I Delivered More Than Pizza

My name is Rebecca Davis, formerly known as Tabitha.

My first job after graduating high school was delivering part time for Pizza Hut. Mom wanted me to go to college, of course, but I wasn't certain I really wanted to. I know people who had gone thousands in debt to go to college and had to take second jobs to help pay it off because they couldn't get jobs in the fields they went to college for.

Both men and women have told me I'm beautiful and that I should maybe look into modeling. I don't have any interest in it whatsoever. I don't think I'm unattractive, mind you, but I've never considered myself model material. I'm 5'4" and 110 pounds with blonde hair and gray eyes, and C-cup breasts. I guess my ass and my legs are nice. I've seen hundreds of models and they're stunning. I just never thought of myself as anything but an average girl.

That still didn't stop people from hitting on me. A few women have even done it, too. I've been with a few girls and had fun, so it really didn't bother me. I'm not totally straight, but I just prefer guys. Girls are only a nice change of pace.

For the most part, I let it the innuendo slide. Most of them were generally harmless. However, there was one customer who almost made me kick him in the balls. He went beyond cute innuendo and into sexual harassment.

I was on what we call a "two bagger." That is, one run, but two separate delivery orders. The first delivery was to a dumpy ranch-style house near the city limits. I'd never been there before. There was a nearly new high-riser Ford in the unpaved driveway and the lawn was in shitty shape. And there was a smell coming from inside that almost made me heave. The guy who placed the order was a tall, really skinny, crew-cutted guy in his mid-thirties. He was so ballsy that he blatantly hit on me with his wife and two children looking on. She didn't say a word. This prick kept saying how pretty I was and he was a real man. He claimed he was a Marine, which I don't believe for a second.

I finally told this prick that I had less than zero interest in him and that what he was doing was against the law and he should be ashamed of himself when he had a wife and kids. He just shrugged. He said he wasn't giving me a tip, but would give me five dollars for my phone number. I grabbed the money and left without thanking him. I could hear him chuckling as I walked off. I was pissed at him, but what pissed me off worse was that he had no respect for his wife and kids. I felt awful for them because they were stuck with a sorry asshole. I was so upset over it that I pulled into a do-it-yourself car wash and broke down. I thought about calling the police and having Crew Cut arrested for sexual harassment. After about five minutes, I took a deep breath and tried to compose myself. Using Kleenex and a bottle of water, I cleaned up the tear streaks on my face as best I could and took the second delivery to an apartment complex next door to the car wash. I put on my best fake smile and tried to act normally and apologized for the delay to the guy who answered the door. The ticket said his first name was Dave.

"Are you alright?" Dave asked in a concerned tone. "You look like you've been crying. What's wrong?"

"Huh? Oh? Someone ran a stop sign and nearly hit me," I lied. "Just shook me up a little you know? I'm fine though, thank you."

And I smiled again. But it was genuine.

"Well... okay, Rebecca," he said nodding.

"How'd you know my name?" I asked.

"Your nametag," he replied pointing to it.

Duh! I winced and blushed. I was thinking Dave wasn't buying my lie. He paid for his $13.50 order with a twenty and told me the rest was mine and asked if I was really okay. I said yes and thanked him and left.

I hoped that Dave didn't think my behavior was a ploy to gain sympathy and felt a little guilty about lying to him. He actually called my store and expressed his concern to the manager, who took me aside when I got back. I broke down again. I told him about what happened at Crew Cut's house. He gave me a few minutes to compose myself and said it was cool and that they wouldn't accept delivery orders from him again.

The next day, my day off, I went to Dave's house to thank him for his kindness and concern. He looked a little surprised to see me and invited me in.

"Don't worry about it, Rebecca. I was just concerned," he said. "Your manager told me what really happened. I hope you didn't get in hot water because that wasn't my intention."

"Nah," I said. "I was just so angry. The guy's on the ban list now. I'm thinking about calling CPS."

"You should," said Dave. "For the wife and kids' sake."

I did actually. I don't know what happened, but within a couple of weeks, the house had a for sale sign on the lawn and the truck was gone. I never saw Crew Cut again.

I began choking up.

"Hey, Rebecca, you're too beautiful to cry," Dave said.

Then he began stuttering trying to explain what he meant and that it was not a come-on. It was actually hilarious and charming at the same time. I went from tears to laughing. Dave sounded like a genuinely decent guy and I told him I was flattered.

"I really appreciate the concern, Mr..."

"Dave," he corrected me.

"Uh, okay... Dave," I said. "It's cool. You're really sweet to be concerned and I just basically wanted to let you know I really appreciate the kindness and the concern and stuff and say thank you. That's all." 

"Ah, you're welcome," he replied.

I kissed him on the cheek, which stunned him. I was about to leave, but then I stopped.

"Hey! Want to get a milkshake?" I asked.

Dave blinked in surprise.

"I'm under drinking age," I explained.

Why I asked him out I don't know. Dave was at probably twice my age. Then I realized I might have just asked a married man out on a date.

"Oooh... I hope you're not married," I said sheepishly.

"No, no... Single," he replied.

I breathed a sigh of relief.

"Thanks for the offer. It sounds great," he said.

"Well, let's go then. I'll drive," I said.

Did he think he I might repay his niceness by having sex with him? Did I think I would have sex with him? Did I want to? I don't know. Dave wasn't bad looking by any stretch. But I wasn't in the habit of having sex with strange men or going all the way with a guy after a date or two. I love sex, don't get me wrong, but I just think it's more enjoyable with someone you know. I remember fucking one guy I met at an amusement park. I thought he was hot looking and he kept complimenting me, but he wasn't crude about it. He had a nice-sized dick and was alright in bed, but the night was pretty forgettable because there was no spark. I don't regret doing it, but the intimacy was just not there. I know a couple of girls who can get off fucking practically anybody, but I need the intimacy.

In truth, I was a good girl growing up.

I was raised single-handedly by my mother. My dad died about two months after I was born. A drunk driver slammed into him on the highway and forced him up a hill into a cement support for the east/west highway. He was killed instantly. The drunk died en route to the hospital according to the police and coroner reports. His BAC was over three times the legal limit and he'd had two prior DUI convictions. He left behind a wife and an eleven-year-old daughter.

Mom and my maternal grandma did a great job of raising me. I stayed with Granny while mom was working. Growing up, I can't remember her not having two jobs. We weren't wealthy, but we were happy. Mom occasionally dated, but nothing came of them.

I listened to mom and Granny about boys and sex and promised them I'd stay a virgin until I was an adult, and when I did become sexually active, I promised I would always use birth control or at least make the guy wear a condom every time.

Their concern was understandable. Granny got pregnant with my mom at fifteen by a neighborhood boy and regretted not waiting until she was old enough to support a child. She dropped out of school to raise her and was married three times. The first two were assholes. The first guy cheated constantly on her and the second guy was abusive.

Mom gave birth to me at seventeen; my dad was in his late twenties. They didn't exactly have a happy marriage, but from what I was told, he was thrilled that he was going to be a father and they said they wanted to stay together for me.

Mom and Granny preached to me to not make the mistakes they did. The nuns and the priests at the parochial school I attended tried to guilt trip students into staying celibate until they were married. We weren't Catholic; mom just didn't trust public schools. She told me that Catholic schools may have had a reputation of providing a good education, but their views on sex were bullshit because priests and nuns vowed never to have it.

"Rebecca: Don't listen to people talk about things they have no clue about," she told me. "When it comes to history or math, yeah, listen to the sisters. But when it comes to sex, they're clueless. You listen to

me

about that stuff, alright?"

Oh, but then number eighteen rolled around. I let Todd, the boy I was dating, go all the way. He wasn't a virgin, but he'd had little experience.

I wasn't on the pill, but I made him wear a condom. He didn't want to, but I told him I wasn't putting out unless he did. He didn't have any money, so we went to the convenience store. I'd never bought condoms in my life and I was paranoid someone would recognize me and tell mom or Granny I was in there buying condoms. I gave him the money and stayed in the car. It hurt a little when he stuck it in me, but he was on the small side, so it wasn't too bad. It was easier and less painful than I thought it would be. I didn't even bleed. I came, but it was more from rubbing my clit while he was awkwardly pounding me doggie style than his dick. He thought he was the king of the world, but I only let him think that. We broke up a little later.

The second guy I fucked was another guy I went to school with named Paul. He was a very nice guy, but he wasn't the most athletic or the most handsome. I'd heard rumors that the guy was hung like Ron Jeremy and was curious. We saw each other at the convenience store one day and I remembered the rumors. So I dropped a hint about a movie I wanted to see that coming out that weekend and he took it and asked me out. I told him I'd love to, but I didn't have the money. He said he'd pay for everything. I accepted. But I also wanted to satisfy my curiosity and I needed a good fuck anyway.

Well, the rumors were sort of true. Paul wasn't as big as Ron Jeremy, but his dick was still pretty damn big. He was a gentle lover though. I actually fucked him a few times. However, we had to break up because he'd enlisted in the Navy. We had one last fuck the night before he reported for basic training.

Don't get the wrong idea about me. I wasn't promiscuous and I didn't flaunt myself. I admit being a little slutty on occasion is a bit of a turn-on for me, but I save that for the bedroom. Still, I prided myself on becoming good at giving head. I got that from pornos. Or maybe I'm just a natural at sucking dick. Learning to deep throat was a bit tough, but I think I got pretty good at in a fairly short amount of time. Sexually speaking, outside of having a hard dick pounding my pussy doggie style, my favorite thing is blowing a guy and seeing the look on his face when he's about to shoot a load in my mouth. I used to think swallowing a guy's cum was disgusting, but I found out that I actually liked the taste of it when a guy I was fucking one night held my head down while he came in my mouth and forced me to swallow.

However, I didn't want to get into a long-term relationship because I craved my independence. I'm not a love 'em and leave 'em type, but I guess I get bored with a guy after a couple of months. I know I was just a booty call for some guys I knew from my school days. That was okay with me. I only wanted the sex and no strings attached for either of us.

One night, I even let a guy fuck me in the ass. I like it now, but I never let really big guys do it, and I don't do it all the time, and I don't let every guy I fuck do it.

I even took money for sex for a time. Yeah. I was a hooker. It wasn't for long, but I did it and I don't regret it.

I began doing it about a year or so before I met Dave.

I guess you can tell by now that I love to fuck. But I never considered doing it for money until I had money problems. It began when I came down with bronchitis. I went to the emergency room terrified that I'd caught an incurable disease. I was relieved when I was told I only had bronchitis. The meds the doctor prescribed cleared it up. Insurance paid for a lot of it, but I still had a $420 hospital bill to pay. And on top of that, 
I had a $350 car insurance payment. The car was a graduation gift from mom and Granny, so I didn't owe on it, thank God. But if I didn't pay my insurance bill on time, I couldn't deliver and if I couldn't deliver, I couldn't pay any of my bills. Oh, I could've borrowed the money, but I still would've had to pay it back later.

I thought working extra hours would be enough. Fridays are our busiest day, I asked to work a full-day Friday shift. Fourteen hours. But tips were lousy. I thought I should've made at least $200, but I only brought in a little less than half of that.

Desperate times call for desperate measures. The idea hit me during work the next day.

I knew Brandon from school. He was from a very well-off Catholic family. He'd hit on me a bunch of times in school and he had a rep as a ladies man. A real love 'em and leave 'em type. I damn sure wasn't interested in being one of his conquests because the guy could be so damn annoying.

Brandon lived with his parents in a gated community north of town and had a fully paid-for BMW. Yeah, I know what you're thinking. I drove a used Hyundai though. I'd seen Brandon around town on occasion driving some girl or one of his buddies around. I'm guessing it was a graduation gift from his parents. His dad was in the investment business and his mother, ironically, was an attorney who specialized in defending white collar criminals.

I hated to do it, but I needed money. So, I swallowed my pride. Although I'd never been to his home, I knew Brandon had ordered from us before, and that's how I got his number.

The next day, my day off, I decided to call him. But I very well couldn't call him from home with my mom in the next room. So, under the pretext of wanting a Diet Pepsi, I told her I was going to the store. But instead, I pulled into the car wash, pulled out my mobile phone, and punched in Brandon's number. He seemed surprised I was calling him. After some chitchat, I put my plan into action.

"Brandon, remember how you used to hit on me all the time?" I asked. "And I know damn well you were staring at my ass."

He stammered and tried to explain, but I stopped him.

"Don't worry about it, Brandon. I'm flattered you admire my body. But for now, babe, all I want you to do is listen."

I took a deep breath and continued:

"I know you've had a thing for me for a long time. Well, big boy, I have a little proposition for you. See, I have needs, and right now I need

you

. You like my breasts? You like my curvy ass? I'm betting you fantasized about me completely naked while you jerked off, huh? Or maybe it was about me having sex with you? It's nothing to be ashamed of. You're human and you're a guy. Well, Brandon, you won't have to fantasize anymore. But I'm a lady who likes being appreciated. And when I'm appreciated, I'm appreciative in return.

Verrrry

appreciative. So, let's say for..."

I did a quick mental calculation. I thought that if I was going to whore myself out, I might as well make it worthwhile. But I wanted to be realistic. Unlike his parents, I wasn't going to be greedy. All I wanted was a little slice of the pie to help me get caught up financially.

I went on:

"Hmmm... five-hundred, I'll give you a couple of hours you'll never ever forget. You'll have this curvy little body of mine and all my talents all to yourself, Brandon. And I'm sure you'll find me a very talented woman."

He gulped loudly. And much to my surprise, I was getting a little turned on talking to him the way I was. I felt my pussy getting wet.

"O-okay, Rebecca!" he said nervously. "My mom and dad are in Chicago at some conference or something. They'll be gone the whole weekend."

I swear I could almost hear his erection.

"Oh, good! No one to interrupt us!" I gushed. "That's so perfect. Oh, and Brandon? Wait for me. I want it all for myself.

"Every last drop."

"W-when?" he asked, breathing hard.

"Oh... soon. I have to prepare myself," I replied. "Say eight? Oh, I know the wait will be hard, hun. But it will be worth it. I promise you that. Now, Brandon? All this needs to be our little secret understand?"

"Y-y-yeah. Sure, Rebecca," he replied.

"Oh, wonderful! I'll see you soon, sweetheart," I said. "Just take a shower and try to calm down."

"O-okay," he said. "Oh, crap! I forgot about the gate! I gotta buzz you in. The gate code is 4-5-1-1 and I live at 6780 St. Andrews Court."

I remembered that all the streets in the community he lived in were named for famous golf courses. So, of course, it made perfect sense that he lived on one named after the world's most famous one.

"4-5-1-1. 6780 St. Andrews Court. Got it. I'll be there soon, Brandon," I said as seductively as I could.

"Can't wait, baby!" exclaimed Brandon a bit shakily.

I pushed the END key and hung my head and groaned and wondered what the fuck I'd just gotten myself into. But then reality set in: being broke and in debt sucked. I drove home quickly and made an excuse to my mom that I was just there to take a quick shower and pick up my bikini because I was going swimming with some friends who invited me.

"What? In the middle of winter?" she asked puzzled.

"The Y, mom?" I replied impatiently. "Indoor pool?"

"Oh..." was all she said nodding her head.

I quickly showered and blowdried my hair. Then I ran to my bedroom and opened my closet and pulled out a duffle I'd last used at summer camp a long time ago. I picked out the tightest and most revealing clothing I had: a miniskirt, a pair of red thong panties, and a tiny red top and tossed them in the duffle. The top was actually a little snug on me now and I didn't wear it in public anymore because of the way it made my tits look. But for what I was doing, it was perfect. I also picked out my black high heeled shoes and tossed them in the duffle, too. I preferred sneakers, but they wouldn't have worked with the rest of the outfit. I suddenly remembered that I'd forgotten to ask if Brandon had condoms. But I had half a box stashed away. I tossed them in, too. And I grabbed a bikini, but I didn't put it in the duffle. I zipped it up and opened a window and threw it out. It landed in the snow with a crunchy thud. Then I pulled on my coat and ran to the door.

"Bye, mom! See you in a few hours!" I yelled as I ran past her carrying the bikini.

"Have fun, Rebecca! Be careful!" she yelled smiling.

"I will!" I replied.

I went to the side of the house and picked up the duffle and went to my car and sped the six or so miles to Brandon's neighborhood. I pulled off into a secluded spot in a new subdivision that was being built nearby and hopped in the back and quickly began changing. I hoped like hell the police didn't drive by. Believe me, changing in a Hyundai hatchback isn't easy, and I would've had a hell of a time explaining myself to a cop. But I managed it, and no cop ever showed. I decided not to wear my bra. A little makeup and a little perfume and a little teasing of my straight hair completed my transformation.