Restaurant--Holland's

This story has been posted to Literotica.Com with the full knowledge of the original author, JimBob44. No part or whole of this story may be reprinted in any other format or on any other web site without the express written consent of the original author.

Author's Note: Any and all persons engaging in any sexual activity are at least eighteen years of age.

Disclaimers: This story has been edited by myself, utilizing Microsoft Spell-check. You have been forewarned; expect to find mistakes.

Also, if female bisexuality offends you, please hit your backspace key now and find another one of JimBob44's excellent tales to read.

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The cute blonde let out another little giggle as she carefully, meticulously wiped down the inside glass of the display case. Her ankle-length blonde hair was gathered up in the loose hairnet and her round face was devoid of any makeup. But the girl's beauty was unmistakable.

Ernst watched the girl's large breasts stretch the front of her Holland's Hand Cranked Ice Cream uniform blouse. She wore a long sleeved thermal shirt underneath the uniform blouse as well as an industrial strength bra, but those mammaries were hard to disguise. Her shapeless slacks also could not hide her sweetly rounded buttocks as she bent and stretched and Ernst admired her buttocks while she worked.

Ernst looked around at the brightly lighted ice cream shop. There were several small tables and gaily colored patted stools scattered around the small shop. Thirteen years earlier, Ernst Von Anders had been working for Dennis Finch as an insurance salesman and had hated every minute of it. Coming home to his twenty two year old wife, the thirty four year old man told Sylvia he was sick and tired of working for her father, wanted to be his own boss. Sylvia dipped into the trust fund her maternal grandfather had left her and financed the ice cream shop.

"Hi! Welcome to Holland's," Birdie smiled widely as three giggling teenaged girls entered the shop.

Birdie slipped the plastic gloves onto her hands then cheerfully made each girl's order. Dropping the gloves into the wastebasket underneath the counter, she rang up the two cones and one cup. She counted out the change and thanked the girls for coming in.

In truth, Ernst had made more money working for his father in law, but he was infinitely happier working for himself. Still laughing and squealing, the girls left the shop and Ernst watched their delectable rear ends as they walked to the bench just outside of the door.

"Okay, okay, what are you giggling about?" Ernst smiled as Birdie giggled to herself yet again.

"Oh, we went to my parents' house yesterday after church?" Birdie said. "And we had Sunday dinner? Oh, oh! Tommy's parents were there too? And my Dad? He told us the funniest joke ever!" Birdie enthused.

As beautiful as the girl was, especially when she took her long straw colored hair out of the net, Ernst did find her habit of ending every sentence as if it was a question to be extremely annoying. Other than that, in the two months she'd been working for him, she'd been a conscientious, punctual employee. She treated each customer with a genuine smile. Ernst decided he could overlook her speech deficiency; at least for now.

"Well? Going to keep us all in suspense?" Ernst prompted.

"Okay, okay, you know how physicists are really, super smart people?" Birdie enthused.

"Yes, yes," Ernst said, quickly tiring of the conversation already.

"Well, how do physicists like to sleep?" Birdie asked, brown eyes dancing.

"I give up," Ernst said.

"With their eyes closed!" Birdie squealed happily then burst into laughter.

"Oh. God," Ernst groaned.

Throughout the evening, Ernst did find occasion to gently touch the girl. Nothing inappropriate, just gentle brushes of her hand, her covered forearm, her back; that area between bra-strap and waistband, or her shoulder. Birdie accepted the touches, never once giving Ernst a disapproving glance.

At nine o'clock, they closed the shop. Birdie glanced through the plate glass window and sighed. She then worked her cell phone out of the pocket of her uniform slacks and sent her husband a text. Ushering the girl out of the shop with a gentle push to her lower back, hand close to her delectable rear, Ernst set the alarm and stepped outside. The parking lot in the strip mall had only three other cars and there was no light in front of the shop.

"He'll be here; he was sleeping," Birdie said, reading her husband's response.

"Well, I can't leave you out here by yourself," Ernst said, angered at Birdie's husband's thoughtlessness.

Sitting on the old-fashioned park bench in front of the shop, Birdie chattered nonstop. She told Ernst all about her family; August Lark and Robin Lark had three children. Skye Lark was Birdie's older sister and Falcon Lark was Birdie's younger brother.

"Skye, Birdie and Falcon, eh?" Ernst smirked, casually resting a hand on Birdie's leg, close to her knee.

"Uh huh," Birdie said, then continued her rambling monologue.

They'd belonged to the Church of Golgotha while it had been under the guidance of the Reverend James McCall. When Reverend McCall had been defrocked and defamed, The Lark Family had been shocked and disheartened. When James McCall had begun the Holy Church of Bethlehem, the Lark family had joined his new church.

"You believe that?" Ernst pressed when Birdie said the Reverend McCall had claimed Satan had been behind his downfall from the Church of Golgotha.

"I, I don't know," Birdie confessed, then brightened as a rust bucket in need of a tune up came clattering into the parking lot. "Here he is. You ever meet my husband?"

While they waited for the car to make its way to the front of Holland's Hand Cranked Ice Cream storefront, Birdie thanked Ernst for waiting with her. Happily, she introduced Tommy Smith to Ernst Von Anders. The two men were polite to one another but there was no warmth as they exchanged greetings.

Ernst watched the oil-burning car make its loud way from the parking lot. With one last tug on the door handle, he walked to his Toyota Tundra and got into the truck.

Thinking of the sweet girl, her large breasts and firm ass, Ernst developed the beginnings of an erection. He drove to the Court Building and parked next to his wife's Mercedes-Benz SUV.

Entering Unit 703, Ernst made his beautiful wife squeal in surprise, then laugh gleefully as he lifted her and carried her to their bedroom in a fireman's carry. He threw her onto their large bed and hoisted her skirt up. With a savage tug, Ernst ripped the silk panties from her hips and dove between her legs, sucking and slurping at her bald mound.

"Ernst, what, what has gotten into you?" Sylvia laughed, then groaned as he nipped at her clitoris.

While Ernst was licking and fingering his wife to orgasm, Birdie was tiredly preparing a dinner for her husband. She did this chore without complaint; the husband was the head of the household and the wife was to serve the head of the household. She did think that, since he'd been off of work since five thirty that he should have opened his own can of vegetable soup, fried his own fried cheese sandwich. The empty bag of potato chips and the two candy bar wrappers were still on the coffee table as were the two juice boxes he'd consumed while he waited for her to get home. After serving him his dinner, she cleaned up his mess.

"Not going eat?" Tommy asked, scratching at a pimple.

"No. I brought my dinner with me to work," Birdie reminded him as she hefted the full garbage bag from the kitchen wastebasket. "I ate at seven."

After her shower, Birdie pulled on her flannel nightgown and entered their bedroom. She fought down her sigh; Tommy was laying on their twin bed waiting for her.

Laying down, Birdie hefted the hem of her nightgown to her navel and steeled herself. Tommy groped her chest through her nightgown, then rubbed her dry slit until he felt moisture. Then he jammed his cock into her, pumped a few times and ejaculated into her.

Despite his plethora of acne, Tommy Smith was cute. He had thick brown hair, warm brown eyes and a playful smile. At five feet and five inches, he was not much taller than Birdie, but he did weigh a good thirty, forty pounds more than his wife.

Birdie had been pleased, flustered but pleased when Tommy had come up to her after a very rousing church service and had asked her for a date. The two families met and discussed the date and any future dates to come.

A month after their first date, Tommy and Birdie were married. The Smiths helped Tommy and Birdie; they paid the first three months' rent on the trailer home. The Lark family helped the newlyweds find some serviceable furniture.

In the morning, Birdie made breakfast, then kissed her husband as he left for his job at the local Burns & Burns Grocers grocery store. Cheryl Brewsted, his supervisor had been making noises about cutting Tommy's hours; something the Smiths could barely afford. As it was, they were a month behind on their rent and owed Tommy's parents two hundred and fifty dollars. Of course, Tommy wasn't too worried about what money they owed to Birdie's parents.

Birdie cleaned the trailer and made sure to wash her husband's clothes first before washing her own clothing.

At twelve thirty, she packed her dinner, a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, a slightly green apple and a bag of jalapeno potato chips. Tommy didn't like jalapenos so never ate those bags. All the other chips in the thirty two mega-pack of the Burns & Burns brand potato chips were eaten with relish, though. Birdie wanted to grab the sour cream and cheddar chips; she really liked that flavor, but grabbed the jalapeno ones instead in deference to her husband's wishes.

Birdie was bathed in sweat by the time she reached Holland's Hand Cranked Ice Cream shop and spent a few moments in the rear of the store, cooling down. Sufficiently cooled, Birdie ducked into the employees' restroom and gave herself a sponge bath. Somewhat freshened, she dug her freshly laundered uniform from her large canvas bag.

Stepping out of the bathroom, Birdie nearly ran into Sylvia Von Anders, Ernst's wife. Sylvia gave the girl a beaming smile and Birdie returned the smile. Even as she smiled, Birdie felt insignificant whenever she was around the elegant, poised, and stunningly beautiful woman.

Sylvia wore tight Barragona jeans and a Holland's Hand Cranked Ice Cream uniform blouse. Birdie did not know that the jeans were Barragona brand; Birdie couldn't tell one brand from another. But she could tell that the jeans were of a good quality and were very fetching on the beautiful woman. Sylvia's uniform blouse was very snug and to Birdie's curious eyes, it did appear that Mrs. Von Anders might have forgotten to wear a brassiere underneath the blouse.

"Hi, Birdie, how are you?" Sylvia asked pleasantly even as she prepared to leave the rear of the store.

"I'm fine, Mrs. Von Anders," Birdie whispered as she hung her canvas bag on the hook at the doorway. "How are you?"

"Have a good day," Sylvia said, leaving the rear room.

"Yes ma'am; you too," Birdie said, then clocked in for her shift.

They were busy; it was a Friday afternoon and schoolchildren were crammed in the small shop, excited to be out for a whole glorious weekend. In the late afternoon and early evening, young couples came in, excited to be out on a date together. Because they were busy, Birdie never had an opportunity to eat her dinner.

At nine o'clock, Birdie again had to text her husband. She ate her sandwich and chips and apple while she and Ernst sat outside of the shop, waiting for Tommy.

"So, Birdie, why don't you have your own car?" Ernst asked.

"Mr. Ernst, I, my husband and I, we don't make enough money to afford another car," Birdie admitted, swallowing her last bite of apple.

"Hmm," Ernst said.

"Sorry, sorry, fell asleep," Tommy apologized to Ernst when he came to a stop.

If Birdie noticed that her husband did not apologize to her for being neglectful, she didn't say anything. Ernst did notice, though that Tommy spoke to him, deferred to him rather than to his own wife.

While Birdie was again preparing supper for her husband, Ernst was forcefully trying to push Sylvia through their mattress. After her third orgasm, Ernst forced her onto her hands and knees and used her breasts as reins while he rode her hard.

"What has gotten into you?" Sylvia laughed happily as he pumped a load of semen deep into her.

Saturday and Wednesday, Tommy was there on time, waiting for Birdie to get off of work. She'd been off on Monday, as had Tommy. They'd gone to the Smiths home for dinner Monday night and Birdie had sat silently while Tommy's parents berated him about the money they owed them. That night, Tommy took her twice. The first time, he had not even waited for her to be lubricated. The second time, she was lubricated by his semen when he rolled on top of her and thrust frantically into her.

Tuesday, Birdie had worked in the morning. Tommy had not been waiting for his wife when she'd clocked out. Ernst watched as the blonde girl squared her shoulders with determination and stepped onto the sidewalk. The girl walked toward her home, the oppressive summer heat causing the air to shimmer off of the asphalt.

Thursday night, Tommy had to be roused from slumber once again. Sitting on the bench, Ernst asked Birdie point-blank if she believed in the Bible, believed the teachings of the Reverend James McCall and the Holy Church of Bethlehem. Did she truly believe that she was the property of Thomas Arnold Smith? Birdie's long moment of silence and blank stare before finally shrugging her shoulders was all the answer Ernst needed.

"The Bible, it, I believe it's the word of God," Birdie finally said. "All that other stuff?"

"A dollar more an hour would probably come in handy, wouldn't it?" Ernst asked as he rested a beefy hand on Birdie's thigh.

"Are you kidding?" Birdie agreed.

Birdie looked at Ernst, then turned as Tommy's vehicle shuddered into the parking lot. Ernst chanced a quick squeeze to Birdie's thigh as the girl rose to her feet.

"Not sure if I can swing it; let me look at the books," Ernst said as the automobile drew near.

Again, Tommy apologized to Ernst, not his wife. Ernst gave the foolish young man a hard look before turning and double-checking the front door of the shop.

"You were off today?" Birdie said quietly as Tommy pulled out of the parking lot.

"Yeah, believe Cheryl cut me to thirty hours?" Tommy complained.

"Did you look for another job?" Birdie asked. "You're a hard worker; you're honest and trustworthy; surely any other place would be happy to have you?"

Tommy had not looked for other employment; he was happy where he was. Tommy had spent the entire day playing video games on his brand new console. The wreckage of his lunch and his constant snacking throughout the day was evident when they entered the trailer. With a sigh, Birdie made dinner for her husband, then cleaned up his mess.

The following week, the entirety of Birdie's paycheck went to repaying Tommy's parents. Birdie wanted to say something about the rent on the trailer now being two months late, the utilities were also due. They still owed Birdie's parents; they'd not made any effort to repay that loan. Instead, she bent her head and did a load of her husband's laundry.

While Birdie labored at their trailer, Cheryl Brewsted looked on blandly as Tommy complained about her cutting his hours to twenty three hours for the week ahead. Finally, the manager of the Burns & Burns Grocers grocery store let Thomas Smith know where the door was; he was always free to walk out of it and go find another job.

"See, Smith, here's the deal," Cheryl said. "I've got seventeen employees. Sixteen of them bust their asses, sixteen of them don't stand there and spout out a bunch of Biblical nonsense every time you talk to them. The seventeenth one? Wouldn't run if the store was on fire. The seventeenth one would just shuffle his lazy ass to the door talking all this shit about God and judgement and shit. Want more hours? Show me some hard work during the hours I do give you. Otherwise? Be grateful I give you any hours at all."

While Tommy was shuffling to his next assignment, praying fervently under his breath that God would pass Almighty Judgement on Cheryl Brewsted, Ernst was watching Birdie's delectable rump shimmy and sway as she dutifully mopped up a child's spilled malt. The child's grandmother gave Birdie a five dollar tip and Ernst was shocked when Birdie handed the tip to him.

"I ah, no, no, Birdie, that woman gave this to you," Ernst said, pressing the money into her hand.

"Thank you," Birdie said and put the money into her canvas bag.

"By the way Birdie, do you have a driver's license?" Ernst asked, watching the older woman's haunches as she and the child left the shop.

"Yes sir," Birdie said. "Do you need to see it?"

The Reverend McCall was not particularly fond of women knowing how to drive. He would not ban it outright, but all at the Holy Church of Bethlehem knew his views on the subject of women drivers.

However, August Lark had slipped in the shower; an errant bar of soap had been his undoing. Even though he was cognitive, he was in no shape to drive himself to Alliance Square Health Facility. A one thousand two hundred and nineteen dollar ambulance bill convinced August that his wife, Robin Lark needed to know how to drive.

And when Skye was of age, she too was taught. The same was true with Birdie and now the youngest Lark, Falcon was learning to drive.

"So, that little Corolla out there," Ernst said, pointing through the glass window at a 2006 faded white Corolla, "Would probably come in handy, wouldn't it?"

"Yeah, yes sir, it, it sure would," Birdie agreed, staring at the cute automobile. "DO you know who owns it?"

"And maybe that dollar an hour?" Ernst said, now dangling the keys of the automobile in front of the girl.

"Yeah," Birdie agreed, looking at the keys on the end of Ernst's finger.

"Tell you what," Ernst said. "We're off Sunday, right?""

"Yes sir," Birdie agreed, still looking at the keys for the cute car. "Sunday is the Sabbath and..."

"But if we were say, to do some inventory; work we couldn't do while we're open..." Ernst crooned, putting the keys into his pocket again.

"What...what do you mean?" Birdie asked, throat dry.

Birdie had a pretty good idea what Ernst was hinting at; he certainly was not the first man to notice her large chest or shapely rear. She did not try to bring attention to those attributes, she did not flaunt herself or her charms. But boys and men did notice her large chest, did notice her round buttocks.

"We spend a little time; there's that cot, remember when we had that tornado..." Ernst said.

Birdie did not answer Ernst. Shutting her deep brown eyes, she turned her back to the man and grabbed a clean cloth.

"Think about it," Ernst crooned, placing his hand on Birdie's back, just above the waistband of her drab slacks.

Again, she said nothing as she busied herself with cleaning the glass door of the ice cream cooler. Ernst watched Birdie's juicy buttocks, imagining lubricating her tight little star. His wife Sylvia would let Ernst thrust a finger into her backdoor, but a second finger was loudly rebuffed. The request to have anal sex, thrusting his fat cock into her bowels was soundly denied. Sylvia declared that the anus was 'exit only' and that was the end of that discussion.

Again, Tommy was late picking Birdie up that evening. Again, he apologized to Ernst while a silent Birdie got into the passenger seat of the car.

As he ate the dinner his wife prepared for him, Tommy informed Birdie that his hours had been cut again. Birdie stared at his unconcerned face for a long moment.