Just Because They Serve You Doesn’t Mean They Like You,
by MichelleLovesTo
“You’re late!” Mattie said, taking in Cat’s rumpled appearance. Ten o’clock and she looked liked she’d just rolled out of bed. Mattie couldn’t help but feel a little jealous, though; the tall redhead never seemed to do a lick of work, pilfered bags of chips every chance she got, and rarely made it to work on time, yet the boss adored her. Plus she was the perfect level of skinny. Lazy bitch.
“Yep.” Cat tossed her denim jacket and red leather purse behind the counter where they landed on a stack of newspapers. “Ya want me to leave again? There’s no point in us both having our night ruined.”
Mattie sighed. “No, of course not! The least you can do is be on time since I covered for you again. I’m not even…”
“Supposed to be here today. I know. Crawl down from the cross, someone else could use the wood.”
“Would you keep it down?” whispered Mattie. “There are customers in the store.” She used to wonder how Cat kept her job. She was consistently rude to the shoppers and had a mouth like a truck driver. Frankly, Mattie couldn’t stand her, yet lately she’d found herself almost looking forward to seeing her. Fighting with her, really, since they always fought. Sometimes after they’d fought Mattie would be so upset that her face would be flushed when she would splash cold water on it in the dinky, dingy bathroom. Since she had started to wear make-up again the effect was covered up a little. Of course, cold water was therefore out of the question, but she could still often feel her cheeks become hot.
Maybe the lanky woman’s insolence was rubbing off on her. It was getting increasingly difficult not to be rude to the colossally annoying people who frequented the Quick Stop. Well, not rude so much as deliberately slow… and sometimes she’d even pretended to be stupid. Her favorite ploy was to act like she couldn’t figure out change if the total was say, twelve dollars and six cents, and they gave her six pennies after she typed the bill amount into the register. Sometimes people would be patient and look at her with pity, and sometimes they would be rude.
It had started with the man who called her a stupid cunt.
She’d typed the amount into the register, the drawer had popped open, and then he’d offered her the coins. She knew perfectly well how to make change – they tested for that before they hired you – but for a moment she’d just stared at the money in her hand. Balancing work and school had left her constantly exhausted and it was understandable that she’d temporarily lost track.
“They didn’t hire you for your brain, huh? I hope you give good head!” She’d looked up to see the man sneering at her.
It was rude beyond belief. She’d wanted to be offensive right back, tell him to leave, sarcastically say in her best Cat tone, “I’d hope so – I had to suck 37 cocks to get this job!” Instead her voice was bubble blonde as she’d told him she was confused. Passive-aggressive. When he called her that name, she’d felt this profound feeling of satisfaction, as if all was right with the world. It was like she’d needed to make him mad. At her. Pissed off at Mattie Carey. It – and this made no sense – turned her on. She’d enjoyed annoying people before – it was a byproduct of working with the public – but the dampness between her legs was a new development.
There had always been difficult people, but in the beginning she’d prided herself on keeping her cool. Sure, she would bitch to her friends later, or Cat in the beginning when she thought they might be friends, yet she tried to do her job well. Then came the phase where she would let her annoyance show just a little. Why not? Next to Cat she still seemed like Miss Congeniality. This latest thing perplexed her though. When she was stupid or rude and people didn’t respond it disappointed her in some odd way. (Be mad at me! Notice me! Punish me?!)
The thing was that the man came back nearly every day and they played out the exact same scenario, and it began to feel a lot like foreplay. She hated this man, this jackass, this misogynist – really hated him, and wanted to make him furious. The way he looked at her body, the way he insulted her, even his favorite t-shirt – a copper penny and the words, “A penny for your thoughts, only ‘thoughts’ was crossed out and replaced with ‘pussy.’” – offended her to her very core. What man with a shred of decency or respect for women wore something like that? But every day as she intentionally screwed up the change, or pretended to be unable to find his cigarettes, she was also aware that something about him made her quiver with desire. She knew she was wearing tighter clothes and make-up because she wanted him to like her. Or fuck her. Like a child, she sought negative attention rather than not being noticed at all. Which was absurd, because never in a million years would she lower herself to be with him – not for a million dollars, let alone a red cent.
It became something she did with other customers, and that turned her on too, even though it was not as much as with the man who’d called her stupid cunt. She didn’t act like this around the customers she liked, but as soon as someone was a jerk she went into her stupid (cunt) act, that was now taking up a patina of coquettishness. She was filled with shame at giving people she didn’t like ammunition. It wasn’t like people didn’t already make the bullshit assumption that convenience store clerks were idiots. When she’d first started to talk back a little she hadn’t wanted them to think she was dumb – she had wanted to make them feel dumb. It just never seemed to work out that way anymore and each day she was getting a little worse.
Mattie knew Cat had caught her act once or twice. She’d only looked amused, probably assuming Mattie was just playing with the customers to relieve boredom. Mattie never told her that she’d developed a habit of touching herself while listening to Rush Limbaugh and Bill O’Reilly. Sometimes, if the store was slow and she was alone, she would slip down under the counter and think about Howard Stern while she frigged her pussy with one hand and twisted an erect nipple with the other. If she went on his show he would look her over like a piece of meat (ass). Maybe his cronies would get out that laser pointer, and look for flaws. God, she hated his sexist ass.
“Jesus, what ARE you wearing?” asked Cat.
“You’re being rhetorical, right?” she said, rhetorically. It gave her an opportunity to pretend she was restocking the Marlboros. The answer would have been a pair of daisy dukes that had started out a respectable length, but had been shortened two – no, three – times, no bra, and a shirt that had the words, “I swallow” in rhinestones. Mattie couldn’t honestly explain her fashion choices to herself, let alone Cat. It was only a few weeks earlier than she’d lived in loose jeans and a various dark colored hoodies.
“Completely trashy,” commented Cat, sounding oddly amused.
Mattie couldn’t ignore the bait. “Don’t you have a shirt that says that ‘it’ isn’t going to lick itself?”
“Sure I do, and I only wear it when I work graveyard ‘cause the bar crowd doesn’t mind. I don’t wear it when normal people are shopping here. If you’re going to imitate me, do it right. Goddamn! Besides, sometimes people need instructions ‘cause it really isn’t going to lick itself, Mattie.” Cat leveled an intense gaze at her.
What in the hell did that mean? Tagging her name on the end of the sentence and staring into her eyes like that? Exactly what was she getting at? Mattie was not trying to imitate Cat—as if she could. They could wear identical clothes and look very different—Mattie was barely over five feet and prone to being pudgy. She’d never heard a guy complain, they seemed to like her natural shape, but she’d known since puberty that if she didn’t work at it other girls would give her hell.
Still, all the watching what she ate and trips to the gym never gave her the svelte figure she saw in fashion magazines. Her previous loose clothes had hid what she’d felt to be a multitude of sins—hips a little rounder than she’d like, an ass a tad too big, and tits that could safely be termed larger than average. The first couple days after the style change she’d felt embarrassed, thinking her flaws were on display, but the response seemed to be pretty positive—at least from the men who came into the store. Women seemed to be less impressed, but for the first time in her life she was able to see that maybe they were just a tad jealous. Not that she wanted people to think she was trying to dress trashy. Okay, she was, a little, but it was just a phase.
If anything, for the last couple weeks it had become easy to watch her figure. When clothes were form-fitting, every mirror was revealing and even a bigger meal could make her have to unbutton her shorts – which was a little too redneck, even for her. She’d recently given up the fruitless obsession with losing weight, but she didn’t want to gain it either.
She couldn’t say much good about her co-worker, but Cat never made fun of her looks. In fact, the few nice things she’d ever said concerned finding her cute—like a fluffy kitten. The compliments were rare, which was good since she wasn’t sure how she was supposed to respond.
“Why not ring up the nice people?” Cat asked. It was only then that Mattie noticed the couple standing at the counter with a box of rubbers and a pack of Chewlies gum.
“All I need to do is finish with the smokes and then I’m leaving. This is your shift,” Mattie added as Cat grabbed a Weekly World News and hopped up on the block of counters behind Mattie. Dammit! And was it her imagination, or did Cat look especially hot tonight? Her hair was in its standard ponytail, but a few tendrils of copper had escaped their confines, framing her heart-shaped face. She had the most adorable little mole to the left of her mouth which drew Mattie’s eyes to the bow of her upper lip. The scarlet lipstick should have been garish, but somehow it worked. While Mattie didn’t know why someone so tall felt the need to wear stripper heels, even those were pretty sexy, knowing off crimson painted toenails.
“Can someone ring us up? Anybody?” Mattie turned around to look at the tough-looking blonde in her early thirties. She was rather attractive, but frown lines were beginning to form along the corners of her mouth. The man with her seemed to be rather meek, but his eyes kept flickering to the front of Mattie’s shirt while his companion was distracted. A sad little mouse of a man, barely worth noticing.
“What’s the rush? They’ll still be ribbed for your pleasure when you get them home,” Cat offered from behind her paper. Mattie tried to smother a laugh.
“Nobody asked you,” said the woman.
“You worried that if he stares at her tits any longer that he will be too early to rise, too early to bed? There’s a shop that sells toys over on Leonardo.” Cat offered this advice in a detached tone of voice. “Oh, and maybe some desensitizing cream for him.”
“What’s wrong with you?” Mattie asked after they’d sorted out the mistake she’d made with the change and the couple had left the store. “You can’t just say things like that. She’s going to complain to Mosier.”
“Still not going to lick itself, Mattie.”
“Stop saying that – it’s annoying.” And unnerving.
Cat lowered the paper. “What’s going on with Tim? Are you two breaking up?”
Mattie gave a quick laugh. “What? We’re BFFs now? None of your business.”
Cat continued to stare. Such penetrating green eyes.
“Oh, okay! I don’t know. We were getting along great, but lately I’m not that into him.” Tim was handsome, funny, and they had the same outlook and political beliefs. She used to find him really hot, but in the last few weeks he’d started to bore her. He never disagreed with her. When she tried to pick a fight he would apologize. Where was the passion to make her blood boil? She couldn’t believe that it was only a short time ago that she couldn’t wait to see him, text messaged him twenty times a day, and did dip-shitty things like imagine what they’d name their children. One night with him seemed like a prison sentence, how could she have ever considered a lifetime? “Yeah, I guess we might break up.”
“Good for you, he isn’t that great in the sack either,” Cat responded, resuming her reading. “Do you know that, according to this, there was a kid born with instructions? A tag that tells how to care for it. Classic!”
Several seconds went be before Mattie could find words. “What do you mean?”
“Like you get on blankets and sheets, only instead of telling you to tumble dry it, it tells you to diaper and feed it. Supposedly it’ll fall off when the kid hits puberty.”
Mattie yanked the paper out of Cat’s hands, leaving her holding just shreds of cheap paper. “I’ve never discussed with you what Tim’s like in bed.”
The redhead tossed the scraps up in the air like confetti. “Of course not. Tim’s never told me what you’re like either. Because he’s a gentleman. That’s one weird-assed sound he makes when he comes though – a little like he’s yodeling…or gargling.”
“You…you’re saying you’ve slept with my boyfriend?”
Cat raised her eyebrows as if she couldn’t believe Mattie was seeking confirmation of the obvious. “You just said you’re not that into him. So what if he was into me two or three times?” She began to kick her heels against the counter rhythmically.
“Quit!” she said in a raised voice. She wanted to yell, but was still not convinced the redhead wasn’t lying. She wouldn’t give her the satisfaction. “You’re full of shit!”
“Tsk, tsk – not at work!”
“You’re lying. For one thing, he doesn’t yodel!”
“Maybe you did it wrong…because I made him yodel. This is a little disappointing – I was hoping to not have to train you a lot. He also has that disgusting port wine birthmark on his left thigh. He was pumping my ass when he made that sound...he did mention you didn’t allow that. You come across as such a fluffy kitten, but you’re clearly the boss of that relationship.”
I’m about to lose my mind. I’ve never been more…horny…angry in my entire life. And there it was – she was sexually aroused. It wasn’t that she liked the idea of Cat with Tim – she loathed it – but she knew the wetness soaking the cotton of her panties and the hardness of her nipples could be nothing else but lust. God! Forget Tim, what kind of sounds did Cat make?
While she was taking this all in, trying to make sense of the weird response of her body, Cat hopped down from the counter, grabbed her purse, and headed for the back room. Mattie took a deep breath and followed her, almost tripping over one of Cat’s shoes. It was hard to enforce the No Shoes No Shirt No Service sign when one of the cashiers was barefoot.
Inappropriate vaginal secretions aside, this woman did not get to fuck her man until she dumped him, which would be the five minutes after she got some alone time with her cell, but still! Just where did that Amazonian freak get off treating her like this?
“Don’t you walk away from me! I could just kill…you.” Mattie’s voice trailed off when she saw Cat perched on a box marked Hormel, her jeans and panties lying several feet away, her long legs spread almost impossibly wide. She’d lifted the hem of her top up to reveal apple-sized breasts which she cupped like she was offering them as a midnight snack. Mattie barely noticed that the contents of Cat’s purse were dumped out next to her. “Jesus, what are you doing?”
Cat smiled slowly. “Waiting…just waiting.”
Mattie’s shock dissipated some of her anger. It occurred to her that Cat was bughouse crazy. How could she have worked next to someone (when that someone deigned to show up) and not known she was out of her mind?
She tried to sound non-confrontational and comforting. “Cat, do you need me to call someone?”
The exposed woman laughed. “Don’t talk to me like I’m slow, you worthless bitch. I’m completely sane and several steps ahead of you. Tim told me that he doesn’t love me, but is addicted to fucking me. Seems I’m quite the hellcat. I told him I didn’t need his love – I have a man. What I didn’t tell him was I was only doing him to piss you off. It’s really no different than the time I put sugar in your gas tank and you missed your little sister’s graduation. Remember how hard you cried?”
Mattie tried to sound flippant since she wasn’t sure how else to act. She also tried not to stare at Cat’s nipples (like raspberries) or the forbidden pink folds below. “Next you’ll be telling me you paid the groomer to give my dog a bad shave.”
“No, but I do know several people who’ll attest they saw you stealing from the cash register. The funny part: I didn’t pocket a dime – I gave it all to them. I still intend to get paid though. ”
The bitch was evil. It made Mattie sick to think that her boss, or anyone, would think she’d steal.
She didn’t know whether to beat the crap out of Cat…or kiss her. “Why would you want to do any of this?”
Cat shrugged. “I find you hot for some reason.”
“But you…have a boyfriend. You told me you did! And why would you torture me? It would hardly make me want to be with you.” Even if it did… but it shouldn’t, and how could Cat possibly have expected that?
“Yes, and I’m madly in love with him! He made me see that an open relationship doesn’t mean people aren’t committed! In fact, he gave you to me.”
“You’re making no sense – please, just get dressed!” She closed her eyes, but image of the woman wouldn’t leave her. Her temples throbbed and it was getting hard to think straight.
“Please, give up and come lick my cunt,” suggested Cat. “No? Not yet? Chad is a hypnotist. One night after a truly legendary screw I asked him if he believed there was a fine line between love and hate…or lust and hate for that matter. The discussion was quite interesting.
“By the way…I called your parents and asked them if you were missing your prescription for Valtrex ‘cause I found it in the store restroom. Your mother – bless her heart, didn’t know that was herpes medication!”
Mattie’s eyes flew open so see that Cat was massaging her pussy in a circular motion—preparing it. “I don’t have herpes!”
“Of course not – like I’d ever fuck someone with VD! She was completely hysterical – you’ll have some explaining to do! She’s still pissed about you dropping out, right?”
“I’m not a lesbian, and if I were I wouldn’t be with someone who is trying to ruin my life.” Mattie had the disconcerting feeling that she didn’t sound convincing at all. She wanted Cat more than she’d ever wanted anyone. She’d told the truth about never having been interested in women before (other than the stray thought that she’d probably make an exception for Angelina Jolie – who wouldn’t?).
At this moment, though, she wanted this evil, strange, possibly criminally insane woman very much. She remembered the smell of Cat when she would occasionally show up for work with her hair still damp from the shower – like strawberries. She wondered if the scent was shampoo or soap, and if she would smell like that… well, all over. Her hair, the base of her throat, the hollow between her breasts, the slight furrow that indicated the divide of her ribcage, and lower.
Her random Angelina fantasies were never more involved than a heavy make-out session and sometimes imagining Angie going down on her, but Fantasy Her had never returned the favor. She’d never considered licking another woman there. It had never seemed the least bit appealing.
She swallowed to keep from drooling.
Cat’s pussy wouldn’t taste like strawberries and even if the smell of her soap lingered in the small copper patch of pubic hair, the pussy would taste decidedly like whatever pussy tasted like, which she’d always imagined would make her gag. But now she was fighting to stop herself from sampling that flavor? She was suddenly sure she would like it – even if she hated Cat. Maybe because she hated Cat, but that made no sense at all.
“Come here, let me tell you a secret,” Cat said in a low voice, like they were two best friends sitting next to each other at the mall and she’d remembered a hot piece of gossip. Mattie knew it was a bad idea to go anywhere near the redhead, but maybe if she got a little closer she could smell her, feel her body heat. She didn’t have to touch…or taste.
She walked over to the woman perched on the box undoubtedly filled with small microwaveable bowls of Dinty Moore Stew or Chili. How dangerous could this be? This decidedly unerotic place and this decidedly unpleasant woman couldn’t offer real temptations. There was nothing she needed here. She was being ridiculous.
“What?” she asked in a voice that could only be heard because they were now so close. Mattie breathed in and thought she could maybe detect a hint of strawberries and something muskier but even more appealing. “What?” she asked again.
“I have a camera in the bathroom to watch you changing. What with that cute little biking outfit you wear now that your car is out of commission and your habit of going to the club after work, there’s hours of material. I watch it in bed with my Chad. It’s an utter invasion of your privacy.”
“That’s what you needed to tell me?” Mattie asked, her knees no longer seeming strong enough to support her. Oh God, she really could smell Cat, and she loved it. Being cruel really did arouse the evil bitch, and Mattie didn’t want her to stop anymore.
“No, Mattie – I was just going to remind you that it’s not going to lick itself. And you want to, don’t you? The first taste is free.”
Mattie’s answer was to drop to a kneel between Cat’s legs. She tentatively stuck out her tongue, already feeling the moist heat of the other woman on her face.
“One last thing,” Cat said. Mattie looked up at her and the redhead laughed, probably at the longing on the face of her new toy—no need to go to Leonardo street. Cat reached over to grab a penny from amidst garish red lipstick and Chewlies wrappers. “Chad wanted me to give you this…he’ll be by to collect later.”