Dirty Little Freaks (10 page)

“Oh shit,” I say and straighten my skirt. I splash some water on my face and smooth my hair.

Hush laughs and says, “Sorry babe, I hope I don’t get you fired.”

“Pull up your pants, I need to go sell porn.” I reply with a grin, and wash my hands. I should get Jag a sign in here, one of those “Employees Must Wash Their Hands” dealies. I chuckle thinking of his confusion.

A couple of seconds later, I open the door and find lawyer suit standing there, bag of lube in hand. I fucking hope he’s not going to try and return it. Gross, the weird shit people try to return will never fail to astound me.

“What’s up?” I ask him, ignoring his wide eyes when he sees Hush behind me. “I hope you saw the sign earlier, no returns dude.”

“Um, uh…it’s, um, not that...” he stutters, clearly unsettled by the obvious fucking that had been going on. I’m sure he heard us, but seeing Hush in all his tattooed, punk rock glory probably threw him off his game. Whatever sad, little game he has going on.

“Spit it out son, we don’t have all night,” Hush says. I laugh; lawyer suit has at least a decade on Hush.

“Well, the thing is I need to buy something else,” he finally says. He shoves his phone in my face and I read the texts from somebody called “Master.” Lawyer suit is apparently supposed to pick up a ponytail butt plug. I hand the phone back and put on my professional porn peddler face.

“Ok, you are looking for a butt plug, but one specifically designed for pony play?” I ask in a smooth, calm voice.

He nods, so I continue. “We have a couple of different models, come with me and I’ll go over the ins and outs of each.” I wink at Hush as I say that, he smiles and looks impressed. I am pretty fucking impressive. Five minutes ago I was being railed like a fucking twenty-dollar whore in the bathroom, and now I’m helping lawyer suit submissive pick out the object that is going to be rammed up his ass later. Just a day in the life.

Hush wanders around the store as I describe the difference between leather and latex ponytail attachments to lawyer suit. He looks like he’s in over his head so I keep using my calm, ‘you are not a deviant’ voice. I know he must be on a mission of humiliation from his Master, but I don’t want to add to it more than I have to. We get quite a few of these kinds of things in here.

“The latex has the advantage of being easy to clean,” I explain, and notice movement in the corner of my eye. I turn my head and see Hush pretending to deep throat a floppy pink display dildo. His head is thrown back and he’s pantomiming shoving it down his throat. I look back to the butt plugs I’m holding and almost lose it right there. He is flailing his arms behind the customer’s back, waving the dildo in the air, trying desperately to make me laugh, and I am trying desperately to keep it together. “The leather however is timeless,” I continue then start to giggle. “I’m so sorry sir, it’s just…” I trail off into laughter.

Lawyer suit knows what’s up because he’s not fucking stupid. Hush isn’t exactly a man full of quiet dignity. The suit grabs the large black butt plug in my right hand and mutters, “It’s ok, I’ll just take this one,” as he rushes towards the register.

I follow him to the front, as I pass Hush I casually mention, “That’s probably not the cleanest thing we have in the store, I don’t know if I’d want it that close to my face,” and keep walking. He throws it down like it burns and shudders. I laugh and keep sauntering; he follows right behind me.

“So are you sure you have everything now?” I ask lawyer suit in my chipper voice. I feel bad that his Master is humiliating him and Hush’s crazy antics aren’t helping. I keep doing my best to make this as easy as possible for him.

“Uh, yeah, I’m pretty sure that’s it,” he says and pulls out a wad of cash. He’s out the door like a flash the moment I hand him his brown paper bag and I turn to Hush.

“Seriously, you’re going to get me fired,” I laugh. “Come on, the poor guy, you were making it so hard on him.”

“I’m sorry babe, I just want to make you laugh,” he says and does his best to look contrite. “I love your laugh.” I grab his shirt, drag him towards me and kiss him, a deep breathtaking kiss that I’m in control of. I pin his tongue down and grab the back of his head. I like being up behind the counter, we’re at about the same height this way.

I pull back and say, “You act like a spoiled baby, you were doing anything you could to get my attention.” I can’t help the small thrill that courses through my body. I’m such a smug prick at times.

“Of course I do,” he says and kisses me again, “I want your eyes on me, always. It pisses me off when somebody else has your attention.” He kisses my neck and nibbles lightly. “So if that makes me a spoiled baby, then I guess I’m a spoiled baby.”

I sigh dramatically and tell him, “Ok, you’ve got my full attention now.” We start to kiss again and pass half an hour making out like high schoolers. I mean like I think high schoolers make out. I was pretty much a standoffish bitch in high school. I saw how Eva was though, and I imagine that’s how most girls are.

The buzzer sounds and he draws back, it’s another customer, fucking grand central around here tonight. It’s a homeless guy, they come in to sleep in the booths from time to time, Jag chases them out so they wait for my shift. I find them cleaner and nicer to deal with than a lot of the jerk offs we get in here.

“Hey John,” I wave at him as he shuffles past.

“Jade, always a pleasure to see you,” he replies in a crisp British accent. He was probably a good looking dude at one time, he’s got crazy blue eyes and his jaw line looks like it would have been chiseled before the drink got to him. Now he’s older than his years and looks terribly sad. That’s the worst thing about alcohol, I mean other than the addiction and shit, but it’s the way it makes a person sag under their sadness. He reminds me of a house that’s been abandoned for a few years. If somebody cared, they could fix it up and move back in. Nobody cares though, so it will sit like that until the day it crumbles into the ground.

“Ha! You just like seeing me because I don’t chase you out of here,” I laugh.

“That’s true, you’ve got me there,” He says and walks a little faster, then notices Hush. He stops, looks him up and down and asks, “Who’s your friend here?”

“I’m her boyfriend,” Hush answers before I can open my mouth. “The name’s Hush, pleased to meet you.” Boyfriend? Uh,fuck that, I don’t think so…not yet anyhow.

“He’s so funny, this is my friend, Hush,” I jump in, ignoring his annoyed look. “You go enjoy yourself back there, I’m on all night.”

“Thanks,” John replies. “And it was nice to meet you.” He nods his head towards Hush and heads to the booths.

Hush is tense next to me; I don’t want to start anything because there’s really nothing to start. I can’t help it though. “What the fuck was that, boyfriend?” I demand.

“It just came out,” he looks contrite again. “I don’t know what came over me, I just feel like jumping in between you and any guy you talk to.”

“Even a homeless dude coming in here to sleep?” I ask.

“Oh, he’s homeless? I thought he was a customer, he seemed kinda excited to see you,” he says.

“Uh yeah, his clothes, shaggy beard and filthy face should have been a clue,” I retort. “And of course he’s excited, I don’t chase him out of here like everyone else who works night shift.” I’m still annoyed, but he is adorable when he’s being possessive.

“I thought he was a hipster coming in here to jerk off in the back with you on the brain,” he replies, looking a little foolish as he puts two and two together. Hipster or homeless, I'll give him that, sometimes it really is hard to tell.

“You are impossible,” I say, but when I look at him all suspicion leaves my head and I'm full of the warm fuzzies you read about in shitty romance novels. I swoon over his possessiveness and it's fucking gag worthy. I don't stop though, I actually giggle and say, “It’s a good thing you’re so cute.” I give his cock a squeeze and add, “It doesn’t hurt that you’re packing such a big fat one.” He smiles and I know I am wrapped around his little finger, I’m falling for him. Apparently a nice thick dick is all it takes to have me practically begging him to fuck with my life. I take a sip of my cold chai and listen to him recount a story from their practice earlier that day. This kind of easy conversation doesn’t come often to me, but I guess I kind of like it.

Just past midnight I sell a few magazines and one of the Jade pocket pussies to an older man with deep brown eyes that are full of sadness. I wonder what his story is as I’m bagging his items. Hush grabs the rubber vagina from me and laughs, “What’s this? You didn’t tell me you’re famous, babe.”

“It’s not mine,” I glare at him and grab it back. I toss it in the bag, hand it to the customer and repeat, “It’s not mine," as he gives me the hairy eyeball. He thanks me and walks away. He turns back to take one last long look before he heads out the door.

“Thanks a lot,” I turn to Hush. “Now he’s going to come back in here and think he’s had a piece of me. What happened to you being protective?”

He gives me a lopsided grin and tells me, “I thought you wanted a little more freedom.”

“You do not, you ass,” I stick my tongue out at him. “I think you were overcome by the sight of the pocket pussy and lost your composure.”

“You figured me out,” he says, then frowns and asks me, “why do you work here though, do you like it?”

I think about it for a minute, nobody has ever asked me about this before. People just assume I’m a pervy bastard who does it for the discount nipple clamps. “I don’t
not
like it, it’s a job and sometimes I hate it,” I tell him, “but my boss is awesome, puts up with a bunch of my crazy shit and some of the customers are sweet.”

“It seems like an unsafe job though,” he prods. “Are you ever worried, being here at night?”

“Not at all,” I fib. “I’ve never had any kind of trouble.” Now that’s a total lie, but seeing how concerned he is, I don’t want to let him know the reality of this job. I have been robbed three times, twice at knife point, once at fake gun point, I’ve been attacked in the booths a few times, and the worst one I can think of, one disgruntled customer flung his jizz on me. That one had me fucking gagging and running for an AIDS test the second I could leave the store. So yeah, it’s not perfect, but where else am I going to work, McFuckingDonalds?

“You’ve been lucky, but it just feels like a bad idea, you being here all by yourself all night,” he presses on.

“Listen,” I say and rub his leg, “I appreciate your concern, but I’ve been doing just fine for three years now. Besides, this isn’t exactly the job I want to retire from.”

He perks up. “Really? What would you like to do?”

I am suddenly gripped with the urge to tell him everything, my hopes and dreams and the fact that I’m super smart and ambitious…and afraid, of what my mom will say, what Eva will say. I’m afraid I’ll fail and I’m afraid he’ll laugh at me so I simply say, “I dunno, do a bookkeeping certificate or something.” In reality I want to go the whole way, BA, Masters, PhD. I want people to call me fucking Doctor. But I don’t tell him this. In short, I am afraid.

“Hey, that’s cool,” he says and I know he’s being mildly condescending. What the fuck does he know though? His big ambition is probably something to do with a hotel room, a bag of coke and a bunch of hookers.

“Yeah, but I don’t know, I think Eva would collapse if I got a real job,” I say and laugh. It’s true though, I don’t know what she’d do without me.

“She’d be fine, you guys have to live your separate lives eventually, right?” he replies.

“I guess, but not for a while. I don’t think either one of us is ready to settle down any time soon. I can’t imagine either one of us in a long term relationship,” I raise my eyebrow and note his slight grimace. I think I might be getting to him as much as he’s getting to me. This mutual attraction is foreign, but is starting to grow on me.

By the time I’m ready to hand the reins to the morning shift, Hush and I have fucked two more times in the bathroom. I am like a bitch in heat around him, and I like it.

We walk out into the morning and the world feels like it’s shifted again. Walking with Hush in the daylight feels like we’re making this legitimate, letting our lust stand the bright light of day. We both look like shit, we’ve obviously been fucking all night, our hair is disastrous and our bodies reek of it. Early morning commuters stare at us as we saunter down Granville, hand in hand and acting like the bold rulers of the new underground.

“You need a lift home?” Hush asks me as we near Robson Street.

“You drive?” I reply, surprised by this revelation. My punk rock-god obsession does something as ordinary as drive?

He reaches into his pocket and digs deep, pulls out a set of keys, dangles them in front of my face and says, “Oh look, apparently I do.”

“Well, heck yes, anything to avoid public transit. It’s pretty bad being the only night owl going home on a Monday morning” I tell him and smile.

He takes a quick right into an underground parking garage, we head down a couple of stories in the elevator, kissing and groping each other the moment we are alone. This is pathetic really, this loss of control. Pathetic; and fucking magnificent.

We walk through the cars and he pauses in front of a new looking Range Rover. I giggle, and assume he’s pulling my leg. “Ok, where’s your real car? What have you got, an old Honda? A broke down Lincoln?” I ask him, and wait for the punch line to this joke.

“No, babe, we’re riding in style,” he says and clicks the key ring. The Rover beeps and opens, he walks to the passenger side door and pulls the door wide with a flourish. “My lady,” he grins, and makes a sweeping bow.

“You have got to be shitting me!” I exclaim. “How much do you guys make with your band?”

He instantly looks embarrassed and mumbles, “It’s family money.” I climb in and he shuts the door. When he gets in I look at him, he does look like he comes from money if you ignore the mohawk, tattoos and faded clothes. He carries himself differently than the trash I grew up with. He doesn’t have that sneaky, conniving look about him, like he’s always looking to work his next scam. I hate that I might carry that desperation with me, so I have spent many hours practicing my neutral look.