I notice some patrons with near empty glasses and I rush to refill them hoping people are feeling generous tonight. I’ve been here six hours and have less than twenty dollars in tips, you’d think this uniform would help me out a little bit. Maybe people are stiffing me to buy their booze tonight; it is New Year's Eve after all. Whatever the reason, I hope it turns around.
Lane
“Are you sure you’re not staying the night?” Jill whispers as she runs her finger up and down my bare chest. Lazily I lean over and kiss her ear.
“No, I told you I was going out with my family.” It's New Year's Eve and we've been messing around long enough for Jill to know I always spend this time with my family.
“What are we Lane? What do you want?” she asks, looking uncertain as she rolls towards the spot I’m sitting in to put my pants back on.
“I like what we have.”
“I don’t know what we have. You come over, have sex, sometimes you stay and sometimes you don’t. I would think after a couple of years we would be moving towards something more.”
“What do you want?” I ask, knowing this conversation has been a long time coming.
“I can tell you I don’t want to waste anymore time if this isn’t going anywhere. We’re both twenty-six, I can’t wait forever.”
“I don’t know what I want, Jill. I know I like hanging out with you. The sex is great, but outside of that, I don’t know what I’m feeling. Maybe with time I’ll know but I don’t right now.” I speak honestly; I’ve never intended to lead her on.
“Why haven’t you asked me to go out with you and your brothers? I haven’t met your family yet.”
“Do you want to meet my brothers?” I ask. I’m not trying to hide Jill from my family and leaving her out of my plans has never been purposeful.
“Yes. I’d like that,” she says.
“Well, ok. We can meet up with them next week,” I respond, hoping to satisfy her even if it’s only temporary.
“What’s wrong with tonight?” She asks and it dawns on me…. Shit!
“My parents and aunts and uncles will be there,” I confess and I know for a fact that I’m not ready to introduce her to the only women I hold on a high pedestal.
“Just go,” she says in a small voice, sounding defeated as she rolls to the other side of bed and away from me.
“I’m not there yet, Jill, but it doesn’t mean I won’t be.”
“I want more, Lane. Please, don’t lead me on.”
Not knowing what else I can offer her at this point, I get up and walk out the door deciding to head to the small diner a few blocks over so that I can eat and think about this before I meet up with my family. I know I need to make a decision before I see them; they’re going to know if something is weighing on my mind. Family is family and they’ll force me to let them in whether I want to or not.
I head back to a corner booth and start thumbing through the menu halfheartedly, unsure of what I want to eat or do in my personal life.
“What can I get you tonight?” the waitress asks me in an overly sweet and completely unauthentic voice that’s still so recognizable. I have to look up to see her face.
I should leave… now. She’s wearing a tight-as-hell uniform that barely covers her ass and I’m certain if she bends over, I would be able to see what I so desperately should not see. My eyes slowly travel up the rest of her body and it has me wondering if she’s wearing that purple lacy underwear I caught a glimpse of last week when she uncrossed her legs in class, the school really should do something about those cheerleading uniforms.
I’m not trying to stare, but this little ensemble outlines every curve of her tight body and her small breasts are practically busting out of the yellow dress. I really need to leave. When I meet her eyes again, I can see the embarrassment in them.
“What’s good here?” I ask half-heartedly, trying not to make this any more humiliating for her than I know it already is.
“Connie’s double fried steak burger is good. It probably has over a million calories and it’s far from heart healthy, but it’s ohhh-so-delicious.” She explains, exaggerating the word ‘oh’ by licking her lips. She needs to fucking stop. Is she trying to tempt me? I clear my throat as I drop the paper napkin into my lap in an attempt to cover her obvious and infuriating effect on me.
“I’ll take that and a coke, please.” I quickly respond, still staring at the menu, hoping she'll leave quickly.
“Ok. Make sure you get some cardio in after this burger.” She says innocently as she turns and saunters off to her next table.
Fucking Christ. I can almost feel what it would be like to have her balled up underneath me, while I slam my dick deep inside her and then start pounding her hard and fast. Take that for some cardio.
I shake my head; I don’t know why I keep going there. She’s a student for Christ sake! I hate when those news stories come on - teachers having sex with their students. It’s sick. I know she’s eighteen, but just because she’s legal doesn’t make it ethical. I feel guilty for thinking about her that way, I’m sure that’s why she seems so embarrassed. I’m likely not the first and only one tonight to let their eyes linger on her body just a moment too long. I’ll have to eat quickly and get out of here. After winter break is over, I need to power through those next five months with my head down.
To get my dirty mind off of Mallory’s ass, I try to turn my attention back to Jill. Why am I not rushing to put a ring on her beautiful hand? On paper, she checks every item on the list for what I would want in a wife. She’s funny, beautiful, smart, mature and gives an excellent blowjob. I could love her; maybe the reason I worry is because I want my family to love her. I probably should’ve invited her tonight. Maybe if I see her getting along with the women in my family, I’ll start to see her differently.
My thoughts are interrupted when I hear Mallory's voice. “Please don’t touch me,” she says with a disgusted tone. I notice she’s bent to the ground and in the process of standing back up with her ass facing straight towards a table full of middle-aged men.
I have to hold onto the edge of the table to keep myself from jumping out of my seat. With white knuckles clutched to the table, I try to calm down. She seems to be holding her own against these assholes, but what happened? I wonder if one of them grabbed her ass and I’m forced to hold myself down in this booth once again.
I sit and observe a few more minutes once she's walked away from the table. The guys sitting there are laughing loudly and I can tell they’re drunk; so drunk that one of the idiots knocks a few dollar bills on the floor. I would pick it up for him but he doesn’t deserve anyone’s help. You would think men our age would’ve grown up by now. I mean we’ve all seen pussy; we’ve all had it. If you’ve seen one you’ve damn near seen them all.
When I see Mallory headed to my table, I notice she looks sad and it’s bothering me. I know she gets a lot of guys like these who are inappropriate, hell, I’ve heard talk about her in the locker room. I decide to keep the conversation light.
“Here you go, Mr. Stone,” she says while placing my food on the table.
“I have to admit, Mallory, I’m looking forward to the burger.”
I notice she shifts from one foot to the next and replies, “ Well, I hope you agree. Would you like some ketchup?”
“If it’s as good as you say it is it won’t need any ketchup. I’m trusting you here!” I tease.
She smiles a little smile and says, “After you’re done, you might want to run a few miles. I wasn’t lying when I said it was delicious and completely unhealthy.” With that, she playfully walks away.
As I start to take a bite of my ‘ohhh-so-delicious’ Connie’s double fried steak burger, I notice she bends down to pick up the money that man had dropped and ah yes, I was almost right. Though I can’t see everything, I can see that it’s pink lace that outlines her ass- not purple this time. Not only do I see it but the men do as well and I realize quickly that the asshole dropped
the money on purpose.
“Here you go,” Mallory says quickly, trying to hand the man back his money. He takes it and in an unbelievable and enraging move, drops it again right in front of her face.
“If you bend over again, you can keep it this time,” he slurs.
My white knuckles can’t keep me in my seat anymore. I jump up. When I get there, I'm immediately livid at what Mallory has just done. She actually bent over again; she showed her ass to that fucker’s whole table for the three worn out dollar bills he tossed on the dirty white-tiled floor.
“Get back to work,” I say in a low rumble that comes out almost like a growl. It might have come across much more threatening towards her than I meant for it to. I notice her small jump as I grab her arm and start to push her to the back of the counter.
“You got a problem?” the drunken man asks.
“Get up and get the fuck out. Now,” I demand.
“We haven’t even started eating... but this sandwich isn’t what I want to eat anymore.” He teases, trying to look around me at the red-faced Mallory.
Complete and utter rage fills my body, and when his buddies laugh with him, I can’t help but take their plates and throw them outside onto the snowy ground so they can go eat like the animals they are.
“Go fucking eat then,” I bark at the now slightly less talkative group of men, pointing to the piles of food on the ground outside the thin glass door. I notice how quiet the restaurant is, aside from all the noise I’m making, when I catch myself listening to the quick beat of some tune that must be playing in the kitchen.
“Mr. Stone!” Mallory says in an attempt to chastise me but her voice only comes across whiney.
“Mallory, I said get back to work,” I bark out angrily; I’ll deal with her later.
Mallory is pacing frantically and I know she’s uncertain about how to deal with this situation or with me for that matter. You can read in her dumbstruck expression that she isn’t equipped to deal with this. She shuffles over to me quietly, and without making any eye contact whatsoever, she attempts to reason, “Mr. Stone, they’re paying customers.”
“Yeah, we’re paying customers.” the drunk man says, flashing his yellow smile. “Now bend on over baby, and maybe I’ll drop a couple more singles on the floor.”
The man chuckles to his friends and faster than I could stop and weigh the consequences, my hand was behind his grimy, useless head smashing it face first into the Formica table top which was the same mustard yellow as Mallory’s tight little uniform.
I can tell I’m losing it and judging from the shocked look on Mallory’s face she knows I am too.
She rushes to put her arm through mine and I can feel her small hands knotted together in a fist struggling to try and pull me away from the table of men. If I weren’t so focused on being pissed off, I would laugh at how easily I’m able to shrug out of her delicate hold and keep my footing in front of the table.
“Mr. Stone!” Mallory desperately interrupts once again, and once again, it pisses me off. If she isn’t going to defend herself then I’m going to have to.
“I’ll fucking deal with you in a minute,” I say over my shoulder to Mallory while grabbing the man by his greasy shirt collar and pushing him headfirst out the door. His much more restrained buddies followed quickly and quietly out the frosted glass door. I’m surprised that not a single one of them protested, but I’m equally as relieved as I watch them step over the remnants of their forfeited dinner without a single complaint under their breath.
"What's your problem, dude?" the drunk fuckface asks from his position on the ground when I step outside to make sure they’re not trying to hang around.
"Just go. Don’t come back and don’t even think about laying a hand on her," I snarl, looking down at him, hoping this is enough to dismiss him.
"She didn't mind... I think she might’ve wanted me too. She could've made more, I would've paid to see more." He gloats pitifully from his position on the soggy concrete and I take a deep breath to keep from dragging his belligerent ass into traffic. This time when I speak, I address his friends instead of him.
"Get your friend the fuck out of here. I'm sure you'd rather spend your New Year's Eve anywhere but in the hospital."
They scurry around silently to pick him up and put him in the car. I turn away from the pitiful sight of them trying to help themselves and I don’t move until I can no longer hear the feeble rev of the rusty Ford’s engine.
Once they're gone, I decide to stay out in the cold air a little longer to try to get a grip on whatever came over me inside that diner. Between my brothers, cousins, and I there are six boys. Pissing each other off and beating the shit out of one another was something that just happened; I’m used to that kind of thing. What I’m not used to is being jealous and territorial, much less over a student!
"What the fuck, Stone?" I whisper to myself. I take a few more deep breaths to calm myself before I head back to deal with Mallory. I still can’t figure out what she was thinking. Silently thankful that only a couple members of the kitchen staff witnessed my behavior, I walk back inside.
Mallory is standing rigidly in front of the booth, clearing off what remained on the table. But there wasn’t all that much left seeing as their plates were on the ground outside, nevertheless I walk over to the booth and attempt to help.
“I’ve got it, Mr. Stone,” she says bluntly as I move to pick up a glass and she snatches it before I’m able to wrap my fingers around it. I can tell she’s irritated with me, but she isn’t the one who should be irritated. She’s showing her ass to everyone for a few bucks and she’s irritated? I know I need to cool it; I have to keep reminding myself that I have no right to care.
“You knew he was dropping money on purpose and you still bent down?”
“It’s none of your business,” she says matter-of-factly as she continues to work, ignoring my presence for the most part.
“Do you bend down like a little whore for all of your customers?” The words leave my mouth before I have a chance to stop them. This night just went from bad to worse. I know it.
“Whores make money,” she says with a look of detached sadness in her eyes and a quickness in her voice that exposes how completely honest she is being in this moment. I’m certain my mouth must fall open at her unexpected and painfully true counter argument.
“Why would you whore yourself out for money?” I only ask because I need to know.
“I need the money," she admits shamefully. "Now please finish your food and leave,” she says as she stands back up straight and carries a tray full of glasses back behind the counter.
Something about the way she buries her sadness deep inside of her, it consumes a part of me I didn't even know was there. It’s eating away at me and driving me crazy, and suddenly, I’m no longer hungry as I walk back toward my table.
I take a few sips of Coke to try and let the bubbles and caffeine recharge my body a bit while I gather my thoughts. So, Mallory’s a whore. And I’m not sure if I’m more disappointed that a student's life has come to this or that it’s hers in particular. I finish my Coke and grab my wallet when I hear her say in a professional tone, “Would you like a refill, Mr. Stone?” I stand up and throw whatever money is in my wallet on the table without looking her in the eyes.
“No, thank you.”
“See you Monday, Mr. Stone,” she says in the same tone. How the fuck is she so calm? I'm boiling on the inside and she's fucking calm.
Mallory
Just great. Mr. Stone thinks I’m a prostitute; I didn’t help the situation any by agreeing. In a way I am kind of a whore, I think to myself, feeling ashamed. I knew what those men were doing, and I know any self-respecting girl wouldn’t have gone along with it. But my need for money was all I had on my mind in that instant, and if my lace covered ass could earn me a few extra dollars, so be it. I honestly didn’t think it would bother me this much though. I’m not a whore; I’ve never even had sex for God's sake!
I was sixteen when my father died and even before that, sex was the last thing to cross my mind.
Now even if I wanted to, I couldn’t. I can’t bring them back to the motel and I honestly don’t want to have sex with anyone. Amy teases me that I need to find a random guy and get busy. She uses sex as her stress reliever and she’s the calmest person I know. Me? I feel that it's supposed to be special. Plus, I've got too many plans for my life to let something like sex get in the way. Maybe after I’ve gotten into college I’ll do it. Right now, I have to worry about facing Mr. Stone on Monday. I don't even want to imagine the thoughts running through his head.
I get to his table and start to clear it, going through the motions absentmindedly as I start to think about the homework I need to do when I get home. But when I get to the tip, I notice that there’s a lot of money there. Holy fuck! It’s one hundred and sixty-four dollars, that motherfucker! I’m insulted and hurt at the same time; I can't and won’t accept this! Of course, I need the money, but I refuse to accept pity money. But maybe it isn't pity money after all; maybe he was just making sure I felt like a whore. Mission accomplished.
Chapter
6
Lane
I glance at my watch; it’s about an hour before midnight when I arrive at Hansons. I took my time driving here. I found myself sitting at stop signs and red lights, every thought consumed by the fantasy of going back there, taking her away from that trashy diner and getting her the hell home. I wonder if her parents have any idea what she’s doing, selling herself for a couple of wrinkled one-dollar bills. What the fuck kind of parent puts their child to work like that? Much less a beautiful girl like Mallory. If I ever have a daughter she won't walk out of my house wearing anything like that uniform Mallory has on, I wouldn’t allow it.
Lane (Made From Stone Book 1) Page 4