Cream Filled

As a full-time student at the state university's city campus, I've found a part-time job to supplement my student loan and make ends meet. Nothing unusual about that, quite a few of my classmates work at least one job; but when I tell people the job is in a donut shop, they'll invariably smile and tell me I'm lucky. I agree with them about being lucky but not for the reasons they think.

Still I'll ask them how so and they'll reply that they love the scents of vanilla and chocolate; of donuts baking and freshly-ground coffee brewing. How they enjoy looking through the display cases at the variety of treats and how doing so all makes their final choice of a donut or pastry taste that much better. I never tell them that while all these are enticing to the senses, the best any of them can claim from me is second place. There are no delights the shop has to offer the eyes, nose or palate as tempting to me as those of Stephanie, the owner's daughter, a waitress at the shop and my frequent co-worker.

The Donut King is owned by a Greek man with a multi-syllabic and difficult to pronounce last name that everyone just calls Mr. Nick. He and his wife, Athena, are nice enough people, hard working and frugal, the kind you have to admire. They have been great about letting me work around my class schedule and I have been dependable in return; they trust me even to open or close the store in a pinch.

The Donut King's house specialty is cream filled donuts. They are known across the city and people go out of their way to get them. The homemade cream filling, fairly bursting thick and sweet from each donut is the reason we can't seem to make them fast enough to meet demand some days.

At nineteen, Stephanie is a year younger than me. The problem is, each morning when she passes close by me I can't help but stop and gaze at her. The spice of her perfume, the sweet fruit scent of her hair and the vanilla mint of her freshly soaped skin cause my eyes and mind to quickly stray from work and fasten on to her for the rest of the day. Sometimes just a glance from her dark eyes arouses such an aching desire in me that I have to endure tortuous long hours until my shift ends. Then I can finally hurry home to relieve myself in the bathroom sink.

You see with my class and work schedules what they are; I don't have time to even meet a girl, let alone date. I know my situation is only temporary, just until graduation. It's just that when Stephanie is around graduation seems an eternity away and rest assured that she is no angel. I've long had the suspicion that she is aware of the effect she has on me and I don't doubt for a moment that she would find tormenting me amusing.

Stephanie runs the cash register and serves customers at the long counter and several booths in the store. I have seen her counting her tips at the end of a shift and some days the stack of bills and pile of change she has collected are impressive. Unfortunately for her I sometimes fall behind on filling donuts simply because I am distracted by her presence. If customers have to wait for donuts, they don't leave quickly enough or else they just leave without ordering, both of which cost her in tips.

It's at peak times like those that Stephanie's parents can become exasperated and yell in an almost comical mix of English and Greek. They are never insulting or hurtful but Stephanie is prone to explosively venomous rages that are often directed at her fellow employees. Coming from someone as bright and articulate as her those outbursts are especially shocking and her bilingual arsenal of swear words would impress the most hardened of men. I keep expecting it to happen but surprisingly she has yet to turn that sharpened tongue on me.

Of course she saves all the nastiness for the kitchen out of earshot of the customers who all think she is an angel, making a point of telling her how beautiful she is while over tipping for her service. The fact that she doesn't fasten the top two snaps of her uniform doesn't hurt either. Stephanie always wears a small cross on a chain of silver that guides your eyes unerringly to the creamy swells of her breasts.

Yes, not only are Stephanie's scents bewitching, so is the rest of her. She has licorice dark eyes and is tall but slender. Her lustrous black hair falls in natural waves past her shoulders. With exotic skin tones inherited from her Mediterranean ancestors, enthralling breasts and an ass to kill or die for, she fills out her waitress uniform in mesmerizing ways.

I love to watch the way her delectable butt moves, the sweet muscles proudly tensing and releasing as she struts. It is unending but delicious torment to know that only a couple of thin layers of cloth keep my eyes from the prize; a torment especially cruel when she wears a thong.

I think it is an even worse pain to not be around her. When one of us has the day off I must rely solely on memories of her and her hypnotic ass; the apron strings tied just above and the hem of her uniform not too far below, I easily imagine it a framed artwork. The rest of my day is filled pondering the delights of those orbs and the cleft between them that her uniform just can't quite seem to conceal.

Many times I've had to endure unrelieved agony while watching Stephanie move through the kitchen while I squeeze saccharine sweet smelling cream from a pastry bag into one end of a donut until both I and the donut are at the bursting point.

Each time I get some cream on me, I immediately have this mental image of Stephanie raising my hand to her glossed and glistening lips.

"Let me get that for you, Jeff," she'd offer in a seductive tone.

Then she would gently suck the tips of my fingers into her mouth and lave them with her tongue until she'd gotten it all; her dark eyes gleaming as she enjoyed my distress.

Unfortunately, Stephanie has always seemed out of reach, having had a boyfriend the whole two years I have worked at the Donut King. Like her, he is Greek and from a well off family so everyone assumed they would marry after college. Me, I thought Stephanie was too smart and worldly in her own way to be satisfied with him for long; he seemed utterly content just to acquire speeding tickets in the sports car his parents bought him and spend their money.

He must have agreed with me for to everyone else's surprise he broke it off with her one night. The next morning she was in an especially rare mood, announcing the breakup to everyone on her arrival at work. When her mom asked why he broke up with her she responded, "Because he's an ASSHOLE!" effectively ending the conversation.

Ray, the old guy who washes dishes and sweeps the floors, speculated it was because she wouldn't let him fuck her. Somehow I doubted it. The way she dresses and moves, the way she looks at guys all suggest otherwise. In fact, if there was one thing about her I felt I could be certain of, it is her animal-like sexuality, the kind that demands frequent feeding but is seldom sated.

"That's the girl's whole problem if you ask me," he said poking the air between us with a gnarled old finger. "She just needs a good stiff one. Before my wife passed on, I used to always be able to tell when she needed fuckin'. She'd yell or cry without any good reason 'til I'd take her in the bedroom and fuck the hell out of her. Then I'd know I'd be in for a few days of peace and good cooking until we started it all over again."

"I'll keep that in mind Ray, in case I ever get married," I said.

"Say Jeff" he said, nodding his head toward the door to the dining area. "Maybe this is your chance."

"What, me and Stephanie?"

"Sure. It'd solve both our problems," he said. "You might get laid and then she'd quit breaking my balls."

"I'll think about it, Ray."

Thinking it over, it wasn't such a bad idea. My social life was nonexistent with my class and work schedules what they are and while I may not be the best looking guy in town, I'm no eyesore either and there was no denying my attraction to her. Waiting a few days until she finally calmed down some, I told her I was sorry about her breakup.

"I guess he really is an asshole," I said.

"Why do you say that?" she asked.

"He has to be," I said, pausing to look her in the eyes, "there couldn't be any other reason to break up with you."

Her eyes locked into mine for a moment and she gave me a part quizzical look as if she was re-evaluating me.

"Thanks," she said with a half smile.

After that we flirted somewhat, as I tried to gauge Stephanie's potential interest in me. Was it my imagination or wishful thinking that she seemed to bump into me or brush against me with increasing frequency?

Of course, it was not a large kitchen and when things were busy, it was easy to run into people. Stephanie would often stop me in my tracks with just a touch of her hand on my arm or back, and then pass so closely that I could smell her powdery deodorant and the salty tang of her sweat as she brushed cat-like by me. I stayed frozen until she was gone except for the part of me that I hoped my apron hid.

Did she sense my eyes caressing her? Was Stephanie toying with, teasing or encouraging me? Was her game just to see how hot she could get me? Why else would she bend from the waist to reach something on one of the low shelves in the kitchen? Her glorious ass always seemed aimed toward me then, the thin material of her uniform stretched teasingly taut across it.

When Stephanie needed something off one of the high shelves near me why didn't she just ask me to get it like she always used to? Instead she reached for it herself, all the tender muscles of her body tensing as she stood on tip toe. As she was right next to me, I couldn't help but see down the top of her uniform to the light sheen of perspiration glistening where Stephanie's breasts swelled above her bra. I thought I saw her look out the corners of her eyes at me. Had she seen where mine had been? I couldn't tell from her enigmatic smile.

If this was a game it couldn't continue much longer. I had to have her or get over her somehow. I waited hoping to sense the right moment to politely ask her for a date. When her parents left on vacation this week to attend a wedding and visit with relatives in Greece, I knew the time was finally right.

Mr. Nick had wanted to close up for the two weeks the family would be gone. Instead Stephanie insisted on staying. Like me, she takes classes in summer and told them she couldn't miss the time. Everything would be fine with her running the place, she assured them. Besides, she added, Jeff will be here as well to "keep an eye on things." Finally persuaded, Nick and Athena left Saturday morning.

Sunday morning I was to show up for my shift at 4:30 as usual so we could open by 5. I was awakened not by my alarm but by a loud thunderclap and a down pouring of rain as a front stalled over the city. Still, leaving for work I hadn't worn a coat as the rain had eased some by the time I got in my car but it began falling even harder than before as I drove.

Employees are supposed to park away from the front of the store to save space for customers. I complied with the rule despite the storm but by the time I made it from my car to the front door, I was saturated. I don't think it would have mattered where I parked, I would have gotten soaked had I parked right in front as hard as it was raining.

It was obvious from the unlit interior of the shop that I was the first to arrive. Assuming Stephanie was probably late in arriving due to the storm and having proved myself trusty enough to have a key and the alarm code, I let myself in jangling the bells over the front door as it opened, then turned on the lights. I wasn't too concerned about Stephanie's tardiness. Sunday mornings were usually slow until the church services let out later on. She would have ample time to get the cash register set up.

First thing, I ground some coffee beans and started a pot brewing. The shop was soon filled with what I consider the second most delectable scent to be enjoyed there. After that I went about firing up the rest of the equipment, figuring there was plenty of time yet to start the first batch of donuts with the weather what it was. Besides, while Mr. Nick wouldn't have approved, we had enough leftovers to start off with. I just pulled the plastic wrap off a few of the sticky sweet trays and stuck them in the display cases.

The first pot of coffee was finished by the time I was done with the trays and I poured myself a cup of the steaming liquid, each sip warming me from mouth to stomach. Whether it was the storm, caffeine, my jitters about asking Stephanie out or all of them, my senses were now keenly awake. Alerted by the front door bells I walked to the swinging doors, peering through the Plexiglas window in time to see Stephanie arrive.

Naturally the employee parking rule didn't apply in her mind and she parked as close as she could to the front door. The rain was falling even harder than before and like me she hadn't worn a coat so by the time she reached the door Stephanie was soaked to the skin. She didn't bother to relock the door behind her but stepped quickly toward the kitchen.

I backed away and watched as she came through the double doors. Her thick, ebony hair had matted on her head. Water dripped from it and ran down her face. Some trickled, glistening in the fluorescent light while following the gentle curves of her neck downward. Droplets sparkled like jewels on her breasts.

Her already form hugging uniform had soaked all the way through. The wet fabric clung tightly to every curve of her body and revealed more than it hid. My eyes explored eagerly as they moved down her ripened form.

Her nipples were chocolate dark and hard. They perfectly topped the swell of her proud breasts. My eyes continued to trace her contours which curved inward at the waist then gently out again to her hips. Even her mound was unmistakably outlined by her clinging wet uniform. She hadn't worn hose today and I wanted to lick off every drop of the rainwater that glazed the tender flesh of her legs. I wanted to lick each drop from every inch of her body.

My plan to politely ask her out had dissolved. It dripped away with the rain from her tempting body.

"Fuck ME!" she shouted as she wrung her arms and stamped her feet, flinging water from herself as she did so.

"You're certainly wet enough for it aren't you?" I said.

"What's gotten into you?" she asked with a laughing snort and gave me a sidelong look.

"You have," I answered directly.

Looking at her as she stood before me dripping wet like Venus emerging from the sea, I knew there was no turning back. Instead I squared my shoulders as I faced her.

"Stephanie, I'm not going to tell you that you're beautiful because I know you hear that all the time."

"Then what are you going to tell me, Jeff?" she asked,

"Just that you look...so...fucking...sexy," I said plainly.

"Oh yeah?" she replied, suddenly calm and still.

"I've wanted you badly for some time Stephanie," I explained. "But I've never wanted you more than right now."

"My dad would kill you if he heard you talking like this to me," she said softly, her midnight dark eyes on mine.

I wasn't sure from her tone if she was giving me a warning or a dare.

"I promise not to tell him," I gambled. "The question is will you?"

She didn't move but the corners of her mouth flirted with a smile. Taking a slow step toward her but never taking my eyes from hers I drew a deep slow breath as I neared Stephanie's heady mix of scents that her rain-wet skin and uniform seemed to magnify.

Unable to take it any longer and not caring if I got fired or if her dad did try to kill me, I moved toward her fearing only her rejection. A single small step separated us now and leaning in slowly toward her until our lips touched, I kissed her as the rain drummed furiously on the roof.

Stephanie raised her hands, the palms flat against my chest. For a second I tensed, anticipating she would push me away. Instead she grabbed the wet cloth of my shirt and balled her hands into fists gripping it tightly. My kiss became her kiss as her tongue pushed past my lips and into my mouth finding mine. I tasted her lip gloss. There were hints of coffee and mouthwash but I couldn't tell if they were they from my mouth or hers.

Wrapping my arms about her I pulled Stephanie in tight to my chest. The exposed wet skin on our arms had goose-fleshed but there was sudden warmth where our bodies met. The kissing became more fervent and the slow friction of our hands moving over each other built the heat between us.

I released her from my embrace to gently squeeze her supple breasts, pinching her hardened nipples right through her soggy clothing. She gripped me at the waist and pulled my hips closer to hers.

"I was beginning to wonder if you were ever going to make a move," she said.

In reply I worked a few fingers of each hand into an opening between snaps on the front of her uniform. With an urgent jerk of my arms, it parted and slid down her into a sloppy lump on the floor. Stephanie broke our kiss momentarily as she stepped out of the wet pile. She stood there in her sheer bra, patterned panties and tennis shoes. Her ebony eyes watched mine as they took in and caressed her body. Her hard, dark nipples threatened to poke holes in her bra while the black thatch of pubic hair above her pussy was plainly visible through her thin, clinging panties.

Stephanie reached behind herself to unhook her bra then swiftly shrugged it from her shoulders. Bending for her now spectacularly free breasts, I ran the flat of my tongue like a butter brush across the delicious rise of one, sucking the pebble hard nipple and as much of the surrounding flesh into my mouth as I could. Slowly it escaped from me as I fought gravity to hold onto her succulence as long as possible. My lips squeezed it as my tongue swirled about and I sucked hard until finally it pulled free. The vanilla and mint scent from her skin filling my lungs with every breath. Repeating the process on her other breast I then stood straight to hungrily find her mouth again.

As we kissed Stephanie gave a soft moan that vibrated through me. She sucked on my tongue while my hands slid down her back and into her panties, each of them kneading a cheek of that glorious ass. All the while my cock strained painfully against the confinement of my soggy pants.

I cupped the backs of her legs below her butt and lifted her so that her head was above mine. Stephanie continued to attack my mouth with her tongue. Her wet hair, suffused with the aromas of exotic fruits, fell across both our faces and I could feel it cling coolly to my neck. Walking us over I eased her down until she sat on the edge of the old wood table that served as my work area.

"I want to lick your pussy," I said breathing faster now.

"Good 'cause I need you to," she answered, nearly panting herself.

I guided her shoulders back with my hands until Stephanie was propped on her elbows. She smiled and eagerly raised her hips letting me pull her wet panties free in one quick motion.

Pressing her knees outward and kneeling before Stephanie like a supplicant at the altar of a goddess, I inhaled deeply the scent of her rapidly heating pussy. She was shaved smooth about the wine colored lips leaving only a neatly trimmed patch above. Leaning closer to her until the jet black pubic hair tickled the tip of my nose, once more I filled my lungs with her musk. The blood that rushed to my cock was now near to boiling.

Maybe it was something primitive in her animal scent or in me that turned me ravenous but I quickly parted the lips of her pussy with my tongue, running it from the bottom of her sweet slit to the top. Sucking her clit gently into my mouth then teasing it with the tip of my tongue, I heard Stephanie gave another sigh and a "Fuck yeah" under her breath as I worked that precious nub.