Closing time

Closing time, your favorite time. Or it should be, would be under normal circumstances. Not tonight, for once you just wished that you could work all through the night and into tomorrow. Instead you can’t help but look at the hands on the clock as they inch closer and closer to closing time without feeling a kind of anxious dread. Knowing that when that little and big hand clasped again you will have to have a very uncomfortable conversation followed by some rough decisions. Or maybe you had already made them and were just scared to say them out loud.

A loud echoing ring woke you from your day dream as someone entered the bakery. The sound bouncing off the clean white tile, reverberating through the clear, albeit at times smudged glass that separated you and your creations from the hungry animals you call customers.

“Hi welcome, have you-” you pause in the middle of your standard greeting seeing that the customer is a regular, the man with the hollowed eyes, at least that’s how you remember him, because you don’t know his name, he’s never introduced himself even though he comes regularly enough to feed his gelatinous girlfriend…

“The usual?” you ask, knowing what him and his lady friend prefer and knowing that he wasn’t one for conversation. Mostly he just stood there looking uncomfortable like he was a vampire pained by the glare of the marble styled shop or a ghost who hadn’t realized he was dead yet depending on his energy level.

“No,” was all he said taking you by surprise and intriguing you enough to take a closer look at him. Although nothing was physically wrong with him you could instantly see that he was just, just broken on the inside. You had seen that look in a million movies, dreamed it while reading a thousand books, you knew what caused it.

“Are you okay?”you ask wanting for some reason to comfort this strange man you had never even exchanged names with.

A heavy sigh seemed to release from his whole body before saying, “No.”

“What are you doing here than?” you asked too sharply wincing as you realize what you’d said and the mean undertone in which you’d said it.

Clearly not noticing your tone he said, “She had yoga today.”

A light bulb went off in your head as the pieces feel together, every time him and his girl had come in, she’d been doing yoga and by your calculations the days he hadn’t been with her were the same days, probably getting them as a treat for her. So fucking sweet of him just too fucking sweet, a pit in your stomach grew as you realized yours would never do that. Never even think of doing it.

“Can I get a hot chocolate and just,” he trailed off clearly wanting something not on the menu.

“Yea just take a seat. I’m gonna be closing soon but you can stay as long as you want,” you said before turning around hastily not sure why you had just said that. This wasn’t a romance novel, you couldn’t just invite some random guy you barely knew to close shop with you, that’s how woman ended up on the news murdered. Besides even if you wanted to do something you couldn’t you already had someone and that wasn’t-

“Thank you,” he said dropping several dollars on the counter and one into the tip jar. He didn’t turn to go sit down though instead you could feel him watching you, not in an uncomfortable way that made you feel the need to close early but more in a curious way, almost as if he had just discovered you existed and like a previously unseen art piece, not sure of its artistic value yet.

In your head you say, “Don’t let it go to your head he’s just going through a breakup, he doesn’t want you just someone. Probably just lonely and looking to fill a hole.” you half giggle to yourself at your cleverness, making a mental note to write some of this down.

Still you can’t help but notice how tight your dress feels and what parts it accentuates as you press the button on the hot chocolate machine. Turning back to the broken man you half want to see a look of sensual hunger across his face, the other half hoping for purer desires. Instead you are met with gratitude. Simple gratitude at you having been nice, that’s all.

“It will get better, at least I think it will,” you say cursing to yourself in your head. What are you thinking? You shouldn’t talk be talking to him like this what if he gets the wrong idea…

“Thanks,” he said with a genuine chuckle, something about his smile sent butterflies flapping in your stomach and found it vitally important to check all the machines.

Not seeming in the mood to converse he found a seat at one of the several small black and white checkered tables shifting from seat to seat until he found one that didn’t wobble. You make a mental note to yourself to either get new chairs or fix the ones you have.

Once seated you can’t help but watch him sip his hot chocolate, the way his throat ebbs and flows as he swallows, not big gulps, slow, controlled sips, almost sensual in a way. The crinkling of paper wakes you from your day dream. Looking away from the Hallowed Eyed Man you see that his receipt is barely printing out, funny you don’t even remember ringing him up. Ripping the paper you leap over the counter your suddenly tight skirt constricting as you land with an audible thud, embarrassed and feeling suddenly like a teenager again you cross over to him and hold out your hand.

“Wasn’t sure if you wanted this?” you say trying to blow past the fact you had just jaunted over the counter like you were doing track again.

He smiled, a look of amusement across his face, “could have asked me from over there you know.”

Although it was technically a question it had the tone of a statement. No judgment or undertones, him just letting you know that he knew you were… what were you doing? Flirting, entertaining yourself, just feeling alive for one night instead of just working so that you could go back home and watch TV with-

A clank woke you from your thoughts as he put his glasses down on the table, “Thank you,” was all he said before reaching for the piece of paper his fingers dancing across your skin as he dragged the piece of paper from your palm goosebumps shooting across your body.

Knowing that feeling in your stomach and knowing what would happen if you stay this close any longer, your eyes race across the shop looking for anything to occupy yourself with. Seeing nothing of importance you take off your glasses pretending to clean them, “well if there’s nothing else I can help you with, I’ll just be over, Shit,” you say as your glasses manage to slip from your hands clanking as they bounce on the tile floor.

“Crap,” you say reaching to grab them only be beaten by a pair of smooth soft hands small golden hairs creeping from his arms to his digits.

“Sorry,” he said standing up no more than two feet from your face. Without asking he gently slides your glasses back onto your face. His hands lingering against your round cheeks. You remove your glasses and put them next to his.

A look of surprise crosses his face as he realizes the signal you just gave him. His other hand moves gently up your arm and finds your face. Cupping them almost messaging them, like he can’t believe your real. Wanting him to know he’s okay you trace your hands along his chest, its there that a bit of fear swells in your chest, you realize this man while no gymnast is smaller than you, lean and tight, soft in some areas but you guess that is more due to laziness and coming into a bakery every week than being overweight. Part of you wants to run him out and close down shop than light the dam thing on fire so you don’t ever have to see him. All those smirks and snorts from all those men at seeing your rolls, and protruding belly come rushing at you all at once almost making you stumble back a half step. Oh what are you doing you think? Men like him never want a plump pig like you, they want some skeleton model with no breasts. You know you should just usher him out the door, beside you have to go home and talk to-

But his lips are so soft, one small patch of dried skin that makes you giggle as it brushes against your lips. He smiles at that thankfully understanding that your not laughing at him. Quickly his hands move caressing your neck before fumbling on your breasts. His tongue tracing your mouth like a painter. You can’t help reach around and grab the small of his back pulling him into you leaving no question to your intentions.

“Are you sure,” he asks in between a heavy breathe as he bobs away, clearly hungry and willing but trying his best to be respectful.

You answer by going up his spine to base of his neck, “Mmmhmm,” is all you say before smashing your faces together in a fit of slobber and panting.

Than you feel his hands loosen there grip as they come around to your back, than hesitation? He wants to do something, you can tell, but something holds him.

“Go for it,” you mumble before nipping at that cute bottom lip of his.

Immediately the muscles in his hands bulge as his hands go down your back and reach for your… love handles? You have to stop yourself from laughing knowing how he would take that but unable to help yourself from smiling as his hands tenderly grip and massage your rolls. His racing heartbeat clearly letting you know he likes what he’s feeling and wants more. For the first time in forever you feel like someone is appreciating your body for what it is. Knowing how special it is and not wanting it to stop you push him away.

“Come back tomorrow,” you stay still grasping him, his hands still enjoying themselves.

You can tell from his expression that he is confused, realizing that there is some piece to the puzzle he’s missing. The wheels turn for a bit. His hands find your thighs gingerly outlining them like an artist who knows he only has so much time with his subject.

“Okay,” he says before taking one last kiss as he massages your cheek letting you know that he knows he could take everything from you if he wanted, and that you wish he would, but respecting you enough to wait.