I cant tell no one
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Beggars Can't Be...Chapter 6: An Uncomfortable Sense Of Joy free porn video
Other than the typical traumas associated with retail, I had succeeded in having a calm day upto when Teresa and Julio came in for the evening shift. As an added bonus, Stumpy chose that moment to take his rapid departure. This gave me two hours of relative peace to finish my shift. I even thought I’d take a chance to grab some lunch, while I read a boring bit of geochemistry.
“Hi, Kenny!”
Okay, maybe I’d take a chance to grab some lunch and skip the boring bit of geochemistry.
“Hi, Jenny,” I said to the vision in tight blue denim and white cotton knit who stood before me. “This is a surprise. I thought we were going to get together this evening.”
“Sherry stopped over during one of her breaks, and I thought that she and Kimmy needed some alone time.” She smiled at me. “Besides, I thought I could get a few things for the apartment, now. And then we’d have more time together later.”
“Well, I was just thinking about lunch. Would you care to join me and hear my tales of woe.”
Jenny glanced down at her watch and said, “it’s a tad late for lunch, isn’t it.”
“One doesn’t always get a chance to dine at appropriate times in retail. And after a busy day of not selling books, I’m hungry.” I added with what I hoped were sad, puppy-dog eyes, “I’d love a chance to eat my food-court slop with you rather than geochemistry.”
“Well,” she answered with a totally unconcealed grin, “since you put it so nice, I guess that I could grab a few million calories at the cookie place.”
“Good, I’ll let Julio and Teresa know where I’m off to.”
I didn’t even bother to try to resist the urge and reached over to give Jenny a peck on her cheek. For her part, she moved her head into position to receive it. “I’ll be right back.”
I walked away towards the back of the store where my two best associates busied themselves at their favorite pastime, good natured bickering while pretending that they were doing work. This particular time, they argued (in low voices thank heavens) over the cover models of the “self-help” magazines which they sorted ever so slowly back into order.
“I tell you that she is hot, Teresa.”
Teresa took the magazine Julio held and slipped it behind the plywood barrier which protected any young minds that may happen to pass on the way to the latest Fangore.
“Christ, you are so immature. She has the face of a horse with too much makeup besides. If it weren’t for all the silicon in her chest, you wouldn’t think twice about her.”
“So what? She’s got a nice body.”
Teresa sighed in frustration, “thanks to some plastic surgeon. Those phony udders don’t even feel right. The other night when my husband took me to Omar’s,...”
I cleared my throat to bring them back to reality before things got too obscene, which was always a danger with Teresa.
“Okay, you two. I’m off to lunch, so you can’t stay together anymore.” I pointed over my shoulder with my thumb back to the register. “Julio, you keep an eye on the front. Teresa, I want you to actually straighten the magazines.”
As she went at her task, Teresa glanced to the front of the store. “Who’s the cutie?”
“My lunch date.” Then I added quickly, “so don’t go getting any ideas.”
“Don’t worry about me, Kenny,” she pointed back to the front. “But you might want to get her away from Julio.”
I rushed away as she laughed at my sudden reaction to my plight. Not that I had anything to worry over, because 1) Jenny’s taste wasn’t as bad as I would’ve guessed with her choice of me and 2) Julio isn’t as suave as he thinks he is. Heck, he isn’t even as suave as I think I am.
Thus, without much ado, Jenny and I were seated together in the food court. While I tore into a half of a rotisserie chicken, Jenny nibbled at an extra large chocolate chip cookie.
She shook her head. “You can sure pack away the food.”
“Oh, ‘tis nothing. Besides, I’m told that it’ll catch up with me.”
“I hope not. I happen to like you the way you are.”
“Thanks, I think you’re pretty nice yourself.”
“You’re just saying that because I slept with you.”
“Maybe I slept with you because I really think it.”
“If you really thought I was nice,” Jenny wore upon her face what my father would have described as a shit-eating grin (though why a person eating shit would be grinning is beyond me), “you wouldn’t have slept.”
“Thppt!” I responded (you will note that I have finally found the energy to look up the spelling in -Bloom-County-). I also added, “Well, I was kinda wore out by someone.”
“Really?” Her voice was full of mock wonder. After giving me a chance to inhale a chicken leg, she asked in that same voice, “was she pretty?”
“Very pretty.” I took her hand and held it in mine. “Maybe the prettiest girl I have ever known.”
She turned and lowered her head to hide the slight blush forming on her cheeks.
“You’re just saying that.”
“Yes, I am,” I lifted her hand to my lips and kissed it. “But that doesn’t mean that it’s not true.”
Our conversation settled into more routine and mundane things, subjects that maybe we should have covered sometime prior to doing the sort of things that we had already done.
Back and forth, we traded details about our lives, families, and school days. I learned about her older brothers, and she learned of my little sisters, the obnoxious twins from the extremely bad place with the outrageous heating bills. We even shared the standard complaints about our own personal set of parents, but that soon turned into a contest of bald-faced lies about how awful they had turned our childhood.
“Not only did my father cast me out of home, he did it just because I didn’t tell him how much I liked his latest project despite the fact that it really sucked. I bounced twice when I hit the ground.” She rubbed her fanny for effect. “I had thought I had broken my tail bone.”
Not about to be beaten by that particular bit of solid biological waste, I responded with, “well my mom and dad not only made me clean up after my own birthday parties with just a pair of broken tweezers, they would also tie my hands behind my back and hire the Bee Gees to sing while I did it.”
“Ouch, you win, Kenny,” she said as I tossed the last denuded chicken bone onto the styrofoam plate. “Where did you get that warped idea?”
“Oh! Stories my father would tell me about what would happen to him and his brother.”
“You have an uncle, then?”
“Had. He died in prison.”
Realizing that I had just overdid the candor, I grimaced and hoped that Jenny wouldn’t pry any further than I had already disclosed. I really ought to have prayed as well; Jenny’s elbows hit the table with an audible thunk, and her chin simultaneously landed into the cup of her palms.
“What did he do?”
“Slipped on a bar of soap and landed on a sharpened spoon.” Her eyes made a slow transition from wide-eyed wonder to slited irritation. I formed my mouth into a frown and looked upward as if to concentrate. I decided at last on another suggestion.
“Made license plates?”
Naturally, the second guess had been as totally inaccurate to the sort of answer that she had wanted as the first had been. I was, however, prepared for the resulting response. I easily moved in time from her slap for it to miss.
“Will you quit playing with me!”
“Moi?” I gestured at myself with both hands. “Playing with you? I can’t be; I left my bat and glove at home.”
Alma
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