This was the part of her job that really freaked her out. She took a short, deep breath, held it in and puffed out. No need to be nervous. She rang the doorbell. The blinds shifted and she turned and looked beyond the vast open field and into the sky, pretending not to notice. The door clicked open. Cheap door, she thought.
"Hey, how are you?" Always on the job, she hadn't even glanced at the customer and really didn't care how they were, as long as the transaction went smoothly and she could get the hell out of dodge.
"Fine, and you?" Obligatory eye-contact. Holy Fuck! Clinch - none of that - oh my.
"I'm great," She handed him the receipt and a pen, waiting patiently. He placed the receipt on the pizza box that she was holding and scribbled a line. She'd never thought to admire a guy's hands and fingernails. First time for everything.
Why it was that these customers took the "thirty minute wait" line so literally that they felt they could get in and out of the shower before the pizza came, was beyond her - but this time she wasn't complaining.
His hair was wet so she couldn't quite tell if it was blonde or brown, and the dim lighting wouldn't allow her to figure out by looking at the stubble on his face. Though with his striking green eyes, she'd say that it would be unfair for him to have blonde hair, too. No one was that beautiful. The guy was the stuff cheap novels were made of. She imagined handing him the pizza and dropping her pants and panties. She imagined blatantly fingering her sex in front of him.
He still wouldn't fuck her.
Not even with her pussy served up on his pizza platter.
She took the signed receipt he handed her.
"Thank you," she sing-songed automatically, a poor habit she couldn't break even when old ladies stared at her like they wanted to slap her for being insulting and condescending. She still hadn't gotten used to this job.
