Luscious Cones

"We have to go check this out, Charlie, I'm begging you! This is an incredible opportunity," Layla was tugging on her arm in an overexcited frenzy. "You need a job, you need the money, and if we both get jobs at this place, it would be perfect! We could ask to be scheduled at the same time so that I could drive you! It's like the answer to all of your problems!"

It didn't seem like a terrible idea, except that Charlie never considered herself a people person and she couldn't imagine doing something like this where she'd have to interact with customers. She had a job in the mailroom at the community college where she went during the school year. That was more her speed. She sorted mail by the department and made trips to deliver it to the different buildings around campus with minimal interaction with other people. THAT was perfect. Not working behind the counter at a busy homemade ice cream shop all summer where the line frequently stood out the door.

"I don't know," her voice was soft and she didn't meet her friend's eyes. "It just doesn't seem like something I can do."

"You can totally do this! Oh my god, Charlie, how hard is it really to scoop ice cream into cones and take people's money? There's nothing to it! And the ad said 'no experience necessary' - you learn everything you need to know once you get the job."

"I can't talk to customers all day, Layla! I will have a fucking anxiety attack!" She whisper yelled that to her friend, picking up her legs to fold underneath herself on the sofa. Her brother chose that moment to walk out into the living room, wearing only his basketball shorts, carrying an empty glass back out to the kitchen.

"Why are you going to have an anxiety attack?" He furrowed his brow.

"If I get a job where I will have to deal with customers all day," she explained, giving Chase a meaningful look. Of all people, he would know that it would be impossible for her.

"I mean... is this a job that's just being offered to you to take or is this something more hypothetical? Because, I hate to be a Debbie Downer, but you need something. You need to get a car and, eventually, you need to get your own place too. I'm not kicking you out or anything," Chase put his hands out in a defensive manner, "don't get me wrong, but at some point, you might want to sleep somewhere more permanent than on my couch."

Charlie sighed, looking down at her hands. Her brother has been very generous letting her stay there for months now and she knew that it wasn't a permanent arrangement. But she's barely had a chance to look for summer jobs yet. There could be something better fitting out there for her.

"It's at Luscious Cones in Watertown. It's not a sure thing, no, but they hire basically a whole new staff every summer, so there are a bunch of open positions and they are doing applications and interviews next weekend. You can just show up, fill out an application, and get interviewed on the spot. No experience necessary. It's a good deal," Layla rattled off, for Chase's benefit.

"Hmm... I don't know," her brother made a face. "It sounds a little suspect. Why don't they have returning staff? I get that they are a seasonal place, but why not rehire people who already know their way around the shop and know the business?"

"Ugh, I don't know, Chase!" Layla exhaled. "You're not helping! Maybe they like to give more people an opportunity. From everything I heard, they pay really well, more than some other seasonal shops. And that place is always packed."

"I don't know, Charlie," her brother looked at her, shrugging. "Maybe it's worth a try. It definitely wouldn't hurt. Do you have any other leads right now?" She shook her head, biting her lip. "So maybe just go and check it out."

"Thank you! Yes, just come and check it out with me, Charlie!" Layla seemed glad to have the support. With the two of them egging her on to try this thing out, Charlie felt like she had no choice. She needed a job. Maybe whoever was doing the interviews would see exactly how inadequate she was for this type of position and she just wouldn't get it.

There were a ton of people at the small ice cream shop on the day of the applications and interviews. The parked cars spilled over into the the neighboring lot of the nail salon and even across the road, into the lot of the supermarket. People waited outside the doors, filling out applications on each other's backs. Charlie guessed there were at least 60 applicants, if not more, but some of them came with their parents or friends, company to stand in line with. And how many jobs would there actually be? 10 or 12? It seemed ridiculous.

She filled out her application and stood in line with Layla, who seemed to be all about checking out their competition. Some of the interviews were over quickly. Others seemed to go on forever. The butterflies in Charlie's stomach were the size of bunnies, doing all kinds of hopping and somersaults as she shifted from foot to foot, waiting. She had worn a professional-looking outfit - a pencil skirt that came down to her knees with a button-down blouse and a pair of heels. She kept adjusting her top as the buttons strained a little over her breasts, the material puckering there. She was definitely regretting wearing this blouse by the time she was finally inside the small shop.

There were just three small tables with two chairs each against the windows, opposite the counter. The rest of the seating was outside, in front of the glass storefront. By the time Charlie was called into the back office for her interview, the lump in her throat felt painful and she wasn't even sure that she'd be able to speak.

"Charlotte Olson?" The man in his mid to late thirties sitting behind the desk said her name as she walked through the door, reading it off her application. "Have a seat," he gestured to the seat on the opposite side of the desk. Even sitting down he looked tall, solidly built, with a chiseled jawline and dark eyes. He seemed to be looking her over intently, his eyes running up and down her body. "Alright, Charlotte," he finally spoke, leaning his elbows on the desk, "I'm Bill Rainer. My dad and I are the owners of Luscious Cones. As you know, there is no experience needed, but out of curiosity, have you ever worked in food service or retail before?" Charlie shook her head no. He cocked his head to the side, his eyebrows drawn together. "Why are you interested in this job?" Charlie took a deep breath, trying to shake the nerves that were overwhelming her at the moment and actually produce sound.

"I need a job. The mailroom, where I worked last year, they don't need as many people over the summer and since I was just a student, working part-time, they don't need me," she spoke in a soft voice, hoping the man interviewing her could hear what she was saying.

"Right," he nodded. "But why here?" Charlie shrugged.

"My friend wanted us to do this together," she said, honestly.

"Hmm... who's your friend?" His eyes narrowed.

"Layla Hadi," Charlie watched him jot something down on her application.

"Is that who you came with today?" She nodded. "Talk to me a little bit about why you need this job." She sighed.

"I need to get a car. I can't constantly rely on getting rides from people and the public transportation around here is virtually non-existent. I don't even have a bike. And," she looked away from him, looking over at the wall to her side where he had a framed sketch of the shop from what looked like the 60s. "I need to get my own apartment or, more likely with a roommate, I don't know when I'd actually be able to afford something of my own." She mumbled.

"And your parents can't help you with that?" Charlie looked back at Bill. His head was tilted to the side again, his forehead creased. She shook her head no. "Is it that they don't have the money or that they are trying to teach you some sort of a lesson about earning it yourself?" It felt like a weird question coming from a potential employer. Charlie hesitated to answer it, to dump all of her weird family baggage in front of this man she just met. But wasn't she hoping not to get this job? Then what did it matter?

"I don't live with my parents," she told Bill. "My mom... we don't have a good relationship. After her current boyfriend moved in and we had some..." she wondered how best to describe it in this work interview situation, "disagreements and... I'm staying with my brother right now, on his couch." Bill nodded, giving her an understanding look.

"And your dad?"

"I don't know," she shrugged. "He's not... into parenting." She should have said that he wasn't in the picture at all. She hasn't seen her dad since she was about 9 or 10 when her grandmother passed away.

Bill followed up with a few other questions about her family, which seemed odd, somehow, asking her about what they did for a living and what her brother did as well. He asked her about what she was studying and about any other jobs she's had in the past. After all of that, he pulled out a bunch of papers from one of the desk drawers.

"I want to offer you a job," he told her with a small smile. "I think you'll be a good addition to the Luscious Cones team." She couldn't believe this was happening. Charlie's heart raced in her chest, threatening to jump out as Bill set down papers in front of her. She was only half-listening to him as he talked about the non-disclosure agreement, due to the proprietary recipes and equipment they have in the shop and about her contract agreement, that she'd be fined if she were to quit before the end of the season.

"I think I need to think about this," her voice was soft, filling in the silence when Bill passed the papers over to her to sign. "I... umm... I don't know."

"Charlotte, you came here because you wanted the job. If you walk out that door today, without signing on, your spot goes to someone else," he told her. "I already hired three girls today. I hope to round out the team by the end of the day." She picked up the papers that he had placed in front of her, trying to read over what he wanted her to sign. The non-disclosure agreement very broadly stated that anything going on in the back of the shop was off-limits for discussion with anyone else, including friends and family. She picked up the pen that he had extended to her and, with a shaking hand, signed the document. "Alright, good choice there Charlette," Bill nodded as she started reading over the contract. The contract talked about accepting whatever tasks are assigned for the day, that these may change from day to day. It mentioned uniforms and keeping up with the overall appearance representative of the shop's image. Bill had already mentioned to her, verbally, that it's a commitment for the entirety of the season and that if she were to quit before the season is over, there was a penalty. There would be a paid orientation/training session, which made Charlie feel slightly better about this whole anxiety-inducing thing. She signed the contract, handing it back to Bill, and worked on completing the other employment forms underneath that.

She walked out of the office feeling shell shocked, giving Layla a quick thumbs-up as she followed her into the office. She waited outside by Layla's car, a ten-year-old, white, two-door, Volkswagon Rabbit. Layla didn't take half as long as Charlie did in the interview and came out with a sour expression on her face. Charlie's insides twisted into a knot again.

"What happened?" She asked her friend as Laya approached, taking her car keys out of her purse.

"I don't think it went well. He said that if I don't get a call back from him, it's a no." She unlocked the driver's side door and pressed the button inside to unlock the passenger side for Charlie. "What did he say to you?" She asked once they both sat down inside. Charlie bit her lip, feeling terrible.

"He... umm... had me sign the papers," Charlie told her quietly. Layla turned the key in the ignition and Nirvana came on over the radio. Layla looked back at Charlie, her expression somewhat disbelieving.

"You got the job?!" Charlie nodded. "That's awesome!" Layla smiled at her. "I'm so happy for you!" She leaned across the gear shift and hugged Charlie. Layla seemed more enthusiastic about the whole thing than Charlie was.

"How am I going to actually get there, if you don't also work there though?" It was a very real problem that Charlie hoped to use as an excuse to try and weasel out of that contract she already signed.

"Don't worry about that, sweetie, we'll figure it out! The important thing is that you got the job! Yay!" Layla was excited, pulling out of the parking lot. "I'll drive you, Chase will drive you, I'm sure you'll make friends with other people who will work there and can get rides with them. We will make it work! God, this is amazing," Layla tapped on her wheel along with Man In The Box by Alice in Chains that came on after the Nirvana song ended. "$7.25 an hour when the other places pay a $4.25 minimum wage is so good! I'm so glad you got it."

Layla was an awesome friend. Maybe she could actually do this, Charlie thought, with Layla's help and encouragement. She had second thoughts however when she came to the training and saw the uniforms Bill intended for all the girls to wear. They were short, pleated, black skirts and white tank tops with the shop's logo on them. The tanktops were of the sort with thin spaghetti straps and shelf bras inside and Bill told them that they weren't supposed to wear a bra with it. He said it was for esthetic reasons, that it wasn't attractive to see bra straps underneath the thin straps of the tank top. Charlie wasn't entirely comfortable with this idea. This was a lot less clothes than she was used to wearing.

Her best friend tried to be comforting about this, telling her that she won't be the only one dressed this way, so it won't be that bad. Chase looked over her outfit when she tried it on at home and frowned.

"Don't get me wrong, you can totally pull this off, but it just seems too... inappropriate for work. Unless you work at Hooters or something," he told her.

"But this is what they want me to wear, at work!" She crossed her arms in front of her chest feeling entirely uncomfortable in that tank top.

"I guess maybe... you know, it's going to be summer and when it gets really hot you'll be glad to have to wear that little," her brother shrugged. "Maybe it will be better than sweating in some polyester uniform with long pants and a heavyweight shirt."

She agreed that Chase had a point, except that she worked around freezers all day and the temperature inside the ice cream shop was far colder than what was happening outside in the summer sun. She consistently volunteered for tasks that allowed her to go outside and avoid interacting with customers. She took out the garbage and cleaned up the outdoor seating area. She refilled the napkin holders and brought up supplies from the basement. Anything to not interact with people.

Bill's dad, Lester, and uncle Hank were the ones who actually made the ice cream and Charlie volunteered to help them too, although that only served to make her even colder, working in the kitchen prepping the ingredients for them. On a cold, rainy evening when even the temperature outside had dropped down to the 60s and no one was coming in for ice cream, Charlie broke down and put on a sweatshirt. Her fingers felt numb and her nose was running from the cold in the shop.

"Man, I'm jealous I didn't bring one today," Debbie, who was working the shift with her, eyed the oversized hoodie Charlie had put on.

"I'm sorry," she felt genuinely bad for the other girl. She could see the goosebumps all over her arms and legs. "Maybe after I warm up a bit, you can borrow it for a while," she offered.

"Yeah, thanks," Debbie smiled at her.

It was getting dark outside and no one seemed to be coming in tonight in this rain. Debbie pulled out a sandwich she had brought for herself for dinner break and ate it sitting in front of the cash register. Charlie decided to restock the fridge with the beverages that had some empty spaces for additional water bottles and sodas. She went down to the basement to get them and stood at the open fridge neatly placing the bottles on shelves when Bill walked through the door. She gave him a quick 'hi' over her shoulder and turned back to the fridge to continue what she had been doing.

"When you're done with that, come into my office," Bill told her going behind the counter.

She didn't think anything of it at the moment, calling out a quick 'ok' as a confirmation, but when she walked into his office, the angry look on his face made her stomach immediately tangle into knots.

"Close the door," he told her when she walked in. She did, coming to stand in front of Bill's desk. "You're out of uniform," he told her, scanning over her body. She looked down at herself. The oversized hoodie came down past the hem of her skirt.

"No, no, I have it on," she pulled up at the edge of the sweatshirt to show him the skirt and tank top underneath it. Bill was shaking his head.

"Except if a customer came in, they wouldn't see it at all. They wouldn't know whether you were an employee or just another customer," he leaned back in his chair, his elbow on his desk. "This is in your contract, that you are to be in uniform at all times when you're on shift and that no alterations are allowed to be made to the uniform."

"I'm sorry," Charlie said quietly. She wondered whether he was going to fire her over this.

"It's also in your contract that reprimand for employee lack of compliance is at the discretion of management," he told her. Charlie nodded. Bill got up, walked to the door, turning the lock, then came to stand over her. She was eye-level with his chest and afraid to look up at his face. "Take the sweatshirt off," he told her. She did, holding it in her hands in front of herself. Bill took it from her and tossed it on his desk, then sat down in the straight chair on her side of the desk. "So what you're going to do now, Charlotte, is lay yourself right across my lap right here, facing the door, and get a spanking." She stood staring at Bill, her eyes wide. Part of her was waiting for him to smile and say that he was kidding. But he wasn't saying it. She stood frozen in her spot. Was he for real? He was actually going to spank her as a reprimand? She'd rather have her pay docked or hours cut or anything else that sounded like an appropriate workplace punishment. "Now, Charlotte," he patted his thighs, his expression entirely serious. She stepped closer and after another moment of hesitation, he pulled her down onto himself.

Her breath caught, her feet sliding out from under her as she landed in his lap. Bill didn't hesitate, pulling her skirt up over her ass and her panties down to her thighs. She felt the blood drain to her face, burning hot in her cheeks at being exposed to him. He landed heavy-handed slaps across her butt cheeks that stung tremendously. She felt hot tears shoot out like sparks from her eyes, while her brain simultaneously tried to calm her, saying that this wasn't half as painful as when Jet, her mom's boyfriend, beat her with his belt. There was a different type of insult to this injury, something embarrassing and sexual that gave Charlie conflicted feelings about this situation. She brought her hands to her face, trying to restrain herself from crying out loud. He stopped after a dozen or so hits and Charlie felt the burning sensation on her ass. His hand smoothed down her aching butt cheek and snuck its way between her legs, brushing over her pussy in a quick move. "Get up," he commanded her. Charlie struggled to get her feet back under her and right herself. Bill looked her over, smirking. "That should warm you up real good."