A Touching Interview
HELP WANTED: ASSISTANT FOR NEW GROCERY.
TAKE INVENTORY. STOCK SHELVES. GOOD PAY.
Gliding by on my bike on that hot June day, I almost don’t see the sign. The white paper on which it is written has come unstuck from the shop door. It flutters in the breeze like a come hither wave. I turn down the quiet side street. The street consists of warehouses, a taxi lot, a large self-storage place—not the sort of road that would have a lot of foot traffic. It seems a strange location for a grocery shop.
A bell tinkles as I walk in. The smell of new paint is in the air. The shop is the size of your typical mini-mart—about four aisles wide. The shelves are clean and empty.
At the counter, a tall, heavy set man looks up from behind the counter. I think I see his eyes flare with interest.
“Hi, I saw your sign in the window. Do you still need the position filled?” I’ve walked my bike into the store, and now lean it against an empty drinks fridge. The fridge has not been turned on yet and is still dark. I catch my reflection as I approach the counter.
In the two weeks since I’ve moved, I’ve been riding my bike all over, looking for work. My honey brown hair is now streaked with blonde from the hot summer sun. My arms and legs look toned and tan. I wear a white tank top and cut-off denim shorts. I notice with some embarrassment that my white tank is a bit damp. My berry sized nipples show through the white fabric clearly. The owner’s eyes are on them as I tug the shirt away from my round, full breasts.
“Yes, yes, I need the position filled.” The man says. He speaks with a slight accent I can’t place. “Do you have experience?”
As I tell him about my previous jobs, the tall man walks from around the corner to stand in front of me. I’m only about 5’5, and he is much taller, about 6’3. He is largely built, with broad shoulders and powerful arms. He isn’t fat, but has a big belly. I can’t help but notice this, because as I talk, he keeps walking closer and closer to me, until his protruding belly s touching my breasts. I can feel the warmth of his skin through his T-shirt against my nipples.
I blush, but I do not want to move away and offend the man. After all, he might be my new boss. So I continue to answer his questions, with his big belly pushing right against my breasts.
How old am I? Just turned 18. How long have I lived here? Just moved into the area two weeks ago. I rent a room from a woman in town. Do I have a boyfriend?
What a strange question! I’d dated a few boys at my rural high school, fooled around in the fields and at parties. I was no virgin, but I hadn’t had much experience. I hadn’t wanted to lock myself into a relationship. I knew the moment I graduated, I was out of there!
At this last question, I shake my head. “I’m not seeing anyone at the moment, sir.” I say, “Why do you ask?”
The man smiles and shrugs his broad shoulders. “I just want to make sure nothing will distract you from your duties. Come…” With that, he surprises me by putting one big hand on both of my shoulders and steering me towards a back room.
The back room has wooden floors in need of a good sweeping. The metal shelves against the back wall piled high with unopened boxes. By the storage room’s sole window is a small desk and chair. It’s stacked high with papers and files.
But I barely notice any of that, because the shopkeeper has kept his big, meaty hands on my shoulders, even after he’d steered me to the room. Now he rubs and squeezes the soft, bare flesh of my upper arm as he bends to whisper in my ear.
“Do you think you could help me organize all this? The boxes and the paperwork?”
“Yes sir.” I whisper, trying not to shiver from the feeling of his hot breath against my neck. My lower belly has a quivery feeling from his hands on my skin. Suddenly, he turns me to face him.
“And you can start tomorrow, from 10-5?” He tells me the pay. It’s double what I earned in my last job!
“Yes sir, thank you, sir!” I’m ecstatic. I was down to my last bit of money and was so afraid I’d have to use it for a bus ticket back to my boring home town. But now I have a job!
The big man slides his hands down my arms to hold mine. My hands are dwarfed within his big meaty ones. “You are very welcome, my dear.” I watch in surprise as he brings each of my hands up to his full, moist lips and kisses the tender flesh inside the palms.
“Now, how about a welcome hug? Would you like that?” Before I can answer, the big man draws me to him. “Put your arms around me.” He commands.
Very surprised, I do as I’m told, putting my slender arms around his neck. When I do, the man bends down, and lifts me up, his arms crushing me to him in a strong embrace.
I close my eyes in embarrassment as the man buries his face in my neck, kissing the soft skin several times as I cling to him. My breasts are pressed flat against his chest. The feeling of his mouth on my neck makes my body shudder against my will. I pray he doesn’t feel that!
“Please, sir…could you put me down, now?” I whisper, after a few moments. He has moved his mouth up to my cheek, his kisses coming perilously close to my mouth.
“But of course, my dear.” He says, letting me slide down gently, so that I feel my breasts move over the lump of his belly. However, he keeps his hands on me as he walks me to the door, rubbing my shoulders, rubbing my back. He seems to feel the need to keep his hands on me, to keep his hands on my young body and move me as he sees fit.
“Excuse me,” I say, just as we are by the door. “But what is your name?”
The man turns me towards him roughly. He bends down to put his face close to mine. “You will call me ‘Sir’ and only ‘Sir’. Do you understand?”
“But don’t you have a name?” I ask.
The man whirls me around again. THWAP! I feel one of his big hands come down hard on my buttocks. The blow is so hard I feel it right though my denim shorts as though I were naked. I cry out with surprise and pain. If he hadn’t been holding my arm with his other hand, I would have fallen forward.
“What is my name, Ella?” he asks me in a stern voice.
“It’s Sir, sir.” I whisper. He lets me go.
“I will see you tomorrow, 10 am sharp.” The shopkeeper calls after me from the doorway. I nod, relieved to be back on my bike, even though my bottom still throbs. Relieved to have my body to myself.
“What a pig!” This is from my new housemate, Chloe. We are sitting at the kitchen table, drinking cheap, red wine. “You do know that he was testing you, right?”
“Testing me for what?”
“He was testing you to see what he could get away with, touching you, kissing you, smacking your bottom. He’s a pig!” She laughs.
Any other woman would have sounded indignant when she said this, but Chloe almost sounds like she’s talking about a naughty teenage son. She is a fiery red-head with a toned dancer’s body, a fat ass and a full, pouty mouth. Three things which stand her in good stead, she told me, in her job as an escort.
Just like I’d told Sir, I’ve only lived here for a week. I rented a room in Chloe’s small bungalow. The room is en-suite, with its own bathroom, and separated by the kitchen from where she entertains her in-call clients. It doesn’t bother me, though to be fair, Chloe has only done outcalls in the week that since I’ve moved in.
“Are you sure?” I ask. “Maybe he’s just really affectionate. Or maybe this is the first time he’s worked with a girl and he doesn’t know what’s acceptable and what’s not.”
At this, Chloe throws her head back and laughs. She refills both of our wine glasses.
“Trust me, he knows what he’s doing. Just try not to let him pull that hugging game tomorrow. Unless…” She studies me over the rim of her wineglass. “…you kind of liked it.”
“Of course I didn’t!” I protest, feeling my face grow hot. Then I add. “Tomorrow, I’ll just keep my distance.”
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