Just Business 6

I'm really excited to share this little "Just Business" series. I'm a restaurant manager as my day job, and I grew up in kitchens, and have been in food my entire working life, so this blends my nasty hobby with my career passion, and I hope y'all enjoy! Ch. 2 is up on my Patreon.

Warning: The spice starts out as reluctance but goes to willing pretty quick.

This is a Harbinger96 original and is not to be shared or reposted without my permission. All characters involved in sexual activity are 18 or above.

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"Tomorrow is one of our biggest nights of the year. Who the fuck keeps messing with my prep?" Ripley Dryden, the manager and senior-most employee of Rossi's Italian Restaurant barked, her hands in her tied back blonde hair.

"Rachel said she didn't want the meat for the antipastas cut at an angle," Richard, one of our newer guys, said meekly. He didn't want to get ran over by Ripley, and I didn't blame him.

"Richard, I get you're new and that's fine, but here's something you should learn pretty quick; Rachel doesn't know a fucking thing," Ripley said right to his ear.

"But she goes to culinary school," he said back, but not in a confrontational way. Me and the guys who knew Ripley well knew how she felt about culinary school students that wanted to be called Chef without having job experience, who hadn't climbed out of the dish pit and prep.

"She goes to culinary school," Ripley mocked right back. "And I was working right here, in this business as a waitress the day she was literally born. I couldn't give a smaller shit about a degree she doesn't have yet," Ripley said to all of us. "If she tells you to do something a certain way, tell her you will, but then don't. Just don't do it. We do it my way here, the way we've been doing it for years."

"Heard," I said, not having an issue with it. Not only was Ripley the only coworker that scared me, but her 20 years of experience made her damn good at her job. She ran a tight ship, but it was a good fucking ship. A few other heards sounded around me, but there were definitely some anxious staff that really didn't like the civil war that was brewing in the workplace.

"Everyone get back to work, the way we've been working. Tonight shouldn't be anything too busy, but it's gonna go off tomorrow," our fearless leader said with her thinning Australian accent. Ripley had moved here for the American dream when she was 18, but a run of bad luck saw her shipwreck at Rossi's, but she made the best of it, becoming the best manager in the restaurant's considerable history, having been in the Rossi family for 67 years.

As our prep window before we opened for dinner narrowed, Ripley spent more time trying to get her ship back from Rachel's destruction that started with Rachel trying to rewrite the recipe and procedure book.

When 4 p.m. hit, Ripley put herself in expo to make sure that Rachel hadn't fucked with the way we were plating. Luckily I just had to call, which Rachel couldn't try to fuck with. Calling was calling, which meant timing was everything.

As the shift pedaled on, things went Ripley's way because the rest of the boys had learned it was easier for everyone to act like the boss's giant, gorgeous young daughter wasn't even here.

We got through one hour of dinner before we heard heeled footsteps coming down the stairs to the kitchen door.

As soon as it opened, Ripley's eyes didn't leave the expo board but she pointed a finger behind her and said, "Get the fuck out of my kitchen."

Ripley's gut instinct and ear were right, it was one Rachel Rossi, stepping right into Ripley's space. She was the only woman I had ever met who could dwarf Ripley, who was 5'9 herself, but Rachel somehow still had four inches on her, and was taller still in black pumps.

"My dad's kitchen, you mean," Rachel said snidely. "Why are you fucking up my plating?" Rachel asked, not backing down.

"The plating is being done the same way it has been since before you were born," Ripley said, perfectly calm, her eyes on the screen. "Why are you fucking with my cooks?"

"I'm not fucking with your cooks," Rachel spat, her face scrunched in anger, but Ripley the veteran had a perfect poker face. "I'm updating them. Because while I'm going to school to bring us into the future, you're still keeping them in 2002."

Finally, Ripley turned her head, sharp blue eyes glaring, her jaw tense. "Get the fuck out of my kitchen, and back upstairs. You're lucky I'm not calling your father to tell him about the whore's clothes you're working in." Ripley trailed her eyes from Rachel's strapped pumps up her waxed thick legs to her skirt that was only at mid thigh, showing off her hams. Her huge tits were fighting to break out of her size or two too small black blazer, red frilled bra visible depending on the angle, deep cleavage on easy display.

"We will be having a further discussion right at close, so do not try to head home early," Rachel said, standing right up to Ripley, nearly placing her bust right at Ripley's face.

"First in, last out, bitch. I'll be here all night," Ripley laughed, and Rachel stormed off, red faced and angry.

---

As soon as the clock hit 10:00, Ripley clapped her hands and said, "Ethan, get this shit turned off and let's go get a drink." Me and the crew planned to get a little silly since it was my last day with them. I was starting at a brand new place called "Martin's" just a few blocks from my apartment.

I had just said "Aye aye, ma'am," when we heard those clumping footsteps again. The door flew open and Rachel was right back to that place she seemed to love so much; right in Ripley's face.

"You had all fucking dinner to undo everything I did yesterday. Are you happy?" Rachel asked, her hands on her wide hips.

"I put things back to the way they were for years, so yeah," Ripley said fearlessly, not backing up at all from the taller Italian. "How long are you going to be in town wasting both of our time?"

"I'm going to be here all summer," Rachel snarked, pleased with the fire that flashed over Ripley's eyes.

"Good," she said, getting her control back. "Maybe you can fucking learn something about the real world and not that fancy 'heard Chef, yes Chef, please don't make me cry, Chef!' How much cock have you sucked this semester? Your dad said you had some good grades, and I know you're fucking stupid, so..." Ripley had gone fully off, sparking the Italian into a full fire. Rachel's brain was the size of her tits, and anyone who had a conversation with her knew it. We all figured her father was the only reason Rachel was going to take over the restaurant at all. Ripley wasn't an idiot herself, and knew where to poke,

"That's it, you're done. Get the fuck out, Ripley!" Rachel screamed, face ruby red and feet stamping. "This is my dad's restaurant, not yours!" Rachel shouted, and tried to push Ripley.

Ripley stepped back and Rachel almost fell forward, grabbing Ripley's blouse and trying to steady it, but ripped the shirt clean open, exposing Ripley's white bra and toned belly.

"It's his restaurant but I've been fucking him for three years!" Ripley told the class, reaching forward and pulling Rachel's blazer apart in revenge, showing the red bra we saw before was the only thing under it.

I got an eye full, having been standing at the call position on the line. A few of the others had come over to watch the show, and neither of the boss bitches seemed to care about the audience.

Ripley laughed, seeing the owner's daughter's lack of clothing. "You ran the floor dressed like a cheap hooker?"

"Shut the fuck up, you bottle blonde bitch!" Rachel shrieked, grabbing a nearby chef knife and brandishing it threateningly towards Ripley. "Not so tough when things get a little wild, huh?"

"You crazy fucker!" Ripley shouted, raising her arms and stepping back. "You insane fucking Italians."

"That's right," Rachel laughed maniacally. "Now take off that pretty white bra."

Ripley scoffed. "Are you fucking mental?"

"I'll take it off for you," Rachel growled, stepping forward and pulling the bottom of the bra strap tight, cutting through it easily with the knife.

Ripley stood there, hands up, shirt and bra both open, her medium sized tits with perky brown nipples exposed to half of the staff. "Rachel, this has gone too far!" Ripley tried to make the hot-headed Italian see.

"You started this by instantly being a cunt when I showed up, and then you tell me you're sleeping with my father? This has not gone far enough," Rachel said, shaking her head with a devious smile. "Are you a bottle blonde, Ripley?"

"No," my boss said, shaking her head. "Natural." Of course she didn't want to play along, but when a woman four inches taller than you, and has Italian fire in her veins has a knife, you answer the fucking questions.

"Take your pants off, Ripley. Let's see if the curtains match the drapes," Rachel said, still holding the knife. "C'mon."

Before Ripley could follow orders and be further embarrassed, I was able to inch by inch, almost unnoticeably, make my way out from behind my station and get behind Rachel, whose eyes had stayed on Ripley.

I grabbed her arm and forced the knife out of her hand and then pulled both arms behind her back.

"Hey! Don't fucking touch me! Get off!" Rachel ordered, but I wasn't about to let her go when she had just been threatening Ripley with a knife and was going to force her to strip in front of her own staff.

As the big Italian struggled against me, Ripley slapped her face hard, making her squeak. "You pulled a fucking knife on me?" Ripley said, pulling out of her wrecked clothing, leaving her only in her black slacks. Ripley bent down and picked up the knife, bringing about fair play by cutting the center strap of Rachel's bra, too, letting her humongous tits with thick brown nipples free. "You thought my loyal team would just let you do it?"

As I held the enraged restaurant heiress, Ripley brought the knife to the dish pit, removing it from this power struggle. If I wasn't already in Ripley's camp, I was now because she wasn't doing anything at a razor-sharp knife point.

"Can Ethan let you go, or do you need to learn your lesson more?" Ripley asked, grabbing Rachel's puffy nipples and twisting them, making the much taller girl hiss and draw in a sharp breath.

I took a big fucking gamble by releasing Rachel's arms and sliding them down her back so I could cup her huge, pear shaped ass. "If she's going to be here all summer, boss, I think she really needs to learn not to fuck with our system here." I was on my way out, but Rachel didn't know that. I didn't know how far I wanted to get involved with this, but how many chances was I gonna have to do shit like this?

"Get your fucking hands off me!" Rachel roared, her long dark hair still pinned up into a smart bun, stopping it from whipping all over as she was manhandled by Ripley and I. "This is mutiny! My father will hear about this and you'll all get canned!"

"She definitely needs a better lesson. The bimbo clearly hasn't learned shit," Todd the dishwasher said, taking off his apron and drying his hands. "When I was little and mouthing off, I got my ass paddled," he pointed out.

"No! Absolutely not!" Rachel thrashed as me, Ripley and Todd practically dragged Daddy's little girl over to a wood-topped prep table.

"Dale, bring me the thin pizza peel, would you?" Ripley asked nicely of our pizza cook, not even caring that we were all getting a perfect show of her toned upper body, breasts and hardened nipples included.

Me and Todd pressed hard on Rachel's back, flattening her huge tits to the table and held her arms as Ripley pulled down the black skirt, revealing an equally black g-string.

"You fucking slut!" Ripley laughed, slapping both of Rachel's fat cheeks. "No actual blouse and just ass floss under the skirt? You wanted to get fucked by someone tonight, huh? Didn't think it was going to be the whole Thursday cook staff, did you?"

"You can't do this! You can't!" Rachel cried and kicked as Ripley took the pizza peel from Dale.

Ripley brought the large wooden paddle down on Rossi's ass, making her jump and squeak, her bountiful ass flesh jiggling and rippling. She couldn't jump far, only the little bit we allowed as we held her.

"One!" We all counted aloud as Rachel begged for it to stop. "Two!" We continued as Ripley spanked her again, and Rachel screwed her eyes shut. The spanks weren't hard by any means, but so fucking humiliating to the Italian princess.

As Ripley landed the third blow and we counted it out, a tear broke Rachel's eye. "I'm sorry, please just stop!" she cried. "You're the boss, Ripley. I have so much to learn, you're the boss!" she yielded.

"Get her up," Ripley said as she unbuttoned her slacks and pushed them down her long pale legs. Her silky white panties were next to go. "The curtains match the drapes, Rossi," Ripley mocked as she hopped up on the table, shaved legs dangling off it.

"Wh-what are you doing?" Rachel asked nervously as we held her vastly naked body, just that skimpy g-string still hiding anything.

"You may be the princess," Ripley began and spread her legs, showing all of us her pink pussy, "but I'm the queen, and you're going to pay homage. Now eat my pussy or they're going to shove your face in it." Sure, Ripley was 40, but knowing how to cook and keeping herself in good shape was always something she tried to remind us to do if we wanted to be in this game for the long run. I for one, considered myself lucky to be seeing her like this.

"Ripley, please!" Rachel begged, and three of us pushed her down, her face right between Ripley's sexy pins. "I said I was sorry!"

"You wanted to see if my drapes and curtains matched. Now you are. Eat. My pussy!" Ripley barked, and Rachel slowly moved her head forward. Pressing her tongue out.

It was pretty obvious Rachel Rossi had never had her face in a muff before, but she had hers eaten, and mimicked that as she flattened her tongue and rolled at the neck, making Ripley sigh and lean back.

"There's a good girl," Ripley praised the young thing who was half her age. "You know, Rossi, your father is going to propose to me any day, so you will be my daughter-in-law within a year or two," Ripley said, her elbows braced, blue eyes pleasantly closed. "Consider this the first of our mother-daughter bonding."

Rachel cried quietly, another tear rolling down her cute face as she continued to dutifully lick her soon-to-be mother-in-law.

"You clearly have the basics down. Now lick mommy's cunt like you mean it," Ripley said sweetly, but with an evil, sinister smile on her soft peach colored lips.

Rachel squeezed her eyes shut again and started licking with intent, swirling her tongue around Ripley's clit.

"That's a good girl," Ripley moaned. "Now you're making mommy proud, and very wet."

Rachel moaned at that, and I caught her knees twitching. She was getting into it! Did she have a mommy kink?

I took a gamble and pulled her barely-there panties down her thick legs, and Todd the dishwasher kept her head between Ripley's legs. I cupped Rachel's big, perfectly furless peach.

"Holy fuck, boss. Ms. Rossi is soaked!" I said and Rachel moaned, sobbing at the humiliation, but didn't dare stop munching Ripley's clam.

"Good. Make sure she's ready for all of you," Ripley said, her voice dripping acid. Rachel's eyes grew three sizes and we were all taken aback.

My hand paused, just resting on Rachel's big muff for a moment as what Ripley said continued to register.

"Ripley, no!" Rachel pleaded, pulling her head from between the older blonde's legs.

Ripley sat up and then leaned forward, cupping Rachel's damp chin in her hand. "If our roles were reversed right now, you would have done the same to me, wouldn't you?"

Rachel squeezed her eyes shut and nodded. "Yes I would have. What better way to show dominance and reward crew loyalty?"

"Then you understand why I'm going to have everyone here fuck you, then?" Ripley said, squeezing Rachel's face harder, making the Italiano wince. Letting go of Rachel's sweet, defeated face, Ripley leaned back and asked "who would like to go first?"

Before I could say anything, Todd the dishwasher raised his hand. The guy was about Rachel's age, and based on the way he looked at her, his college didn't have anyone like her.

Ripley smiled, swinging her leg over Rachel's head, freeing the brunette from her pussy. "Todd, the floor is yours."

"On second thought..." Ripley said, tapping her sinful lips, "the restaurant business is a team game. I've only seen selfish playing from you, Rossi. Get on your knees and show me how you can work for everyone." The sinister smile on the boss's face was back as Jeremy, our sautee cook, slid a broken-down and flattened box in front of her, and pushed her down to kneel on it.

Two cooks and Todd were all too happy to whip out their tools, but I still didn't know how I felt about all of this. It was going so far beyond what I had expected, the manager and the owner's daughter both without a stitch of clothes, and Rachel taking a pair of cocks in her hands. She took them pretty willingly, though....

Ripley watched me quizzically as the evening's entertainment took the first cock head into her mouth. "Why so shy, Ethan? Don't you want Rossi to give you a good gurgling?" my boss teased as Rachel's eyes flitted over to me, somewhere between hopeful and worried, probably not sure how much she was going to have to endure in one night, but interested to try. I was wondering how much water Ripley's joke about Rachel being a slut at culinary school actually held as I watched the debauchery.

"Here, let me help you get started," the beautiful blonde said, grabbing another flattened box and laying it down next to Rachel, only for Ripley to take a similar pose. "I wouldn't do this for anyone, but it is your last day, I didn't get you a good leaving present, and you've been the best cook I could ask for," she listed off why she was doing this as she undid my belt.

I looked down into Ripley's striking steel-blue eyes as she looked up into mine, her nimble hands undoing my button and fly, pushing my briefs down to take out my semi-hard cock. She ran her fingers through my short, curly hairs and teased the base of my length, smiling as I started to rapidly harden.

As Rachel got to work sucking and jerking the three men standing around her, Ripley watched her with a pleased smile, her hands slowly, casually jerking me as she reveled in her victory over the owner's cunt of a daughter.

"What a last day," I laughed, watching as Ripley worked both of her hands in unison over me, spitting inside the hand tunnel she had created to help me get good and wet.

"I want you to fuck Rachel first, okay Ethan?" Ripley asked, still watching the giant heiress polishing knobs, her face getting properly filled as precum and spittle escaped the tight seal of her lips around the alternating meat, before it opened to lovingly embrace another, her expert hands keeping busy. She definitely wasn't fighting anymore.

Rachel popped the cock out of her mouth and looked up at me. "I'm ready when you are, Ethan."

Ripley laughed and swatted Rachel's large tit. "You just decided to go full whore once you realized it was gonna happen, huh?"

Rachel shrugged. "It was either enjoy it or bitch the whole time. Oh, and Ripley," she said as she stood up, pushing the other cooks away from her, "I heard your comment earlier; just because I like to suck dick doesn't mean I'm stupid. I'm actually pretty fucking smart," she winked and turned around, sticking her ass out, giving me something to mount.

To Rachel's surprise, I didn't immediately drive into her, but grabbed her thick love handles and dropped down, burying my tongue between those fat wet lips of hers, tasting her and making her gasp in shock at the unexpected sensation of a tongue jutting into her peach. I pressed my thumb down on her brown starfish and applied enough pressure to make her jump, which did let the tip of my thumb just barely penetrate her tight sphincter, making the crew looking on laugh. I also had studied Rachel enough to know that being laughed at was what she hated the most, and I expected it to give her an extra rush of wetness.