Not My Day
By Handymanblues
(The following is the story of my sister falling in love with some neighbour. Not sure I agree with her idea of how to trap some unsuspecting super hunk into marriage, but I guess it is whatever floats her boat. She gleefully asked me to tell her story, word for word, and who am I to disappoint her. So here it is, the true story of how things unfolded, on a day that was 'not her day.' This is her story.)
It was not my day.
The wind was picking up, blowing my hat down the street, ensuring I would never see it again. It also ensured that my hair would be blowing every which way.
To make matters worse, it was starting to drizzle. That could mean only one thing. My hair was going to get frizzy.
Cross town traffic was incredibly boisterous today, and my bicycle had a hard time zipping in and out of honking car lanes.
A splotch of white bird shit came next, landing on my shoulder, and instantly stained my brand new silk blouse. That was what usually happened when one invertedly forgot their spring jacket.
"Fuck."
Gilmour's Department Store was now in view, and my ten dollar an hour job was about to start.
I reached the parking lot and wound my way to the bike stands. Then I dismounted, leaning my bike against the steel circle and lashing it with my steel chain lock.
I checked my watch. At first I thought it was just stopped from a lack of winding, but quickly realized, after trying to start it, that it was broken.
"Fuck."
I moved quickly. One thing I didn't want to do was be late again. I already had two punctuality write ups against me, and a third would mean a reprimand and one day's suspension.
I reached the swipe in clock with two minutes to spare, and punched in my code, then my thumb print. It flashed green. I had made it.
I hopped on the escalator and rode it to the third floor, where my eyes were greeted by some naked male mannequins. Obviously, Germaine my boss was going to want me to dress them with something sharp from the new spring line.
I scoured the men's wear department for any sign of him, but he was not around. I knew it was Tuesday and remembered he often had meetings with the other Department heads on Tuesday mornings. I suddenly felt a reprieve. Such meetings could sometimes last for an hour or two, which meant I wouldn't have to put up with his annoying bullshit for at least until first break.
"Karen."
The sound of my name being called so unexpectedly, especially by an unknown voice, gave me a jolt. I bristled and placed a frightened hand against my generous cleavage. Then I turned around.
It was Henry, Germaine's assistant. Usually he was over in sporting goods. But I supposed he was merely covering for Germaine, although he'd never done it before. I'd only spoken to him once or twice in the past, but some of the other girls told me he was a real prick, an asshole just like his boss.
"You startled me," I whispered, catching my breath.
"I know I usually don't come over to this side," he clarified, "but I noticed you on the escalator."
"You're not supposed to be gawking at my ass on store time," I spat out, almost venomously. I didn't want to have any kind of relationship with any of the men in the store. They were all full of themselves and real absolute bastards.
"Don't flatter yourself," he said, his face reddening. "I came over to talk to you because I saw that you were not in uniform."
My face now reddened just like his. "Girls on this floor don't wear a uniform. That's only for the other floors."
"I'm not talking about an apron with the store logo," he said. "Store policy says a worker is considered out of uniform if he or she is not wearing their name tag."
A sigh of despair rummaged through my mind. I had forgotten my stupid nametag at home. I knew I would have to come down off my high horse and almost beg for mercy. He had a right to write me up if he wanted. I tried to quickly humble myself.
"Oh, I'm sorry about that," I managed, trying to sound contrite. "I'll remember to bring it tomorrow. Promise."
"Okay then," he said, accepting my self imposed debasement. "I'll let it go this time, although Germaine will probably yell at you when he notices. Although, you did manage to put on a huge splotch of bird shit down the front of your blouse. So it's not like you're not wearing anything there."
His words were like rusty daggers, plunging their tainted sharpness deep within my soul. I had forgotten to clean off the bird shit. That meant everyone had undoubtedly already seen it.
His cell phone went off. He glanced at the number and acted alarmed.
"Shit, the store manager. What the fuck is it this time?"
He forgot I was there and turned around abruptly, heading back towards the escalator.
I was now in a full blown panic. That giant splotch of bright white bird shit was wreaking havoc against my brand new dark brown silk blouse.
I turned and made a b-line for the dressing rooms. At least there I could have a place to clean up.
I found a half bottle of water on the counter along with some paper towel. I quickly took it to a dressing room and locked the door behind me. Thankfully, it had a full length mirror.
I wet the towels and began gently wiping the shit. Gratefully, it came off easily, but brushing against my breast felt strange. My boobs felt tender to the touch.
I pulled down my top, glancing at my pointy firm boobs. The nipples seemed swollen and my breasts felt tingly and engorged. I could never remember them being like that before.
A thought came to my mind, and then a sense of worry tried to descend like a cloud. I chased the thought away. No way I was pregnant.
"No fucking way."
I pulled up my skirt and pulled down my panties. Then I checked the tampon I had inserted last night. My period was supposed to have started during the night but there was no spotting. Still as white as the driven snow. Half a day late. My mind raced in circles? Had I ever been late before?
"No...never before."
I sucked in my breath and could feel a panic attack set in.
I was dazed and flush...speechless for sure, but still trying to be optimistic. In my heart of hearts I knew I'd rather be dead than pregnant. At the tender age of eighteen, I'd been having sex about once a month since my birthday, a mere five months in total. Each time it had been a different guy, usually during a party. And during those five times, I'd always been so absolutely careful. Condoms all the way. Every time. EVERY FUCKING TIME!!!!
"Except-"
My mind was awash with vivid memories of my next door neighbor Todd. He had come by two weeks ago asking to borrow some milk for his cereal, and I had lent him some. But when he returned a few hours later with the jug, he handed me a bottle of wine as a thank you present.
And so I had invited him in for a chat and some of his wine. I also had wanted him to fix a leaky sink. What the fuck do women know about fixing leaky sinks?
The wine had started going to my head, one thing lead to another and before you knew it...
He had sworn to me, in the heat of passion, that he'd remember to pull out on time.
I pursed my lips and remembered it like it was yesterday. My multiple orgasms, his fabulous lips sucking on my enraptured breasts...my soaking pussy on fire with pleasure...and after a half hour of riveting thrusts...his tell-tale grunting, leading to him pulling out as promised and then half a minute later delivering the goods onto my bliss filled ass.
No he hadn't gotten any inside when he came...so maybe...just maybe...in the pre-cum?
"No, I'm not pregnant...definitely not pregnant."
I began to repeat the words over and over. But the strange sensation of my engorged breasts, and such unusual tenderness in my swollen, reddened nipples. And the tell tale lateness of my usually "right on time" period, all conspiring...all conspiring to...to...
I came back to my senses then made sure the bird shit was completely off my blouse. Then I gave a final glance in the mirror. "You'd better not be," I whispered at myself.
And then I straightened my clothes and noted that I needed to take a pee. Suddenly I remembered how it had puzzled me the last few days that I seemed to be urinating more often, not able to hold it as long as I usually did. Wasn't that also a sign of being knocked up?
I was suddenly in a full blown panic and I began to mumble, almost incoherently.
"Oh fuck...oh fuck...oh fuck!"
The changing room door made a sound as if someone was tugging at it, trying to open it.
I took a deep breath and slid open the latch, pushing the door open and moving out onto the salesfloor, taking my suspiciously engorged breasts with me.
Chapter Two
It took what seemed like forever for the crazy day to end. Mercifully, my putrid boss, Germaine, was stuck in meetings the whole day. I wasn't sure why the meetings had lasted so long, only that a rumour was floating about that possible hour reductions and even layoffs were in the offing. I prayed it wasn't true. As much as I hated my fucking job, I needed it to keep my rent going and food on my table.
I emerged from the store at the end of my shift feeling like some paroled prisoner from some dysfunctional jail house.
It was still drizzling outside, which meant my hair was going to get frizzy all over again.
I reached the bike rack and was both shocked and dismayed that my bike had been stolen. The only thing remaining was the unopened lock on the iron ring, and some busted wheel spokes on the ground.
I felt like crying, but knew I might have bigger problems, and I promised myself that if I were going to cry tears then it would surely be over the fact my period had still not come.
The long walk home took me a full half hour, and I was literally soaked through to the bone. I hadn't expected I would need to take the bus home, and therefore had not brought any bus tickets with me.
I shivered as I climbed the stairwell to the fifth floor. Third day in a row that the elevator wasn't working.
I wasn't surprised to see Todd standing there as I approached my door. The newspapers were usually delivered throughout the building at this time, and he had told me he was checking every day to try and find a job. He was one of those poor saps that had borrowed over sixty grand to get a four year BA from a top college, only to find he couldn't beg, borrow or even steal a job even if his life depended on it.
