Customers

I thought I'd hate my summer job of delivering pizzas. It was just a summer job, something to do before starting my first year of college. Drive around, verify credit cards since no one ever uses cash any more. Hope to get a tip every now and then.

My manager Robin was great, though. She had been at this job for nine years, ever since getting her driver's license.

She told me, and the three other new drivers, yes, our job sucked. Yes, some customers are assholes. And yes, your car will smell like pizzas for months after you quit. But our customers are people. And people have feelings. And for some of our customers? This pizza is a luxury. Don't make them sorry they spent their hard-earned money on us; there's a hundred other places trying get that same dollar out of their pocket.

I took those words to heart. I remember our mom getting us a pizza from the place down the street on the third of every month, when our dads would send her our child support checks. It took us six kids less than five minutes scarf down that extra- large pepperoni, but those were some of the best five minutes, chomping our way through that big old pizza.

So, I'd drive up, put a smile on my face and deliver five minutes of happy fun pizza to my customers. I'd ring the doorbell or knock on their door and announce that their pizza was there. This habit helped get us some more orders. A neighbor would hear me make my announcement and would ask what pizza place I was from. I'd tell them and tell them the phone number to call for their own pizza.

So, not even twenty one days into my summer job, Robin gave me a twenty cent bump up in pay. That don't sound like much, but hey, every little bit helps, especially since my dad ain't sending in my child support checks no more because I'm eighteen. Bradley, my big brother is a cop in Decatur and should be helping out a bit, but we haven't seen him since he moved out. We don't even see Bradley on Christmas or Thanksgiving. So, really, my money does help out a bit.

"Hey Trey," Robin called out right at closing time one night. "Got one more for you."

She kind of smirked when she gave me the vegan pizza and the address. I don't have shit against vegans; I just don't get it. They won't even use lip balm because it has bees wax in it. What good is a pizza without meat, or even cheese on it?

The guy that answered the door smiled real big and said I was a cute one. I thanked him, got his signature for the credit card and was ready to go; he was my last delivery for the night.

"Hey, want um, want an extra ten bucks?" he asked.

"Yeah," I agreed.

He held out a ten dollar bill and asked me to come in. I stepped into his tiny apartment and looked around.

The room was maybe about ten feet by ten feet and the couch was way too big for the room. Don't get me wrong. It was a very nice couch, but it was huge and the room was too small.

In order to earn my ten dollar tip, Mr. Roy wanted me to spunk all over his pizza. That was it. He put the pizza box on the coffee table, opened it and I pulled out my dick and spanked my monkey, thinking about doing my manager, Robin. She had kind of a big ass and I'd really like to do her up that big, bouncy ass of hers.

"Oh, yes," Mr. Roy giggled as I creamed his vegan pizza.

So the next time Mr. Roy ordered a vegan pizza, Robin and I smirked at each other. That ten bucks was easy money and it put gas in my mom's car. She still needed to get my two baby brothers and my baby sister and my older sister to school. My older sister Denise has special needs, so even though she's twenty two years old, she still goes to school.

And, now that I'm working at the pizza place? I'm the one brings home a giant pizza for us. First time I did it, my mom got all bent out of shape about it.

But when I told her it was my way of paying her back for all the pizzas she'd bought us over the years, and it made me feel good seeing how happy Denise and my three bratty younger brothers and sister got when I came in, carrying that box and it was for them and for her. It made my Mom cry. I guess she never realized how big that pizza was for us kids. It was a big deal and it still is a big deal.

Mr. Roy is good for a pizza delivery every two or three weeks. And he's not the only gay guy on the list. Mr. Blake is also gay, and likes answering his door totally naked. Travis, one of the other drivers won't even go to Mr. Blake's trailer because Mr. Blake keeps asking Travis real embarrassing questions when he's standing there, dick hanging down over his sad little balls.

Mr. Blake's not the only one that answers the door naked. In these apartments right down the street from us? In Apartment 112, Mrs. Sylvia answers the door, giant titties flopping around, big old gray bush right there in your face. The fact that she's at least fifty, maybe even sixty years old is bad enough, all them stretch marks and wrinkles and shit. But Mrs. Sylvia's also about three hundred pounds, pretty much a beach ball with arms.

And because I just smile and agree, it is a pretty day, yeah, we been getting some really hot days, it's not just how hot it is, but how damned humid it gets here in Atlanta and just keep smiling, Mrs. Sylvia asks for me whenever she calls in for a pizza.

Same apartments, 203, there's a really pretty red head and her blonde girlfriend. Lori, the red head answers the door naked while Tammy stands there smirking. They're both gay, so I know I'll never get to fuck either one of them, but Lori's got really cute little titties, kind of like two small pears hanging there and her bush is as red as the curly hair on her head.

Lori told me, whenever she loses a bet, she has to answer the door naked. She also told me, she's always glad when it's me and not Travis or Latrell; they make her really uncomfortable.

"Uh, Tammy don't ever lose?" I asked as Lori signed the charge slip.

"Uh huh, but when she does? I get Chinese," Lori told me.

Breaks my heart. I'd really love to see Tammy answer the door just once. But, at least Lori's cute.

The fourth of the month, Robin answered the order line and squealed. The dining area of our pizza place is closed and I'm just waiting until 10:00 to roll around so I can get out of there.

"Okay, Trey, one more, and then you're out of here," Robin said real happy. "That was Miss Tabitha; she's been our customer for as long as I can remember."

The single wide trailer has a long wooden ramp off to the side of the steps, so I know Miss Tabitha or someone lives there is in a wheelchair. Because of Denise, I've kind of learned to pick up on those kinds of things.

I knocked on the door and announce I'm there to deliver a pizza for Miss Tabitha. A minute later, the door opens, and I'm looking into the saddest brown eyes I've ever seen in my life. The pizza in my hand weighs more than the tiny body in the wheelchair.

"Oh boy!" Miss Tabitha smiled.

"Yes ma'am, one pepperoni and pineapple, add jalapenos," I smiled. "Know what? That does sound pretty good; I'm going have try that someday."

"Oh! Want to?" Miss Tabitha asked, eyes real hopeful.

"Just one slice," I said as she scrawled the absolutely worst signature I've ever seen.

I got a blind guy orders a pizza every Sunday at noon, before the one o'clock football games start and his signature isn't that bad. I can't tell what Miss Tabitha's last name even starts with, let alone what her last name might be.

"My sister Denise? She don't like jalapenos, says they burn her butt," I said as I put the pizza on the table. "Of course, I tell her, she burns my butt."

Miss Tabitha laughed and got us both some paper plates. I got her a pretty big slice and only took a small one for myself. I liked it a lot; the pepperoni is somewhat spicy, and the pineapple is nice and sweet, but kind of tangy, and then that jalapeno just adds that little bit of something extra to the whole thing.

Miss Tabitha insisted I have another piece so I got another small piece. While we ate, she told me why she was in a wheelchair.

When Miss Tabitha was nine years old, she was skipping rope on the sidewalk and this delivery driver was real drunk and ran over her. Guy didn't even stop, just kept on going down the sidewalk to the corner, and then turned the corner. A neighbor had seen the whole thing and called the police and when they got there, the delivery driver was making a delivery right around the corner.

Miss Tabitha's mom sued the delivery company and the driver and got two million dollars. I kind of looked around the trailer. I mean, don't get me wrong, it's an all right trailer, but two million dollars should have bought a whole lot more than a single wide trailer.

"Oh, believe me, didn't take my mom no time spend every last penny of that money," Miss Tabitha said, real angry. "Go ahead, get you another piece."

"Miss Tabitha, I eat pizza all day long," I said. "I don't want another piece."

"Yeah, I'd be big as a house I worked there," she smiled.

I couldn't help thinking about Robin when Miss Tabitha said that. No, Robin's not as big as a house. But she does have a nice, big butt. Probably from all the orange soda she drinks all day long. I'm surprised Robin's teeth aren't orange; I've never seen her not have an orange soda in her hand.

When Miss Tabitha's mom ran out of the two million dollars, she got Miss Tabitha on Social Security Disability. And started spending those checks minute they come in. Finally, when Miss Tabitha was twenty years old, she called a lawyer she'd seen on television and sued her mom. So now she lives in this trailer. And, when her Social Security check comes in, she orders a large pepperoni and pineapple, add jalapenos. And Miss Tabitha's not stupid; she knows Miss Robin don't even charge her for the jalapenos.

Denise is on Social Security Disability. How the government thinks anyone can live off that pitiful bit of money is beyond me. Our light bill is more than Denise's check.

"Last guy Miss Robin sent? Guy was a butt hole," Miss Tabitha said, rubbing my arm. "I'm real glad she sent you this time."

"I uh, yes ma'am," I agreed. "I am too. Hey, before I go, you need anything?"

"No; Lydia? She's my caretaker was by yesterday," Miss Tabitha smiled.

Next day, Robin gave me a big smile when I came in. She showed me the on-line survey Miss Tabitha had done. She gave the pizza all five stars and gave me five stars and said if she could, she'd give me ten or twenty stars. Then I had to deliver a pizza to Mr. Blake and Mrs. Sylvia. Two fat people that like answering the door in their birthday suits. I believe in God, and I know that God has a pretty bizarre sense of humor.

The next order made up for that, though. Five pizzas to a sorority. A bunch of drunk girls flashing their boobs at me and laughing their asses off. Four of them gave me kisses for being such a sweet guy. I don't know how they figured I was a sweet guy; all I did was deliver some pizzas.

Travis quit; I wasn't sorry see him go. He had a super shitty attitude and complained all the time about everything. Even shit wasn't even our business. Police brutality, gun control, welfare reform. Shit ain't even our business.

Once, Travis went on a three minute screaming rant about some CEO that got a five million dollar bonus when the company had lost a half a billion dollars. How is that any of our business? Shit! It's their money. They want to give it to some numb nuts that pissed away a half a billion dollars, that's their right.

Robin shut him up when she said, for all we knew, that company might have lost ten billion dollars, if Mr. CEO hadn't saved their asses. Travis couldn't say anything because that company had lost three billion the year before.

And with Travis gone, the three of us drivers got a lot more business. Yeah, my car was really starting to pay for all the miles, but I was making pretty good money; my college tuition wouldn't be cheap. I can get another car, but I don't know if I can get another education.

It was a five week month which meant money was real tight in our house. I knew, if money was real tight in our house, Miss Tabitha probably had it worse.

So, on my day off, I bought an extra-large pepperoni and 'delivered' it to our house. Robin smiled and gave me the employee discount for that one.

After we'd destroyed that pizza, I went back and ordered a large pepperoni and pineapple, add jalapenos. Robin looked at me real hard for a minute, then smiled and playfully slapped my face.

"Tell Miss Tabitha I said hi," Robin smiled as she quickly cut the pizza.

I got to Miss Tabitha's trailer and knocked, announcing I was there to deliver her pizza.

"But, I didn't order, I can't afford," she complained.

"Yes ma'am, I know that, Miss Tabitha," I said.

Even though I'd eaten a bunch of pizza at my house ten minutes ago, I had three pieces with Miss Tabitha. While we ate, she told me all about some Judge Judy she watched couple minutes ago. It took me a couple of minutes to figure out that Judge Judy was some kind of television show.

"This girl said she didn't bring her bills and Judge Judy said, what did you think you was coming here to do? Did you think you were going to the beach?" Miss Tabitha laughed, a real happy laugh.

Whole thing sounded stupid to me; the girl claimed she'd paid for her car repairs and her roommate claimed she'd been one pay for it. Roommate had bank statement showing the withdrawal for the exact amount of the repairs and the car owner had nothing. Doesn't take a rocket scientist figure that one out.

She also told me about some program about some people that are extreme cheapskates. God that just sounded horrible. People so damned cheap they reuse mouthwash and even wash dental floss so they can use it again. There are some nasty people in this world, you hear?

And it really made me sad. This woman; I couldn't tell you how old Miss Tabitha is, probably thirty, thirty five or so, and that was her life. Sitting and watching low class idiots on television.

I asked Miss Tabitha if she needed anything before I left; my mom had a date that night. Denise can be left on her own, but Mom just feels better if I'm there to watch her.

Miss Tabitha asked if I'd take the garbage out for her. The dumpster was right around the corner from her trailer so it wasn't a big deal. But, oh my God, that garbage stunk. I knew I'd have to wash my hands a hundred times before I'd feel like I got them clean.

The next day, Robin showed me the review Miss Tabitha had done. The pizza got five stars and I got a hundred stars. Robin then gave me my orders and I was on my way.

Even with Travis gone, it was a pretty slow day. At nine, Robin gave me three more orders and told me I was off after that.

Mrs. Sullivan was a pleasant woman that smiled real big when I announced myself. She was the second of my three orders and asked if I'd come back after I delivered my last pizza and bread sticks and cinnamon sticks.

"I'll make it worth your while," she said, showing me a twenty dollar bill.

The beach ball with arms at my last stop was so drunk he could barely hang onto the three boxes. I was very polite; the last drunk I'd run into had given me and the pizza a one star review. Said I was rude and our pizza had been cold and we'd forgotten the extra cheese. Thankfully, that review was soon buried underneath a hundred other reviews.

I returned to Mrs. Sullivan's house. It wasn't a MacMansion, but it was pretty damned close. Tucker, right outside of Atlanta really does have some nice houses.

"Oh goody!" she smiled and asked me in.

We stepped down into her living room. The pizza box was on the coffee table; it hadn't even been opened yet. The furniture all looked super expensive, the kind of stuff comes out of a catalog, not out of the cheap ass furniture store in Duluth. I'd rather use milk crates and two by fours for furniture than buy that store's crap.

Mrs. Sullivan sat on the couch and patted the couch. I sat down and she asks me if I've ever eaten pussy. I mean, just comes right out and asks me if I've ever eaten pussy.

I had not, so I told her I had not. She laughed, like she was so happy to hear this. Then she pulls open her dress and she's got some nice tits and a little bit of a belly and this hairless pussy.

Mrs. Sullivan said she was sixty five years old, but I can tell you, she didn't look sixty five. She squeezed her titties and told me they were the best money could buy. I believed her; they looked great.

For my twenty bucks, I had to eat Mrs. Sullivan's pussy. She spread her legs and put her feet on the coffee table. I knelt on the rug between those nice legs and looked at her pretty pussy.

First thing she told me was her hair had been removed by laser. She would never have to shave her arm pits, legs, or box ever again. She told me, step by step how to eat her pussy. She told me to use my fingers too; God gave me two hands. One was for jacking off, I couldn't help but think of Mr. Roy and his vegan pizza, the other hand was for pleasuring my customers.

Her pussy didn't taste bad. I've heard about pussy tasting like fish. Mrs. Sullivan didn't taste like fish. She really didn't taste like much of anything.

After her orgasmed, she gave me my twenty dollar bill. She got up, kissed my cheek and told me to take the pizza with me; she didn't eat those nasty things. Too much carbs. So, we got a large Supreme. I picked the mushrooms and onions off for Denise and she was happy.

Mrs. Sullivan gave us a five star rating. The drunk didn't give us any rating; I guess he passed out before he could log on to rate us.

And that night, Mr. Roy ordered a vegan pizza. When I delivered it, I asked him if he didn't just want to get the spunk straight from the source. He did not. So, I pulled out my whang and thought about Robin's nice fat ass in her unbelievably tight jeans; I have no idea how she walks in them. But I can tell, she is not wearing panties.

"Oh my! Oh yes, you must have been saving up for me," Mr. Roy squealed as I spunked all over his pizza.

Two weeks later, Miss Tabitha made her monthly order. I delivered it and, man, should have seen how them sad eyes of hers lit up. I had two slices of pizza with her and listened to more stuff about Judge Judy. I checked her garbage and it needed to go to the dumpster. We got another glowing review out of Miss Tabitha.

Mrs. Sullivan ordered another pizza and I made sure she was the last stop of my route. She paid me twenty bucks to eat her and finger fuck her pussy. I asked her if I gave her the twenty bucks back, could I fuck her. I mean, my dick was rock hard and kind of hurt I was so horny.

Mrs. Sullivan scooted her butt to the edge of the couch and told me to go to town. I slid my dick into her; she was already pretty wet from my eating her out and her orgasm.

"Oh dear Lord yes," she screamed and I had to think of Mr. Blake standing there, belly hanging down, almost hiding his tiny dick. Then I had to think about Mrs. Sylvia and her three hundred pound ass. Then, I had to think about Mr. Blake and Mrs. Sylvia fucking.

"Oh sweet Jesus, you little mother fucker," Mrs. Sullivan screamed and clamped down on my dick.

I squirted up into her; that pussy was tight. When I went to give her the twenty dollar bill, Mrs. Sullivan smiled and dug out a hundred dollar bill. So, I made a one hundred and twenty dollar tip, plus a large Supreme pizza.

Two weeks later, Mrs. Sullivan made another order. Again, I made sure she was the last stop on that route. She lay out two crisp one hundred dollar bills and asked me if I'd ever had a creampie. She laughed her ass off when I asked if she meant a Boston Cream Pie.

I ate her to one orgasm, then fucked her. Then, after I squirted my spunk up in her, she made me eat my own spunk out of her pussy. My brother Jackson needed braces or I would have told Mrs. Sullivan where to stick her money.