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"Order up!"

I don't think there's any word in the english language that I hate as much as those two together. Every time I hear them my teeth grind, my hackles go up, and my toe claws curl in my boots. All day, every day, over and over again, like a prayer. Or more like a curse.

"Order up!"

It's not just the words, of course. It's everything that goes with it. The squeak of the order wheel as it turns. The little clacks it makes when I pull a ticket out. The smell of a hot griddle and fatty smoke thick in my snout, like snot I can't ever blow out. The sounds of meat sizzling and popping in a puddle of oil, and the way the noise got too loud to talk for a moment when you flipped it. The way my pelt stank of grease and sweat and fried food every hour of every day, no matter how much I tried to clean it out. And of course the customers, so many fucking customers, an endless crush of them every day, three times a day, shouting and jabbering and complaining like you wouldn't believe.

Working as a line cook wasn't my first choice of career paths, but then, words like "parolee" and "convicted felon" on a resume don't make me the first choice for most careers, either. A two year stint upstate for boosting cars for my brother-in-law may not sound like much as far as crime sprees go, but I learned pretty quick it don't matter: a felon's a felon so far as employers are concerned, and for just about any job out there there's a good long line of folks willing to do it whose background checks don't come back looking like one of those drug store coupon receipts. My parole officer warned me on day one it'd be like that but I didn't believe her until a week later when I showed her all the places I'd applied to and heard nothing back from, thinking for sure she was going to turn me around and send me right back to jail.

I was lucky, though. She turned out to be alright, and instead of giving me a hard time about it she gave me a few pointers about the kinds of places I should be sniffing around. Construction, except I'd hardly even swung a hammer before. Janitor, but that's all foreigners now, humans mostly. Warehouse jobs - I had the build for it, especially after a couple years of prison life got me from 250 to closer to 300 stocky pounds of six-and-a-half foot badger beef - but at coming up on my 46th birthday my back and knees probably couldn't take it for more than a year, tops.  Lots of auto industry shit, mechanics and stuff, that I'd never get hired for with my auto theft rap. When she suggested cook I laughed and told her I could barely boil water without burning it.

She'd been persistent, bless her heart. Carl, she told me, it's not like I'm asking you to learn how to bake ice cream. She said I wouldn't be head chef at a fancy restaurant or anything, she was talking about the low-end shit: burger flipping, sandwich stuffing, fries... frying, that kind of thing. After I thought about it some, working in a kitchen sounded a whole fuck-ton better than mopping floors all day or hauling boxes back and forth so I picked up a couple of books and started making the rounds at the restaurants downtown. At first I stuck with the chain places but they all had policies about hiring felons (of course), so I switched to the lunch places down near the docks. But they didn't hire anyone who wasn't from their own species, and since none of them were run by badgers like me I was out of luck there too.

It wasn't until in desperation I started hunting around the trendier parts of town that I got my first nibble, a real interview with a place that didn't hire me only because I had no experience. But the next day, half an hour after walking into the Topshot Coffee Shop with nothing but a shitty resume and a rap sheet - and maybe fifteen minutes after talking to the owner, some skinny little skunk dude who seemed way too eager to have me on board - I was behind the counter wearing an apron and trying to stay out of the way of Juan, the preturnaturally upbeat twenty-six year old (I think?) jaguar who'd be my mentor, friend and coworker for the next two months. The one who showed me how to make hash browns so they don't get soggy, how to poach an egg with nothing but a pot of boiling water, even how to fry a steak on a griddle and have it come off looking and tasting like it was just barbequeued, just minus the grill marks. I walked out of there that first day burned, grease-spattered and exhausted but for the first time in years with a day of honest work under my belt.

For awhile I had no idea why Lyle - that was the skunk's name, the owner - even considered hiring me in the first place, let alone be so weirdly enthusiastic about it. It took a few days for me to figure it out, and once I did I actually laughed out loud: I'm legit. Or at least, I look legit, and in places like this looks are everything. The part of town the Topshot was in used to be a real shithole. Like, I wouldn't have even walked around this neighborhood at night ten years ago. Maybe not even five years ago. But a lot of young, new money was flowing into the city in the past few years, and new money doesn't like to live near old money. New money likes to find shitty-ass neighborhoods and occupy them en masse, until the check cashing place becomes that little neighborhood bar they love so much and the liquor store becomes an artisanal soap company and all of a sudden you have a place where it ain't just hood rats and folks slinging on the streets who want to live there.

But the problem with this is those new folks want to feel like they're still living the edgy life out in the rough-and-tumble part of town. So if you're a business owner in that neighborhood, what are you going to do? Are you going to build a shiny new modern-looking trendy joint, hire some young college dropout cook who looks like he'd blow away in a stiff wind, and pack your menu with kale and quinoa? Or are you going to try to keep the place looking run down, take the risk hiring the cigar-chomping, wifebeater-wearing, beer-bellied, middle-aged and scruffy badger ex-con who, even I have to admit, looks like he just stepped off a movie set playing the part of a short-order cook in a run-down midwest diner... And still charge ten bucks for a plate of bacon and eggs? Hell, he even let me smoke stogies when I was cooking just to add to the ahmbience, and I didn't have to be nice to anyone if I didn't want to. Every time I cussed out one of the waiters or told an unruly customer where to stick it the little fuckers ate that shit up. Like I said, legit.

A year on, though, and the bloom was thoroughly off that rose. Juan quit to go get a job at some other dive where he'd be numero uno in the kitchen, I'd learned everything there was to learn about running a grill, and every day had long ago started blurring into every other. There was another cook I hadn't bothered to learn the name of yet who was so green I practically had to do everything for him and who'd probably quit in a week from the pressure, I'd seen the type before. It had gone from the job to just a job, and a pretty fucking exhausting one at that. I was usually up at four and if I was lucky I only had to work until dinnertime - those were the good days. If the word "clopen" doesn't mean anything to you, consider yourself blessed.

Funny thing though: The absolute worst thing about the job lately, turned out to be one of the best.

The worst thing about the job these days was Benny. Benny was one of the three waiters who worked at Topshot, some skinny-jeans wearing dingo or coyote or something, and easily the biggest pain in my ass since getting out. See, Lyle though that unlike the guy running the front grill (me), it was a good idea to have the waiters be more 'fashionable' to the customers. That is, more like them. Being young, disaffected, flannel-wearing, with slicked-back hair and glasses missing the lenses (who the fuck does that? And why?) was their unofficial uniform, and to say they annoyed the piss out of me would be an understatement. None of 'em had a brain in their head to speak of and, of course, thought they had the whole goddamned world figured out. Every time they opened their mouths I wanted to close it for them.

I made no effort to hide my dislike for all of them, something I think the boss man probably just added to the ambience of the place (he'd talk about it all the time, pronouncing it 'ahm-biance' like a European). The other two had the good sense to stay out of my way, but Benny - besides having the most punchable face I'd ever seen - was annoying and clever. He knew I could fuck with him if I wanted to, but he knew he could fuck with me too. Even if getting me in trouble with Lyle wasn't in the cards he still somehow found a way to make every shift I had with him sucked: Pretending I fucked up plates, intentionally scrawling incomprehensibly on tickets so I had to track him down and ask him what he meant, or just being a demanding and entitled little shit in general - the other waiters stayed out of the grill area, but he'd sashay through carrying a full pot of coffee and act like it was my fuckin' fault when I ran into him. I didn't know what his beef with me was (I mean, besides giving him the cold shoulder), but after only a couple of weeks working with the guy I was ready to take him to the cooler for some attitude adjustment, job and parole be damned. It'd be worth it just to turn the little fuck's muzzle inside-out.

It also didn't help matters that Benny's girlfriend - and fuck me if I could knew what anyone saw in him - started hanging around the restaurant pretty much from day one. Her name was Zoe, and to this day I don't know why Lyle put up with her sitting around all the time. Benny would chat her up when it was slow instad of cleaning and at the end of his shift he'd be out like a shot, with her on tow, no matter how slammed we were. A cute-as-a-button weasel (or something like it) she was just a little bit of a thing, maybe five foot or so and skinny as a rail, with crazy red and purple hair that looked like she picked a new style every week. She had those big-ass holes in her ears, I think they call them gauges? She'd been easy to peg as a party girl from day one - and not just because she walked in at four in the afternoon looking like she just woke up and ordered an omelette and coffee when most folks were going out for steak.

Zoe was nice enough, I guess, if a shitty tipper for all the hours she spent warming a seat at my counter. We'd talk every once in awhile but not too much, because Benny seemed to always find an excuse to come swooping in whenever she and I got too chatty for his tastes like a fuckin' jealous white knight.  She seemed alright though, nice rack, a long slinky body that was easy on the eyes, didn't make trouble. And like I said, Lyle didn't seem to care about her being there, so what was I gonna do? I called it "my" counter but it's not like I could tell her to fuck off even if I wanted to (I didn't). I considered her just another, less offensive part of my shitty job until one day when she hailed me as I was at the grill.

"You want s'more coffee?" I grunted around my stogie after she'd flagged me down. The counter was my job so the waiters technically only had to deal with the tables. While the others were cool about helping me out when I needed it, Benny of course was always scarce no matter of how full the grill was. It was between the lunch and dinner rush right now, though, so the counter wasn't too busy and I didn't mind serving her.

"Sure, thanks Carl," she chirped, which immediately made me suspicious. Zoe was always polite, but never perky. 

I topped her off, and instead of leaving put the pot down and bellied up the counter. "So what's up?" I asked, keeping my voice low and neutral. Not that I had to worry, since Benny was dealing with customers for a change and didn't seem to notice me talking to her.

"What do you mean?" Zoe asked innocently. She was trying to look busy pouring too much sugar into her coffee.

I snorted and glanced around the room, like I was making a show of making sure nobody could hear us. I didn't have to worry; even off-rush it was noisy as fuck in there and no one was nearby her on the counter to hear. "Don't try to play me, sweetheart," I growled in a decidedly less casual tone, and chewed my cigar to the corner of my muzzle. "I'm too old for that shit and I ain't got the time. Whaddya want?"

Now in case you think I was just jumping to conclusions here, one gotta you need to keep in mind: People may be scared of ex-cons, sure, but they assume we've all got connections too. Everyone who ain't in the system figures there's this one big criminal underworld that everyone who's been inside is a part of. So if you're caught tagging trains with spray paint and the prosecutor decides to make an example out of you so you do time, all of a sudden when you get out everyone and their little brother thinks you're their gangster hookup. And right about now Zoe was acting to me like she had something on her mind relating to my past history, if for no other reason that she was being extra-nice to me all of a sudden.

"You don't have to be a dick about it," she grumbled, ducking her head.

Nailed it. "I ain't being a dick," I grunted. "I'm on the clock and I got shit to do, so whatever it is you want, spit it out." Maybe Lyle wouldn't mind if I slacked off a little between rushes, but I didn't feel like standing here while the little weasel girl beat around the bush. Even though I could pretty well reckon what she was going to ask.

Zoe looked around the room much as I did, frowning. "I was just going to ask if you could, uh..." Now she looked uncertain, and I was chuckling inwardly - she probably thought she'd be steering this conversation a lot more than she was. "...Score things."

I rolled my eyes and straightened up, turning to go back to the grill.

"What?!" she protested indignantly before I could, and a little louder than I liked. "I was just asking!"

I stopped and looked at her, wiping one greasy paw on my apron. "Asking me what? I told you, I ain't got time for bullshit." I wasn't pissed off but my patience was wearing thin for her hemming and hawing, 

Now it was her turn to scowl. "I just wanted to know if you could, I mean, if you knew anyone who could get... Stuff."

"I can get you a burger, if you're hungry. "

Zoe "hmph'd" and crossed her arms petulantly. Benny, I noticed, still wasn't paying us any mind, which was fine with me. "I'm not hungry. Jesus, Benny said you were an prick." She rubbed her arm, took another swallow of coffee, and hesitated again before having another go. "Coke, okay?" she muttered, thankfully quietly this time. "I wanted to know if you could get ahold of some blow. You don't have to make such a big fucking deal out of it."

That one brought me up short, and I had to think about it for a moment. It wasn't that I hadn't been expecting drugs - of course that's what someone like Zoe would ask about. It just was that I hadn't expected her to ask for something I had on me at that particular moment. In fact, the only illegal substance I ever bothered to partake in.

Remember what I said about working in a kitchen being a fucking grind? Turns out the only way to make it through those long shifts - and every chef on the planet knows this - is to take a whole lot of fucking uppers every chance you get. Amateurs used caffeine, dumbshits used crystal, addicts used smack, and the rest of us just slipped off to the bathroom every once in awhile to do a quick line to give us a little boost. Drug tests on humans would have done me in, but I was lucky - they hadn't figured out how to reliably test us fur types yet, so while I still had to piss in a cup once a week for my parole officer I knew I didn't have to worry about anything coming back suspicious. (I think she knew anyway - like I said, pretty much everyone making your food is high on something. It's about the only way to handle this fucking job).

Or at least, usually it was the only way to handle it. Today it looked like I might have another option on the table.

I made a big show of considering it even if I'd already made the decision about what I was going to do next, taking a thoughtful drag on my cigar. It left her squirming in her seat, which was kind of cute. "Yeah, I think I could maybe help you out," I drawled after awhile, letting my voice drop again to a laconic growl. "How much you looking for?"

"Just an eight ball," she muttered, less begrudgingly and a little more hopeful.

Just an eight ball!? I thought to myself. Guess my 'party girl' assessment was even more spot-on than I'd known. What was it with goddamned kids these days? When I was her age there was no 'just' an eight ball, that'd be more powder than I'd see in a week. I mean sure, I had that much on me, barely, but that shit was expensive as fuck. Where does she even get the money?

Eh, fuck it. Either I was gonna do this or I wasn't. How she came up with the cash wasn't my problem, and with any luck it wouldn't be hers, either.

"Yeah, I think I can do that," I said, and glanced at the greasy, dusty and tobacco-stained clock hanging over the grill. "I got a break in ten minutes. Meet me out back."

Zoe blinked in surprise. "Oh, um... Right now?"

"Yeah, right now," I said flatly. "Look, you said you were looking for some, and I got some. You want it or not?"

"Um, sure, I mean, yeah, I do," Zoe said, recomposing herself. It was even more cute watching her try to look all cool again. 

"Good. Ten minutes. And just you, alone," I added, nodding in Benny's direction, who just now appeared to notice us and was obviously trying to make an excuse with his current table to head over as soon as possible. "If Benny thinks I'm such a prick I ain't selling him shit. Now drink your coffee, I got work to do."

With that, I turned away from her without waiting for an answer. I didn't care what she had to say right now, and anyway Benny had noticed us talking and was on his way over to us so the conversation was pretty much over. We'd get it all worked out shortly anyway.

By the time I turned back around she was gone and Benny was back to work, but he gave me a wary look that suggested that on her way out Zoe'd told him about our little deal. That was fine with me, so long as he didn't show up at the transaction. I was pretty sure he wouldn't - one thing buyers learn pretty quick if they want a deal is that you do what the dealer says, and right now, I was the dealer. So if I said only one of them shows up then there better only be Zoe out there or the deal was off, and Benny, dumb as he was, had to still be smart enough to know that without anyone having to tell him.

So I wasn't surprised when fifteen minutes later I'm propped up against the wall in the alley out behind the dumpsters working off the last of my cigar, when I see fetching little Zoe tiptoes around the corner all alone looking as nervous as if this was her first score... Which I was pretty sure it wasn't. Girl with some paper like her, and from around this neighborhood, she was prolly just used to dealing with high-class dealers who deliver and shit, not making shady handoffs in alleys with middle-aged badgers.

"You got the stuff?" she said by way of greeting, furtively looking up and down the length of the alley. "I can't stay long.

Yeah, right. From my stained apron pocket I pulled a plastic-wrapped white bundle about the size of a large marble. It had been in my locker before I snuck it out (I wasn't stupid enough to have it with me on the grill) and was almost untouched - I'd had a little taste earlier that day, but it had long since worn off. "Right here. You wanna try it?"

Zoe frowned, bit her lip, and looked uncertain. "Um," was all she said.

"You wanna know if you're getting the good shit or not." I didn't phrase it as a question. While she watched warily, from my pocket I pulled out a thin sheet of metal I kept with me for just such an occasion. I tapped out a little bit onto it from the tiny hole in the bag, to make a ragged and not-very-neat line on it, and held it it out to her. "Nobody's watching, go on."

What reluctance Zoe was showing was gone quickly once I offered her up the line, and to her credit she knew what the hell she was doing: covered one nostril with a finger, dipped her head down without bothering to take the metal plate from me, and with a quick snort and push of her snout the little white mountain disappeared up her snoot. I could see the effect is had on her in her expression when she straightened up again, her pupils dilating, her tail starting to dance behind her, her whiskers twitching, and a moment later an explosive exhale.

"Goddamn," she gasped, squeezing her eyes shut tightly, holding them for a second and opening them up wide again. I didn't blame her - this was good shit, I knew that already, and I'd given her a pretty fat line of the stuff. Already she was acting like she couldn't hold still, bouncing on the balls of her feet as she asked, "You weren't kidding, that's really good." She sniffled a few times and rubbed her nose reflexively. "How much you want for it?"

I took a long, lazy drag on my cigar. Here we go. "Three hundred," I said when I exhaled.

"What?" Zoe screeched, probably louder than she should've. "Are you fucking kidding me? That's almost twice-"

"Three hundred," I repeated gruffly, interrupting her bitching. "Unless you wanna suck my dick, then it's two hundred." Her expression changed then, from one of indignant rage to something more like slack-jawed shock. I grinned around the stub of the cigar. "And you can have the whole thing for free if you spread yer legs for me first."

I had to give her credit: Zoe didn't do what I thought she would, which was flip right the fuck out at me on the spot. In fact, right away she was scowling at me something fierce, jaw all clenched up and looking like someone just pissed in her cheerios. "You've got to be fucking kidding me," she growled. Or at least it was kind of a growl.

I grinned lewdly. "Do I look like I'm joking?"

Zoe stared at me a moment before answering. "No," she retorted bitterly, crossing her arms over her chest and directing her scowl up and down the alleyway. "I'm not sucking your nasty old dick for blow," she said.

Her phrasing wasn't lost on me, but I didn't let on. "Then I guess you're walking out of here three bills lighter, if you want this." I dangled the bag in the air in my fingers. "Make up your mind, my break's only twenty minutes and you're in a hurry, remember?"

The wheels in Zoe's head were turning now, and a lot faster than they would be otherwise with the bump I gave her before springing the question (that wasn't on accident, by the way). When her eyes flicked down to my crotch I knew what she was thinking of, too, and it wasn't the dead presidents in her purse.

"Shit, I can't believe this. Just... Fuck." It's hard to compete with free, I thought. "Do you have any rubbers?" she said, so fast it almost came out like one word, "doyouhavenyrubbers?". She didn't look happy.

"Nope." Now it was my turn to lie - I had a couple in my wallet, sure. But no way was I going to waste them if I didn't have to. "And for an eight ball I ain't gonna pull out, neither." Maybe I was pushing my luck, but it was worth a shot. 

"I'm not on the pill," she said, and I could tell just from the way she hesitated for a second first, and looked at me while she said it, that the little bitch was lying through her teeth. 

"That supposed to scare me? I'll put a bump in yer belly, I don't care," I said, thinking, fuck if I can afford child support. Okay, so I did care, but whatever. I wasn't gonna the miss the chance to go in bare.

"Goddamnit, asshole." She flashed a snarl at me, although she was such a little bit of a thing that it didn't do much except make me want to laugh. Then she held out her paw with a resigned sigh. "I'm only doing this so you can't fucking rip me off. Give it here."

Fuckin' jackpot. "Take your pants off first. Not that I don't trust ya."

Zoe's jaw set in suspicion. "How do I know you'll even give it to me?"

"Oh, I'm gonna give it to you, sweetheart," I grunted with a rude chuckle, tossing the butt of my cigar to the ground and grinding it under my boot to put it out. "But I'm gonna give it to you first. Show me that pussy." I was already untying my apron and lifting it off my head, bunching it into a ball and tossing it on the top of the one the nearby garbage cans.

I could tell everything I said was just pissing her off more, but I didn't care - I was gonna fuck her, it didn't much matter to me if she was happy about it or not.  So what if she was giving me the evil eye while unbuttoning her shorts and pushing them down around her knees, or if she looked like she wished she could keep her panties on before shoving them down to join her shorts?  What mattered to me was that when she was done I was staring at a soft, neatly trimmed pussy framed by rangy legs and a beautifully long, flat tummy peeking out underneath her cropped designer shirt. That little fucker Benny don't deserve something this cute, I thought.

"Here," I grunted, tossing Zoe the baggie. She couldn't run now so I didn't have to worry about her ditching me with the blow, and I was feeling generous. She caught it awkwardly, clutching it to her tits and glaring at me. "You wanna do another line before we get started?" I held the little metal plate out to her.

"I'm gonna need it," she growled shortly, snatching the plate from my fingers. While she was busy studiously ignoring me and cutting herself another line - a few of the rocks tumbled out too big, so she had something on her keychain she was using to chop it up - I got my belt unbuckled and my pants open. Getting hard was not going to be a problem since I'd been sporting a half-chub since Zoe first traipsed back here, and all it took was a good look at her snatch to get me to full mast, even at my age. It took some effort to get it out of my underwear though, and I had to suck in my gut to dig it out and get the waistband hooked behind my nuts.

Zoe was too busy snorting the plate to pay much attention to what I was doing, and when she finally did lift her head her eyes were bloodshot and her fingers worked over her (likely numb) nose. Then she got a look at what I was packing, and I ain't gonna lie: I had a big ol' shiteating grin on my muzz when she exclaimed, "What the fuck, Carl!"

Ten fat inches of drippy uncut badger dick will make a girl say something like that, especially when they're having to contemplate it going somewhere inside them. I wasn't one to brag but Zoe wasn't the first chick to get all goggle-eyed when they see what I got swinging between my legs. I didn't have to wonder what Benny might be packing, the way Zoe reacted when she saw mine.

"If you're thinking of having second thoughts," I growled, "Don't. I ain't interested in hearing it."

"I'm trying not to have think about it at all," Zoe said, but God bless coke because even as she was complaining about it the little minx was turning around to face the wall, watching me - let's be real, watching my dick - over her shoulder while I swaggered up behind her. "Let's just get this over with. You fucking stink," she grumbled.

"Aw baby, don't be like that," I crooned into her ear, resting my greasy paw on her tight little ass (finally) to give it a palm. Ohhh, man, did that feel good, especially when I slid it lower to beneath her short tail, dipping my fingers between her ass cheeks just above her legs. My other paw I snaked up underneath her shirt until I found one of her tits and gave it an experimental squeeze. I felt something hard between my fingers - her nipples were pierced, both of them I realized as I switched to the other, with straight bars. I tugged on it experimentally and she twitched. "Yer gonna be thinking about it plenty in a second here. A little wider, go on." I used my knee to nudge at the back of one thigh. "You got a lot of dick yer gonna have to fit in there."

"Would you just be quiet," Zoe mumbled, but her heart wasn't in it anymore, drugs and her own libido getting the better of her. As she readjusted her stance wider my claws probed deeper, pushing aside softly furred folds until I found what I was looking for: slick and warm flesh so wet my fingers squelched when they sank inside. She even made a little "ohh" that I caught her trying to hide in a growl, until I twisted my fingers around and the moan won out.

"Yer pretty fuckin' wet for a bitch who says she don't want it," I growled into her ear, and shoved both fingers to the second knuckle up in her snatch. I thought that'd piss her off, but nope - the bitch moaned, if you can believe it, so I pushed my luck. "I'm thinkin' I could have asked for three bills and the fuck both and you'd still be walkin' outta here with my load in yer snatch." I was stiff now, without even having to stroke it, my erection grinding against her lower back.

"Can't you please. Shut. The fuck. Up," Zoe growled tightly, this time without looking back over her shoulder.

She looked like she was going to try to say something else too, until I pulled my finger out of her quick and used that juice-slick paw to guide my dick towards her wet snatch.  Then she was just panting, short and fast like she was at the doctor and bracing herself for a shot - which I guess, in a way, she was. I didn't see the point in making her wait any longer, so without so much as a "gang way!" I squatted down low, braced one paw on the weasel girl's lower back, and pushed my cock up into her wet folds... only to miss the first time and hot-dogged her instead. I played it off like I meant to do it, drew back, and on the second push...

Fuck yeah! Searing heat and a fuck hole as tight as a clenched fist opened up only begrudgingly around my blunt cockhead, the first few inches making the a nasty sclrch as they pushed in.

I'd done it. I could hardly believe it but I'd done it, and It was even better than I'd hoped. Zoe was soft, wet, smooth, and tight as hell - everything I'd been hoping for when I'd decided to proposition her in the first place. Best of all - and I ain't ashamed to say this was my favorite part - was knowing it was pussy belonging to that little fucker Benny that I had stretched out around my 'nasty old dick' right then. Just imagining what he'd think of what I was doing to his pretty little girlfriend was enough to make my cock throb on the way in.

While I was busy relishing being buried in Benny's girl, said girl was still panting and making little 'hnnggg' noises punctuating her muscles twitching around me. She was trying to get used to my size, I realized with no small sense of smugness, and judging by her little whines it wasn't going so well. My original plan was to fuck that cunt raw in five minutes flat and get back to the grill, but now that I was stuffing my leaky hose into her I figured, no reason Zoe couldn't have a little bit of fun too. She wasn't bitching no more (out loud), and I was sure as fuck in no hurry to depart this heavenly pussy, so instead I took a good long time working her open, inch by thick fuckin' inch, while the little weasel girl danced on tiptoes and tried like hell not to look like she was enjoying the ride. But with a snoot full of blow and a cunt full of dick (that I guarantee you was bigger than what she was used to riding) her body was telling me things she probably wished it wasn't, and by the time I was buried in her to the nuts - and let me tell you, I did not think I was going to fit it all in her - Zoe was moaning like... Well, like a three hundred fuckin' dollar whore.

So I fucked her like one, going nice and slow when we were getting started to break her in and gradually working myself up to the pace I'd intended at the beginning. I think she'd been expecting a pump and dump too from the way she looked back over her shoulder at me the first time I started to draw it out of her,  her eyes all squinted and bloodshot and suspicious.  That look went away real quick when I pushed back in, and bless her heart the little cutie even rocked back against me some as I set up an easy rhythm, firmly enough to let on that she wasn't hating it as much as she maybe wanted to. She was still wound up tighter than a spring (and had been from the moment I'd had my fingers in her) but drug and dick will do a lot to get a girl in the mood, even if she's giving it up so some sleazy ol' fucker twice her age just to earn herself her for a free eight ball.

I was well into a good hard rut when I saw movement out of the corner of my eye, clearly enough to jerk my head sideways towards the restaurant's back door. Like most places we only closed the screen during the day to let some air into the kitchen and cleanup areas, and anyone working had to pass the door to get to the cooler. For a second of panic I thought for sure I was cold busted - I had visions of Lyle and my parole officer standing side-by-side, shaking their heads as they condemned me back to prison - and it wasn't until I could make out the hazy silhouette caused by the screen that I recognized Benny, holding a box of something he'd presumably just fetched from the freezer. He might not have noticed me plowing his girl when he went in but he sure as fuck did on the way back, and now he was standing there, open-mouthed and silent, watching us.

Fuck it, I thought, I was busted, but not by anyone who mattered. I wasn't thrilled about being caught with my pants down around my ankles only because that'd make it tough to fight, but almost as soon as I thought that I followed it up with, what could Benny do? He comes out here I could down him in one punch. He goes and tells Lyle... What? That I'm fuckin' his girl on my break? There's another couple dozen hipster faggots just like Benny who come in the Topshot every day who could wait tables, but no way was Lyle going to on-the-spot fire his only grill guy just because I was getting my dick wet on my break even if it was in pussy that didn't belong to me (thought right now it didn't much belong to Benny, neither). Hell, I'd probably be in more trouble if Zoe had been a real customer!

So what did I do? I gave him the biggest, nastiest smirk I had, reached around and hooked a couple fingers in the corner of Zoe's muzz (she didn't even try to bite, just whimpered and drooled around them) and gave it to that bitch good and hard, watching her boyfriend the whole goddamned time. Look at her, that smirk said. What the fuck are you gonna do about it? Nothin', that's what. I pushed deep and stirred my dick in her snatch, I fucked her short and fast just to make sure he could hear the slap-slap-slap of my fat hips against her tight, bare ass, and for awhile I did her nice and slow, big long strokes so he could see every dripping inch of my raunchy prick wedged up into her not-so-tight-no-more little pussy.

And I shit you not, Benny stayed and watched the whole time. After awhile I even stopped paying him any mind, in part because it didn't look like he was going to start anything and in part because Zoe's cunt just felt so goddamned amazing I didn't wanna waste the experience eyeballing her dumbshit boyfriend. I couldn't tell you his expression; pissed, horny, surprised, whatever it was it was way too dark inside there for me to see much beyond that he was watching. But I gave him a good show, better than the little shit deserved, riding my gut over his girl's back like I was on horseback with my fingers jammed into her muzz and her moanin' like a bitch in heat for every second of it.  She was noisy too, and whether she meant to or not every fuckin' time she came her boyfriend knew it as well as I did - and he didn't have the benefit of her cunt snugging down tight and quivering around his dick when she did.

I headed to the finish with both paws on Zoe's (or as I liked to think of her, Benny's girlfriend's) hips and squatted so low my thighs were screaming by the end of it, but it was worth it for the angle it gave me, punching my dick up and into her so hard the weasel only had one foot on the ground - the other kept kicking out and flailing around until I grabbed it and held it up for her. Probably made for a great view for Benny but I didn't care because by then my nuts were pulling up, blood was pounding my ears and I was digging for gold in soaked weasel snatch. I wrapped the arm not holding her leg aloft around her chest, dug up under her shirt until I found her breast again, and hugged her back against my gut to make her ride out those last few thrusts right along with me. And then, just like I promised, just as soon as I felt that first twitch in my dick I buried every goddamned inch to the hilt in Zoe's trembling pussy and unloaded what felt like a gallon of spatch in there, just as deep as I could plant it. It felt like her cunt was practically sucking the load out of my nuts the way she was squeezing around me (probably hitting a few orgasms of her own, I thought later) and I was more than happy to feed it all to her, grunting and snarling into her ear all the while.

I was still nuts-deep in her as we both came down off our high, and I stole a glance over to the door - Benny was gone, although I doubted he'd been gone for long. Zoe was still whimpering and breathing all shallow so I let down her leg gentle and let her rest some of her weight onto my dick (no, seriously, when you're a big fucker like me that can help!) so she could relax a little, which she did. Enough, unfortunately, to recompose herself a couple minutes later and tense right back up again.

"Get off me, you fat fuck," she hissed.

Ah well. It ws fun while it lasted. "With pleasure, ma'am," I said mockingly, stepping back from her and taking my dick with me. I wasn't upset she was pissed off now - I got what I wanted. With a lewd schlorp my whole slimy length slopped out of her in one go, chased by a sluice of gooey whitish spunk that pattered to a puddle between her legs and stained the fur of her thighs down to her knees. She gave a sharp cry - like I knew she would given how much meat I'd just hollowed her out with and how quickly I yanked it out - but hey, the little bitch told me to, right? Heh.

"Shit," she muttered, reaching between her legs and trying in vain to catch the mess that was drooling out of her cunt. "Did you really have to cum in me?"

"I told you I was gonna." I grunted, using my balled-up apron retrieved from atop the garbage lid to mop off my dick. "For three hundred fuckin' dollars worth of blow you best be glad I didn't go back door on you."  

"An eight ball's only worth two, jerk," she harumphed, snatching the apron out of my paw and using it to clean herself up as best she could.

"Then you're a cheaper lay than I thought."

Zoe scowled furiuosly at me. "Fuck you," she spat, still mopping herself up between her legs. It was a lost cause, I knew already - she'd be leaking my mess for the next hour at least if my drained nuts had anything to say about it.

"Yeah yeah," I grunted when I reached down to pull of my pants and underwear, sucking my gut to get the former closed up beneath my belly. "Gonna have to wait awhile, I can't get it up again that quick."

Now I'm sure you'd like me to tell you she stuck around for some nice romantic snogging, Benny and I hit it off, and me and the two of them lived happily ever after from then on. But the truth is while I was lighting up a post-fuck stogie Zoe had her shorts and panties back up in about thirty seconds flat and stumbled off without so much as a thank you - but with, of course, my load dripping out of her snatch and a couple hundred bucks worth of coke. I didn't mind. She'd earned it.

When I went back in I washed up and headed back to the grill, silently relieved to find the place was every bit as dead as when I'd left. Lyle was either in his office or had left for the day already so it was just me, a few customers, and a certain dingo waiter who for once, thank fuck, was staying the hell out of me way. He'd barely even look at me, even when I tried to catch his eye with the occasional grin over my shoulder. Pussy, I thought every time. Both how fantastic the one I'd just had was, and how much of one he was for letting me take it. 

I may have been a few grams lighter now than I was half an hour ago, and I had no idea what Benny was thinking about what he'd just seen, but it was worth it.

Epilogue

The next day I cornered Benny in the cooler. I'd been wanting to do it a long time, only since yesterday it was for entirely different reasons.

He turned around to see me standing there, frowning when he recognized who it was who'd joined him.

"What do you want," he mumbled, and tried to look like he was busy packing up coffee creamers.

"I already got what I want," I said with a smirk. "I just wanted to know why you stuck around and watched me take it."

"I didn't watch anything," he said tightly, and without looking at me. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"So, what, you got a twin brother who likes watching me fuck Zoe?"

Benny turned to face me then, scowling. "Okay, so maybe I saw you two. So what."

"You did a lot more than see us, kid," I said, choosing my words carefully. It was satisfying to watch him tense up. "You stuck around for the full show."

"Whatever. I'm not a kid. And Zoe can do what she wants."

I smirked. "Even if what she wants is my dirty ol' prick up in her snatch?"

Benny's jaw set and he glared at me. I thought for a second he might take a swing at me, but he thought better of it real quick when I took a step towards him.

"It's not going to happen again," he declared instead.

"Yeah? You know what? That's just fine with me." I leaned down close to him, keeping that smirk plastered over my muzzle. "I know what her pussy feels like wrapped around my dick, and even if I never fuck her again ain't nothing gonna change that. You can tell yourself it was just for the blow, or 'cuz she got high, or whatever it is you need to think to get right with it. But that sweet little girlfriend of yours gave it up for me real easy kid, real fuckin' easy."

He tried to edge around me then, but there wasn't much space in the cooler. "Whatever," he repeated. "It's not happening again." It was obvious from the way he looked at me that he wanted to say more but didn't dare.

I stepped aside to let him past then. I'd said what I wanted to, and it was giving me a raging fucking hardon I'd need a few minutes in the bathroom to get rid of anyway. "If you say so," I grunted as he was on his way out.

I followed him after I'd gotten what I needed from the cooler, which took me a minute, so I was a little surprised when I went back through the kitchen and found Benny standing there, looking out into the restaurant through the order window. He didn't turn around when I joined him, looking through the opening to see... Zoe, sitting there at my counter just like yesterday, if maybe a little more fidgety than before. Like she was waiting for something. Or someone.

"Huh. She go through all that blow already?" I joked, expecting him to say yes.

Benny looked at me with an expression of dismay. "No," was all he said.

Winner is me. I leered over at him and rested a paw heavily on his shoulder while with the other I untied the back of my apron. "Tell Lyle I'm goin' on break," I said. "And stay the fuck outta the kitchen, I don't feel like an audience this time. Oh, hey, here." I dug in my pocket to pull out my wallet, pulled out the two-pack of rubbers I had with me, and tossed them to him. 

He caught the packets reflexively before looking down at what he was holding. His brow furrowed, then he frowned at me.

"I'm not gonna need 'em." I said, still smirking. Then I shoved the balled-up apron towards his belly (he caught it, too), and headed out into the dining area. "Hey, Zoe honey, how you doin'..."