A true story. More or less.
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Back in 1989 I was managing a Burger King and I was also dealing with a failed marriage. I got married in 1987 to a girl I met in college and the wedding took place after no small amount of needless drama on her part. In retrospect I shouldn't have married her but I was smitten and despite her soap opera behavior I tried to commit.
By January of 1989 it was clear that the marriage was over. My wife moved out of our shitty, low-rent apartment and moved home. By the end of August 1989 the uncontested divorce was final.
Now wind the clock back a bit to the spring of 1986. This was before I got married and when I was an assistant manager at the Burger King in question.
I can't go on with this story without explaining some of my biases as the hiring manager for the restaurant. I didn't like hiring smokers because they were always taking cigarette breaks and the non-smokers only got to take their regular breaks. Hate to shock some of you but I also avoided hiring single mothers because they were not at all dependable. If the kid got sick they'd call in and you'd be screwed trying to cover a position and trying to run the deliveries and etc.
California law at the time allowed for hiring fourteen and fifteen year old kids and I never hired them. Why? Because one law said the minimum that anyone could work was two hours. Another law said that 14/15 year old kids could not work over two hours. So if the kid clocked out one minute late or one minute early the company could be subject to a fine either way.
That didn't stop one of our other idiot assistant managers from hiring Raelene. Larry had a thing for little girls and that was the long and short of why he hired her. Despite my protests the general manager had me schedule Raelene and I did my best to keep her off of Larry's shifts.
I had to intervene a few times when Larry got too forward with Raelene and at the time I didn't notice that she got all starry eyed because someone cared enough to protect her. I'll admit that I just didn't want any trouble with the police coming to the restaurant and it had almost nothing to do with any feelings I had for the girl.
Little did I know that Raelene was nursing a crush. I was oblivious to such things at the time simply because I was painfully in love with my then-fiancΓ©.
After I got married I transferred to a different location and lost touch with Raelene simply because to me she was a little kid and there was no reason for me to stay in touch with her.
Now we come to September of 1989.
One day I stopped into a downtown sandwich shop and went to place an order. I didn't recognize the girl taking the orders but she recognized me.
"Baz, how are you?" she said.
She had changed a bit over the years. Also, the fashions of 1989 had a way of camouflaging what a female actually looked like. Big hair and too much makeup can hide a person.
"It's me, Raelene!" It was then I registered who she was even if I still couldn't match my memory of the little girl with the person in front of me.
She asked her boss to take a break and we sat down to catch up. I wasn't looking for a connection at the time but was just trying to be polite. She was quite the chatterbox and told me of a few boyfriends who hadn't worked out, the various members of her immediate family who were in prison, and her aborted attempt to attend a junior college. Somehow she already knew about my divorce.
We exchanged phone numbers and when I left I expected that was the end of it.
In the restaurant business it's typical for a general manager to have Sunday and Monday off and that held true for me. Raelene was astute enough to observe this and she was also quite the detective who could find out where I lived and this was in the time before the internet made it easy.
This came up because I'd been missing Raelene when she was calling my number and I didn't have an answering machine.
One fine Sunday morning, October 15th to be exact, I'd been up early, gone for a bike ride, got home, got showered, and was getting dressed to go do some shopping when I got a knock at the door.
I opened the door and it was Raelene. Tight white jeans, a blue and white striped Polo shirt, and taller than I remembered. She had a familiar pink box in her hands.
"Hi, Baz! I brought donuts if you have coffee!"
She had basically invited herself in and it was kind of sweet so I ushered her into the apartment and closed the door.
"Do you mind if I take off my shoes? They're killing me!" she asked as she simultaneously undid the straps and stepped out of her four-inch Famolares. She was now the five-foot tall pixie I remembered and suddenly a bit more familiar. At age eighteen she was essentially the same as she had been at age fifteen and there was a cute quality to her that caught my eye.
There was also the fact that she was in my apartment and I hadn't had sex in well over a year. I was twenty-five at the time and I'll admit that despite not being immediately attracted to Raelene the fact of her being in my apartment and taking off her shoes aroused me.
Coffee, donuts, and small talk followed and she stayed long enough that we had an awkward moment around noon. It was that moment when we both knew that it was time to either call it a day and move on or else do something else.
She stood up and so did I.
"Do you want me to stay?" she asked.
I walked around the table and leaned down to kiss her. As I leaned down her arms came up around my neck and we kissed. It was something we both needed.
I'm 6'6" tall to her 5'0" so when I stood up and she kept kissing me I ended up lifting her off her feet. She only weighed about 95lbs at the time. Maybe a little less.
I went to my couch and sat down and had her straddling me. She broke our kiss and smiled at me.
"I've always loved you!" she said. And she said it in a breathless sort of way as if she'd been wanting to say it to me for years.
I was honest, "I had no idea you felt this way!"
She sat up and pulled her Polo shirt over her head and tossed it on the carpet. Her bra still covered her cute little tits. She kissed me again and started grinding herself on me. My hands were on her back feeling her bare skin and I found myself wondering if I was going to cross the proverbial Rubicon.
I felt her tugging at my t-shirt and we broke our kiss again. I raised my arms and she lifted it up and off of me. There was a certain poetry to how she tossed it on the carpet with her own top.
My chest was bare and her petite hands ran over me. I made up my mind about the Rubicon and moved a hand to the center of her back. The clasp of her bra only had two clips and a simple pinch was all it took to undo it.