I grew up in what was a loving family at one time. Somewhere along the way, my parents no longer saw eye to eye.
At sixteen years old, I wanted out of my house. The fighting was too much to take. The only way to get out was to get a job, save money, and move to my own place. I also needed a car to get to work, and my dad gave me one of his old cars. It was not beautiful, but it worked and was safe.
My parents told me I could take a job, but I would have to quit if my grades suffered.
I took a job at The Belle, a restaurant known as a fine dining restaurant. It serves southern food like fried shrimp, steak, fried chicken, and jambalaya. All the food is made from scratch, including soups, salads, dressings, pies, and the like. The Belle has a full-service bar with booths and bar seating. On the outside, it is shaped like a boat. It was open for lunch, but it was mostly a night restaurant.
I started as a busgirl at sixteen, and it paid very little, but I did get tips from the waitresses. Most of the waitresses tipped well, except this one, Fran. She was also the most demanding. She would tell me, “Anna, that table needs refilled water. Did you get the salad plates away from that table over there? Dinner is coming in just a minute.”
On and on she went, and the sad part was that all the things she requested were already done. She just needed a reason to bitch.
I did not know then that she held one of the keys to the mystery surrounding this restaurant.
My boss and owner was a man we all called simply JR. I later found out that his first and middle name was John Richard. He had the creepiest laugh and smile. He was one of those who had to talk to you with his face one inch from yours. He treated me well except for the constant ogling of my body.
I enjoyed my job for the most part. I liked watching the chefs and thought I might want to become one day. I always liked cooking with my mom before my parents no longer ate together.
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I was asked if I would like to become a cheerleader in my junior year of high school. I thought it was an honor to be asked, but when I found the hours, I had to put in, I knew it would interfere with my job.
My friends were disappointed that I had said no.
Two of my friends, Brandy and Shea, told me, “Anna, you are the prettiest girl in school. You just have to be a cheerleader.”
Getting out of my house was more important to me at that time. I did wonder if someday I would regret my decision.
I had a boyfriend who was a star pitcher on the baseball team. He was the first guy I had sex with.
We kissed for the first time at a school dance. I loved being held and kissed. It was what I thought love should be.
We dated for about three months before he said to me, “You know my friends have sex with their girlfriends. I want to have sex with you. What do you think?”
I said, “I don’t know about that. I am not on birth control, and unless you are ready to be a dad and marry me, I don’t think that is a good idea.”
He frowned and said, “Okay, I understand. How about a blowjob? That won’t get you knocked up.”
I knew nothing about blowing a guy, only what I had heard from my friends. So, I thought, maybe it is time I tried.
I said, “Stan, I have never given a blowjob, but if you want one, I am willing to try.”
He smiled ear to ear and unzipped his pants. This was only the second cock I had seen in real life and not in pictures. The first was when I was young and saw my dad accidentally getting out of the shower. I left and wondered if I was going to grow one of those.
Stan was hard, and I touched his cock, and he told me, “Start by stroking it. Then, when I ask you to stick it in your mouth and go back and forth like you are using your hand. Don’t use your teeth. That hurts.”
I put his cock in my mouth and did what he told me to do. I had felt tingles before, but it was clear what they meant this time.
I was not sure I would like to blow him, but I did not mind it. I like the feeling of control and knowing he was getting pleasure from this.
He was pumping my mouth after just a minute and holding the top of my head in place so he could fuck my mouth. I knew he would cum, and when he did in less than two minutes, I was surprised at how much cum he had. I swallowed all of it.
After he came, he said, “See, that wasn’t too bad, was it?”
I shrugged my shoulders and said, “I guess not.”
He wanted a blowjob, it seemed, every fifteen minutes after that. I blew him in his car. In my car, on the baseball field, the football field, everywhere you could think of.
He loved playing with my boobs as I blew him. It became a habit not to wear a bra to school so he would have easy access to my boobs.
After the first blow job, I knew he would want to fuck me at some point. Our school had a place where they would send us to go and get birth control. So, I did.
Our relationship grew from there, and I did what so many girls did at my school and lost my virginity in the dugout of our baseball field. I thought guys used the dugout as a badge of honor.
It was an early summer, and we were walking hand in hand close to the school when he said, “Anna, I know you said no to sex once. Have, by chance, you reconsidered? Have you gotten some birth control?”
I looked at him, smiled, and said, “Just by chance, I did get some birth control.” I think he became hard instantaneously.
He said, “No shit. Really?”
I replied, “Yes, no shit, I did. Did you have someplace in mind? I think I am ready to have sex.”
He said, “How about the dugout? No one will be there, and it is private down there.”
I said, “It’s dirty down there. I am not putting my bare ass on that bench.”
He said, “I will run home and get a blanket. You know I only live three blocks from here and will be back in a flash.”
I nodded my head, and off he went. I knew he could run fast while playing baseball, but he returned in record time. I was not sure how he ran so fast with a hard-on.
We went into the dugout, and he set the blanket down and fluffed it as best he could.
He then walked over to me, and we began kissing. He slid his hand under my shirt and caressed my boobs. I undid his jeans and belt. His hard cock slipped out into my hand, and I began stroking it as we kissed.
We stopped kissing, and he took off his pants and shirt. I watched as he did, then I took off my shirt, and he watched me. He undid my pants and slid them down to my ankles. I kicked them off, and then he slid my panties off of me.
There I stood naked in the home team’s dugout. He knelt to his knees and began licking my pussy. This was the first time I had someone eat me. It felt good, and I had goosebumps all over. I spread my legs to make it easier for him. I know he could hear me moan as he licked me. I was ready for his cock. I wanted to be fucked now.
We went down on the blanket, and I opened my legs to let him put his cock. He slowly slid his cock in me, and it hurt.
I said, “Please go slow. This hurts a little.”
He nodded his head, and the head of his cock barely slipped in and out of me. It still hurt, but I began to feel better the more he fucked me. I bit my lip and moaned as he continued fucking me. He never put the total length of his cock in me. I suddenly felt a splash of his cum in me.
He fell off of me in a heap and said, “Fuck Anna, that was more than I dreamed it would be. That was great. How was it for you?”
I said, “It felt good the more you did it. At first, it hurt.”
Then I laughed and said, “I could get used to it, given time.”
We kissed for a long time, got dressed, and he walked me home.
That was not the last time we made love. What I said about getting used to it came true. We both wanted sex after that first time. I craved the feeling of his cock in me. When he would cum in me, it made me feel like an adult. I loved having an orgasm and how good it made me feel.
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I worked in the restaurant from my junior year into my senior year. I would be eighteen right before I graduated and set that summer as a goal to move out. I needed more money, and being a busgirl did not cut it.
One day, I went to my boss and said, “Mr. Holmes, I was wondering if any job here pays more. I am willing to do anything.”
He looked at me with a creepy smile and said, “The only thing you are qualified for at your age is dishwasher. I would hate to see such a pretty girl working back in that part of the kitchen. Please call me JR. Everyone else does.”
I said, “That won’t bother me. Is there an opening back there?”
He replied, “Not yet, but there will be in two weeks. Earl just gave me notice yesterday.”
I said, “Please, JR, may I have the job? I need the money. I promise to do a good job for you.”
He said, “Okay, you can have it. We will have you try it for two weeks, and if I am satisfied with your work, then you can have it permanently. You know your hours will change, right?”
I asked, “I think I do. What will they be.”
We went to his office to look at the schedule, and I saw my new hours and gulped. I worked about sixteen to twenty hours a week. The new schedule had me working all the time, thirty hours a week, and some nights, not getting out of work until two a.m.
I said, “I think I can do this. Who needs sleep anyway.”
He said, “Look, Anna, if this is too much, then don’t do it.”
I replied, “Please let me try, and if it gets to be too much for me, I promise I will tell you. If it does not work out, then look at it this way. You will have a trained backup dishwasher. “
He nodded his head and said, “Okay. You will work directly under the chefs, and what they say goes.”
At first, I struggled. I got the hang of it after about three weeks. JR was right about the work. It was hot and steamy by the dishwasher. My complexion began to suffer. The trays of dishes were heavy, and the pots the size of a small tub were hard to clean, not to mention how heavy they were.
My boyfriend was not happy with how much I worked. I had little time for him and our romance. He told me more than once he may have to look for a new girlfriend. I was still driven by the need to get out of my house. As the summer neared, my parents separated, and living there became impossible.
All was going well at work until one Saturday. I worked early on Saturdays. I had to work at six AM. My job was to clean restrooms and whatever dishes and pots were left over from the night before. I also had to pick up the old wooden slats behind the bar and clean them and mop the bar floor. I swept and mopped what was needed in the restaurant. I also helped in the kitchen when I had the time.
When I was sweeping the restaurant lobby this Saturday, they had a big, braided rug up front. It had to be ten feet wide by twenty feet long. It was heavy and dirty. I decided to take it out back of the restaurant and beat the dirt out of it. I also wanted to sweep and mop the floor. As I pulled up the rug, I saw a silhouette of a woman’s face in a gold outline and engraved on the tile floor. I thought nothing of it until JR showed up.
He looked at me and said, “What the fuck do you think you are doing? I have that rug there for a reason.” His face was turning a bright red.
I said, “All I was trying to do, JR, is clean the floor. You see how nice it looks now.”
He screamed out loud enough that the head chef came out of the kitchen to see what was happening. He said, “If you ever take that rug outside and clean it or even pick it up, you will be fired. Do you understand me, Anna?”
I had a tear in my eye and said, “Yes, sir.”
He huffed off and went to his office.
I saw the head Chef look at me and shake his head.
I was at a loss as to what I had done wrong.
I returned to the kitchen crying and asked the head chef, “What did I do wrong?”
He looked briefly at me and said, “I might tell you one day. It will cost you if I do.”
I sobbed my way through the rest of that day.
From that day forward, strange things happened to me while I worked in that restaurant.
To be continued.
