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Did I feel any bit of guilt of having the groom pound me from behind in the linen storage room? Not one bit. In fact the notion made me bite my lower lip and buck back into each and every one of his intentional thrusts.
Not five hours earlier I received a nasally, stuffy call from my friend Jenny. She actually sounded ill as she pleaded in desperation for help.
“You know I wouldn’t ask you if I had any other choice. I asked everyone I could think of and no one else was available.” She coughed. “And I just can’t miss another day. Greg’s gonna can my ass.”
“I really don’t think so Jen, I mean I don’t even know how to make a drink.” I said trying to figure out how to get out of it.
“It’s really easy. You don’t make anything. Just walk around with a tray all night. It’s good money and it’s open bar. No bills or checks.”
“I don’t know Jen. You know I don’t even like going to weddings in real life, let alone as a job.”
“Oh please Helen! I can’t lose another job. And plus this is at the Carlton Club, everyone’s going to be loaded..and drunk which means lots of tips. I bet you’ll clear $200 if they get drunk enough.”
The thought of an easy $200 raised my eyebrows. It made me wonder if Jenny knew that was exactly what I needed to pay for my GRE exam. I had been cutting back hours at work to study which made me virtually broke and the last of my student loan money was spent ages ago on concert tickets I didn’t want to tell my parents about.
“Okay, what do I need to do?”
Jenny explained it was was your typical reception at the Carlton; booze, cake, and the chicken dance. As she was talking to me I walked down the hall to her apartment and knocked on her door.
“Hold up Helen, someone’s at the door.”
I might have rolled my eyes at that point.
“Oh good! I was going to invite you over to give you the uniform.”
“Uniform?” I responded with a grimace.
She beckoned me in and stuffed more used Kleenex into her pockets. She looked like death rolled over. She pointed to the only clean clothes in the entire place, a navy blue polyester polo shirt with a large logo of a white sailboat on the left breast and a black skirt with traces of old grease stains that would never wash out. It smelled a little like laundry soap and french fries.
“So like Carl is going to be working tonight and he’s cool. He’ll help you out and stuff. But like totally avoid Greg if he shows up, he only checks the sign-in sheet to make sure everyones there and like totally leaves right after, unless he’s being bitch and wants to do “quality” check or something. But he doesn’t do really do that. Well, not often anyways.”
“Greeeat.” I mumbled as I neatly laid the polo over my arm.
“So like the dinner starts around 5 so you supposedly need to be there like at 3, but if you show up like around 4 or something you can miss the setup and shitty stuff.”
I nodded my head and started heading out the door.
“Thank so much Helen. And oh yeah..here.” She said, handing me a rectangle name tag with JENNY written in white.
Back in my apartment I looked up at the wall clock, it was already 3 and the drive to the Carlton Club was at least 20 minutes if there wasn’t traffic. I shook my head into my hands before getting into the uniform that I soon found to be less than flattering. Jenny being five inches shorter than me made her appropriate length skirt graze the ‘can’t sit down ever’ boarder on my thighs and the polo fit like a mu-mu just around the chest, yet another reminder of her well endowed assets.
I made a mental note, “She’s going to have back problems when she’s old.” It still didn’t make me feel any better as I stuffed the hem into the skirt’s waistline. I looked up at the clock, pursed my lips and threw on my favorite vintage Doc Martens and headed out the door.
My beat up Nissan Sentra stood out glaringly as I pulled up at the gate to the Club.
The guard at the post with his deadpan face said, “Help parks in the back.”
“Of course.” I said. My sad little car found its ‘people’ in the back corner near the dumpsters where all the other help parked.
I found two guys with lazy cigarettes on their lips with their heads down looking at their phones while holding a conversation of a sort.
I walked up and asked, “Do you know where Carl is?”
“Yeah.” The guy with the freshly cut gotee responded. “Why?”
“I’m suppose to ask him for help.”
“Jenny told me about you. I’m Carl.” He tossed his cigarette behind the dumpster. “Follow me.”
Carl showed me the ropes as enthusiastically as someone waiting in line at the DMV. He explained how the bar service worked, the kitchen, storage rooms, and said, “Just follow what the other girls are doing. It’s not rocket science.”
The next hour or so I folded napkins and sorted trays and tried to stay out of the way of the wedding planner who ran around like a chicken with her head cut off. I had to admit the place looked nice; flowers on each table, Kuşadası Escort perfectly quilted cake, a string quartet setting up, and the 50 year old DJ in the background waiting for his turn to ‘pump up the jam’.
Not long after, guests started to trickled in. Immediately I knew how the rest of the night was going to go. The overly primped women clammered about wine and old married men smiled too easily with winks as they tenderly requests something on the rocks. It wasn’t really so bad, especially since Carl tended the bar and made some humorous remarks about guests.
“You think the guys bad, wait until later when the spinsters are drunk and start pinching asses.” He said shaking his head in a laugh.
The lights dimmed and the bride and groom were announced. As the two made their way in, a round of applause and tapping of glasses ensued. When I finally got to see the two, they looked like a Tommy Hilfiger ad, perfectly all-American. She was a blonde haired doe eyed princess in a $10,000 a dress. She was radiant, all smiles, and probably smelled like roses. The groom was a tall sandy haired, statuesque, captain of the football team type. They sat at the main table as more tapping of the glasses flooded the air and forced them to kiss over and over.
Dinner service sucked. I had three tables, far less than anyone else out of pity, but even that was too much. I served chicken to the fish people, fish the beef people, and the vegetarians were lucky to get anything at all. What I did find out is that although I might have not known what I wanted to do with the rest of my life, I was positive it wasn’t this.
Toasts were made in the usual manner with random old women holding their hearts in a flutter when they heard the story of the couple. The picture slide filled with childhood images and early dating photos. It played in the background during the first dance, cake cutting, and tons of champagne toasts. I stood near the dance floor with a tray of fluted glasses that look less cheap in the dim light. The bride floated to and fro in her huge white dress, engaging in light conversations with her adoring guests. Her perfect beauty contestant smile flashed with eye contact and waned as she rolled her eyes in a turn. I stood in the same spot and whenever requested handed a glass to whoever signaled me. The bride came closer and closer in her balloon dress. I wondering if I should have a glass ready for her, but then realized I really didn’t want to make the effort and stood motionless. She floated, I stood still, she swirled, I stared off at nothing, she hugged, I counted the hours on my feet, and then she turned. She turned into me, into my tray, and into flying champagne all over her dress.
In slow motion I stepped back only to hear, “You stupid bitch!” She was not smiling her beauty contestant smile any longer. I reeled my head back and cut myself off before saying exactly what was on my mind. It struck me at that moment it wasn’t my job I was going to lose, it was Jenny’s.
“Oh. My. God. You stupid stupid bitch. Do you have any idea how much this dress cost?!?! It’s ruined, just ruined! You are so fired!” the bride screamed as her flocking bridesmaids came flying in with looks of shock and awe. A few tried to dab the dress as she slapped her hands away.
“What’s your name? Jenny? Is it? Well Jenny, you’re dead. Where’s your manager?”
I shook my head and tried to mouthed ‘sorry’ or something like that.
The bridesmaids scurried around and took her off to a corner to clean up the nearly invisible splashes on her dress.
I thought, “Fuck me.” and proceeded to pick up the glasses and mopped up the drinks with cocktail napkins. I went back to the kitchen to straighten up my tray and really just get out of the situation. I sat in the back with Carl who was laughing at what he saw when I heard the bride raging in the front service area.
“Where is the manager? Where is he? I want that bitch fired now!”
Someone must have told her that Greg had already checked in and was out long ago to my relief. I heard the bride stammer out, I swear I could hear the swish of her dress.
“Fuck she’s pissed.” Carl said pushing a pack of cigarettes back into his pocket.
“Tell me about it. Can I bum one of those?” I asked.
“Not in years, but I need one now.”
Carl tapped one out and handed me book of matches. “I better get back in there before the spinsters start serving themselves.” He chuckled. He pointed to the service door in the back before he headed out.
I sat on curb and inhaled my first cigarette since high school. It tastes like shit. Three drags in a guy burst out the back door and started pounding his head against the brick wall.
I thought about not saying anything, but the thumping started to sound a bit more severe.
“Are you okay there?” I asked.
“Oh hell, I didn’t know anyone was out here.” He said as he tried to peer into the dark corner where I sat. He walked towards me. I recognized him as Kuşadası Escort Bayan the the groom. His tie was unraveled and his tux buttons undone. When his eyes finally adjusted to the dark he shook his head. “You. Oh..yeah sorry about Ashley in there.”
I assumed Ashley must have been the bride.
“No big deal.”
“She can be pretty intense.”
“I gathered.” I said I took another disgusting deep drag.
He lifted his chin towards me, “You got another one of those?”
“I don’t smoke.” I said.
“Yeah, it looks like it.” He said sitting next to me. He was so tall that when he squatted down his knees came up over shoulder height. He wrapped his arms around them and leaned forward.
“No really, I don’t. I had to bum this one off the bartender.”
He looked longingly at it between my fingers. I lifted it up and asked, “Want a drag?”
He didn’t hesitate and swiped it from me and took a long cough filled drag. “God these are gross.”
“I know.” I looked over at him. Even in his somber stare he was gorgeous. His ever so long eyelashes brushed his cheeks and he had a slight upturn at the corners of his perfect mouth. “Isn’t it suppose to be the happiest day of your life right now?” I asked taking the smoke from his fingers.
“I guess so.” He said shaking his head.
“You’re so convincing.” I laughed, licking my lips.
“You know, I don’t know why I’m going to say this to an absolute stranger, but this all seems so fucked.” I handed him the cigarette. “I’m fucking married. I’m 22 and married.” He shook his head and rubbed his nose with his thumb. “Ashley’s already talking about kids, my mother is cutting the membership check to Ladies Who Lunch, and Ashley’s father put me on payroll at his company.”
“Sounds like you’ve got it made. I don’t even know what I’m going to do tomorrow. Actually, I’m applying to grad school because I don’t even want to start my real life yet.” I said kicking and missing over and over the little bit of gravel by my toes.
“Neither do I. I don’t know what I want. But I guess it’s not about me now, right?” He asked looking at me squarely in the eyes.
My God he was beautiful. I wanted to kiss him right then. I wanted to comfort him and tell him everything was going to be just fine. I wanted to hold him, feel his face against mine. I pulled the cigarette from his fingers slowly, I lingered a bit longer than I expected. I felt an immediate tingle between my thighs when I realized the skirt had hiked up to almost an obscene height. I straightened my legs and tried to pull the skirt down a bit to no avail.
The cigarette was at the end of its life. One puff left. I looked over at him and said, “Do you want the last drag?”
He motioned me to have it. “I think you need that more than me.” I took in the last drag slowly, holding smoke in my lungs as long as I could.
He smiled and laughed, “I lied, I wanted that last drag so bad I’m willing to suck it out of your lungs.”
I don’t know what I was thinking that split moment, but I parted my lips. His eyes widen. He leaned in, our lips almost touching, I exhaled and he sucked in. He threw his head back coughing and laughing.
“Oh God.” I started laughing. “We’re so pathetic.”
In my laughter I didn’t realize my face being cupped in his massive hands until his lips pressed against mine. I was kissing him back. I was kissing him hard. I pulled his shoulders toward me, grasping, leaning, pulling, and fighting for each kiss. He rushed his hand between my exposed thigh and pulled them open. He squeezed my thigh and my clit pulsed.
He broke away from our kiss looking around. I wondered if he was scared he might be caught kissing the ‘help’. Instead he looked at me and asked, “Is there somewhere we can go?”
I nodded. I grabbed his hand that was between my thigh and pulled him up toward me. We kept kissing, his free hand trying at every opportunity to touch any part of me. I opened the service door and peeked in first to find the backroom empty. I squeezed his hand and skipped through to the storage closet. Slamming the door shut behind us I couldn’t stop giggling. He pressed against me and I could feel his cock pressed up on my lower belly. I was writhing in anticipation. He kissed my neck, sucking on the skin, pulling at the buttons on my polo shirt. He stopped and ran a finger over my name tag, “Jenny.” He said in a huff.
He was so eager; fumbling and pulling at my shirt. I couldn’t wait the seconds it would have taken him and yanked my shirt up over my breasts. He stopped kissing for a moment to pull back and look at my breasts. I heard his heavy breath before he plunged again into kissing and sucking at my skin. He pulled down the black lace cups with both hands and zealously nibbled and sucked on my erect nipples.
I could feel how wet I had become. My thighs were slick and hot in anticipation. He pulled up the skirt to my waist revealing my panties. At that moment I had wished I would have worn something sexier, but Escort Kuşadası it didn’t seem to matter. He used the palm of his hand cupping, rubbing, and squeezing. I couldn’t stop moaning and bit my lip down trying to hold back.
He started rubbing and thrusting his cock against one of my thighs as his hand worked between my legs. As soon as his fingers found my clit, my head fell back against the door.
“God, you’re so wet.” he murmured in the crook of my neck.
I leaned into his ear, “Fuck me. Fuck me hard.”
To my surprise and pleasure he took his cue and pulled me away from the door and bent me over one of the dirty linen hampers. I held onto the steel bars and braced myself as he yanked down my soaked panties. Last thing I heard was his zipper before I felt the hardest, thickest cock ramming into my pussy. His thrust pushed me into the laundry hamper railing as I tried to muffle my screams. There was the initial pain as he stretched my pussy apart, but soon the pleasure overwhelmed me. He grabbed my hips and pulled me into his thrusts. I locked my knees and pushed hard against the railing, holding my body stiff so that he could pound harder and deeper.
He grabbed one of shoulders and my hip, “You feel so good.”
“Then fuck me harder.” I moaned.
He slammed into me, his balls slapping against my throbbing clit. I could feel the heat of his cock deep inside and felt the utter absence and yearning to be filled back up in the millisecond between his strokes.
I couldn’t believe how turned on I was, I could feel the rising in my belly, the feeling I only had when being eaten out.
Was I going to cum from penetration? I didn’t think it was possible, that it was an urban legend. I didn’t know if it was the idea of being fucked by a stranger, or some sort of revenge on the bride, or because it was the biggest cock I’ve ever had, but whatever it was I was going to cum and I made it known.
I screamed, “I’m going to cum. I’m going to cum on your cock!”
“Fuck yes. Cum. Cum on me.” He trusted harder.
I could feel the head of his cock engorging. I didn’t think it was possible, but his cock became bigger, splitting me in two! I bucked back hard in my orgasm to meet his trust, my body stiffened, hot, bright, and breathless. He thrusted, forcing my clenching pussy to part, filling me with his cum. His final thrusts were sharp and fast. I wanted to bask in the pleasure. My head was swimming, my pussy filled to the brim with cum, and my knees quaking.
He pulled me back with my shoulder and kissed the nape of my neck with his cock still embedded in me. He continued to kiss and nibble as I felt him subside inside my hot, slick hole. When he finally pulled out, I felt a longing..a lost..a sadness, but the smile on my lips just wouldn’t fade. I was fully satisfied.
We straightened up. The tiny storage room smelled of sex. I re-tied his tie and buttoned his jacket. He kissed my lips lightly, almost like a first date kiss. I pulled down my skirt and found my panties. They were soaked and now dirty from the floor. I wadded them up and tossed them in the laundry hamper.
“You were..you..” he was stammering.
I shook my head and pressed a finger to his lips.
I snuck the groom back out to the main floor when I caught the glimpses of Carl tending bar. I smiled and shrugged my shoulders.
The rest of the night, nothing bothered me. Perhaps it was my new found attitude or the smell of sex on my clothes, but I was making out like a bandit on tips. I looked over a few times at the groom to see him happier than at any time before the closet. He flashed a few wayward looks my way with a smile. I was pretty sure that Ashley caught a few of them as I made my rounds through the crowd.
During clean-up Carl came over, “So I guess this means we’ll be seeing you again?”
“Nah, I think I had my fill.” I responded straightening out the dollar bills that were stuffed into my apron.
“I bet. Ha.”
The next day I got a text from Jenny asking me how things went. I told her I made a little over $300 in tips. She responded that now she really felt bad about missing out. I asked when she wanted her uniform back, she said Wednesday, there was some 50th Anniversary party she had to work. She asked if she should put in a word with Greg if I wanted to work it with her.
I texted, “No, I like them 22.”
She replied, “?”.
That’s when I noticed the new stains on her skirt and remarkably they looked similar to what I thought were old grease stains already on them. I started to wonder if there were other reasons besides tips that kept Jenny going back to work.
A few weeks later, post my GRE Exam, in the middle of Grad school applications Jenny burst into my apartment and flung herself on my couch. She was dressed in the all too familiar uniform.
“God, that wedding sucked. A dry wedding, can you believe it? No one tips for water!” she cried tossing her shoes on the floor.
I turned from my monitor and rested my chin on my clasped hands. “Oh really?”
“Oh yeah and some guy name Mark from the wedding you worked dropped in. It was so weird. He was like, do you know Jenny? And I’m like, I’m Jenny and he was like, no the Asian Jenny. I knew it had to be you.” She laughed. My heart dropped wondering what she knew.
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