The Conversation Heart

I want to wish everyone a Happy Valentine's Day, or the spirit of said day any day of the year. Again, thanks for your feedback, public or private. It is appreciated. And as always, the same copyright rules apply. Kisses, YLA

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"Can you do anything else besides sit there and fucking stare off into space?" I snapped, hoisting another batch of bread into the oven. "I mean, come on, Matt. I'd like to go home some time today."

Matt, in his usually nonplussed way, merely placed one hand half-heartedly beneath the pan of uncooked bread dough and made a great show of sliding it onto the rack.

"I hate working with you," I declared, glancing at my watch to see that mercy had taken pity on my fragile state of mind. It was time for a break.

I stalked off to the staff room, throwing out my gloves and taking off my hair net. My pale blonde hair fell in sweaty tendrils around my face, and I already stank of flour, yeast, and that overwhelming stench of baked goods and doughnuts that I could never wash out of my clothes.

Purse in one hand, store brand coffee in the other, I stormed outside to have a cigarette, never mind the policy about smoking within so many feet of the building. If people couldn't handle it, they could go to the pharmacy and get their damn inhaler prescriptions filled. Such is the beauty of a mega grocery store with everything a person could need under one roof.

Here I was at five o'clock in the fucking morning, reeking of glazed doughnuts and growing more pissed about it by the minute. Student loans weren't my ideal solution for getting through college. I was already in over my head. The next available option had been finding another job. My mother was way too tight to offer any sort of help, so I found myself working at this goddamned bakery for the most minimum of wages.

It wouldn't have been so bad if I didn't get stuck working with Matt. He wasn't a dick. He just wasn't much of ... anything, really, even if I tried to be somewhat friendly and engaging. He had this blank blue gaze and looked as if his thoughts were elsewhere, no matter what he was supposed to be doing. And the most irritating part was that he still got all his work done on time. Muffins were baked, bread was sliced and bagged, and éclairs and bagels were appropriately packaged and put in the refrigerated glass display counter.

I, on the other hand, struggled carrying bulky dough, had a bitch of a time mastering the technique for filling jelly doughnuts, and grew to loathe my morning torture session with each passing day.

Cold February skies expanded their black embrace in all directions, broken up here and there by otherworldly orange parking lot lights. The sun hadn't even bothered to rise yet, which only reaffirmed that I'd be willing to do anything to go back to bed where I belonged. A scheduler of afternoon classes and hater of mornings overall, this had been the only interview that offered work on the spot. Now I found myself breaking my never-rise-before-the-sun rule six or seven days a week.

The glowing hands of my watch indicated with illuminated apathy that my small bit of freedom was over.

Accompanied by a gust of icy air, I returned to work to see Matt meticulously frosting heart-shaped sugar cookies with pale pink icing, then taking the time to create a tiny little white butter cream rose in the center of each. I couldn't take any more.

Without a word, I picked up supplies and joined him at the steel counter. After icing about fifteen cookies, I picked up another bag of white icing and fitted a fine tip. Eyes narrowed in concentration, I carefully wrote three words, using a knife to make nice clean tails on each letter. When I'd finished, I stepped back to survey my work, folding my arms over my ample bosom. Matt glanced my way, and immediately began to laugh.

"Fuck you, Matt," he read in that soft voice of his, his chuckles increasing to all out belly laughs. "Man, Tori. Your bitchiness never takes a day off. Not even on Valentine's Day." I had been steadfastly avoiding that fact, and his mention of it only served to inflame me more.

"I try not to think about today being Valentine's Day, because I'm spending it here doing this shitty job with you instead of home in bed eating chocolates and ringing up a fuck buddy for some fun."

Matt took one cautious step toward me; the silence around us decreasing as more employees filed in for shift changes and the elderly shoppers began to arrive.

"Come here." Matt smiled, gesturing toward the break room and supply room. I glared at him.

"Why?"

"I've got to get more flour and need some help since it's up kind of high."

"Oh." I relaxed. But something in his eyes sparkled. Some bit of mischief that I had incited with my blossoming pastry design.

I followed him into the pantry and past some freestanding shelves to the ones in the back where the flour was kept. And like a flash, he turned, capturing my wrists and dragging me back behind a pallet heaped high with canned fruit.

"I also had something to give you." Matt's eyes were positively glowing with naughtiness as he reached into his jeans pocket and withdrew a prescription bottle, handing it to me. I read the label. Xanax? "How do you think I stand putting up with such a raging bitch every morning? I scored this at a pharm party last month. But it cost me some of my better stock.

"You know what you need, Tori?" Matt's calm façade was gone, replaced by genuine honesty. "You need one of these and a good fuck. I bet you have to get your fuck buddies drunk just so they can put up with that mouth. But it's Valentine's Day, and I'll do you just to see you smile."

Discarding his plastic gloves, he pulled aside his apron to yank down his zipper. His fingers disappeared into the steel lined pocket for a second, and then he pulled out a very large and erect cock.

"Matt..." I was shocked. One of my hands still clutched the prescription bottle, the other fluttering weakly in mid-air. Without a word, Matt took it, pulled off my glove, and wrapped my shaking fingertips around his fat shaft. I tried to flinch. Wanted to pull my hand away. But there's something so primal about touching another's genitals. Something fixed and sure, like the earth's rotation around the sun. You can't stop it, even if you tried.

"Matt—" I gasped seconds before his mouth met mine. He tasted like raspberry doughnut filling, and I discovered that maybe he wasn't as law abiding and upright as I'd perceived. Theft of any store property wasn't taken lightly, even if it was a fucking doughnut.

Leaning closer to me, he reached out to shove my apron aside. I felt a soft thump as his erect cock fell against my abdomen, his hands working on my slacks.

What the fuck am I doing?! I can't have sex in the fucking pantry with Matt! He's weird, creepy, and obviously repressed. But he was also good with his hands. His fingertips dove down the front of my thong panties to tease and excite my sticky folds. In an instant, he found and rubbed my clit, and I moaned through our delicious kiss.

We cleaved together like a couple of fruit flies desperate for one last coital kick before we either died or were squished. And when he got my panties down and edged between my thighs, I broke the kiss to cast a cautious stare through the open door. Thankfully, we were well-hidden and this time of day, things were slow in our department.

"Mmmm..." Matt's cock pushed slowly inside my juicy slit, and I gasped in pleasure and surprise.

"I can't believe you..." I panted as his hips slammed me back against the wall, my hair falling free as the net slid askew. "My God ... your cock is huge..."

I churned my hips with his, sweat breaking out on my brow as I dropped the Xanax into my apron and gripped his shoulders, his cock stabbing against my womb and his hips slamming against my thighs. It was shocking. Amazing. Impossibly hot.

"Damn you..." I hissed. My cunt clenched his cock and squeezed out every delicious drip of precome that I could as I came, falling forward to bite his shoulder.

"Shut up." Matt grunted, pulling my face toward his and kissing me as his cock throbbed and shot a hot burst of come inside me, his lips pressed to mine. Our breaths slowed, and he pulled out of me, my pussy making a wet sucking sound as he left it.

Never one to turn down fairly safe drugs, I opened the bottle and fished out a pill to pocket furtively, tossing the bottle back to Matt, who had found a roll of paper towels and hastily cleaned himself before righting his pants. Somehow, I didn't think I'd need the pill after all.

Back in the kitchen, he washed his hands, grabbed a new pair of gloves, and went back to work. I stood patiently behind him as he washed, waiting my turn and fixing my hair. When I was through, I slipped into more gloves, watching him work on the cookies.

Making it back to my station beside him, my cheeks were flaming. Now I was the one who couldn't look at him. I did manage enough of a glance to see he was smiling from ear to ear as he worked. Then my gaze fell to the last cookie I'd decorated before our tryst.

Carefully, while I had been washing my hands, he had peeled off the 'you' from 'Fuck You Matt' and replaced it with 'by.'

"Happy Valentine's Day. Now you've got no excuse to be a bitch." Matt smirked from over my shoulder, once again as cool and detached as before.

End