voice down. I don't have your stupid fucking card." "Don't fuckin' lie to me!" And then he grabbed her arm, hard. "Where is it? Give it to me, you little bitch!" Suddenly a steaming hot drink was thrown into his face. He gasped, released her arm, and stumbled backward a couple steps. Denise stumbled backward as well, rubbing her arm where he'd crushed it in his angry grip. Rod hollered. Rod swore. Denise looked over and saw a young man standing there. Prince Charming was stepping in between her and Rod. "You little bastard! Cocksucker!" Rod shoved him, but the young man stepped forward again, pointing into his face. "That is no way to treat a lady." "What are you doing?" Denise said from behind him. "You miserable little prick. This suit costs more than you make in a month." Rod's face was red, and steam was rising from his shirt. "Why do you put up with this guy's crap every day, Denise? Can't you see what a self-centered, egotistical little worm he is? Can't you see that he's only using you?" Rod sneered at him. "Okay, little man. You asked for it. You think you can step between me and my girl? You think you can be a hero here?" "What are you doing?" Denise squeaked at him. He was about to get the thrashing of a lifetime. She tugged at his arm, spinning him toward her, but he shook her off, only turning half way. "Just doing what I have to, Denise. Once upon a time, someone once told me that if I stood up for myself I could go pretty far in life. Maybe you heard that somewhere before." Denise—shocked, stunned—was frozen in place by the sudden revelation. "Christopher?" Christopher smiled at her, but only for a moment. Rod grabbed him and shoved him over a chair. He fell backward and landed on his ass, obviously out-muscled by the bigger, stronger man. Denise was suddenly disgusted, revolted that this man had ever been inside her, had ever enjoyed her. Denise looked down at Christopher, suddenly seeing him as a puny little teenager again, all clumsy and awkward in the hallway at school. Now he was on the floor again, on his ass again, looking as undignified as ever, and yet so much stronger now. She looked over at Rod and didn't see five feet ten inches of sexy male gravity any longer. She saw a wet, red-faced asshole whose only concern was himself and his spurting erection, and not getting busted for screwing around on his wife for the past seven months. There would be no Monaco for her. And, she realized, she didn't even care any more. He'd never even planned to take her anywhere. He'd been playing her all along. "Gimme ... the card ... Denise!" He panted at her, puffing himself up like a gorilla. She was disgusted. She felt her hands close into tight little fists. If you stand up for yourself, you can go pretty far in life. "Gimme the Goddamn ca... !" Pow! Her fist flew out, and she knocked him right over a table. Seven months of hurt, letdown, shattered hopes, frustrations and lies exploded out of her all at once. His legs went up and over, the table collapsed beneath him, and his head hit the concrete floor with a loud smack. He was out cold. Denise slowly lowered her fists, standing there panting, like she'd just come in from running a marathon. Then there was applause. People even got up out of there seats and stood there clapping. "Nice job, Didi!" "Way to go!" "Asshole deserved it." "It was self-defense. Everyone saw it, right?" "Fuckin' A." Denise helped Christopher to his feet, and they stood staring at each other for a moment. "Are you okay?" she asked him. "Fine. How are you?" "Cream 'n Sugar, baby. I'm just peachy keen." Still grinning, still panting. Her hair was all flustered and fucked, and he reached up to pull a strand from her face and tuck it behind her ear. "You sure do pack a wallop. Remind me never to use you for sex for months on end." "That would be such a waste," she told him, looking him directly in the eyes. "Do you wanna go for coffee?" he asked her, after a moment's dreamy gaze. "No," Denise said, grabbing him by the shoulders. "I want you to take me to an audition. I wasn't gonna go, but you changed my mind." Then Christopher went back to the table, and brought her the sculpture he'd been building. "I lied to you. This isn't a mini-mall. It's a stage. I was hoping I'd see you on it one day." Denise brought her hand to her mouth, too struck with awe to speak. Then Christopher added more. "You so would have upstaged that stilted bitch Karen Wiggsley." Denise giggled. Denise gave him a great big hug, and then she pulled him toward the door. "Let's go! I gotta be there in fifteen minutes." "Go ahead, Didi," Deb said. "You've only got an hour left on your shift. I'll cover for you." Denise and Christopher stepped over Rod's unconscious body as they went toward the door. They were holding hands. She was in a mad hurry, but suddenly she stopped in front of the Cream 'n Sugar coffee shop and kissed him hard. "Still got that cute little birthmark on your balls, Christopher?" she asked. "I miss that little birthmark." She laughed at him and they hurried across the street to her car. ------- The End ------- Posted: 2008-08-12 ------- http://storiesonline.net/ -------