Date: Mon, 23 Apr 2018 13:51:15 -0600
From: Rocky Hawkins <justwriting@soniq.org>
Subject: Adult-youth submission: "The Diner - Johns Version"

Author's Note:

This story is told as a fantasy, and I won't tell you that there is any
truth to it. But, as narrator and protagonist, I am not really that
creative. So, you can decide if I made it up or not...

I love email and feedback, so let me know if you like this one!

DISCLAIMER:

The following content may contain detailed descriptions of sexual
interactions between a minor and adult. If the laws in your place of
residence or your religious beliefs make it illegal or wrong to read such,
do not continue. If this type of content offends you, do not continue.

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Contact me:
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========================================================

The Diner Story: John's Version

"John! Abigail just quit, and that damned fryer is not heating
prop'ly. Also, stock order was late yesterday!  If it weren't for
Dade... Wait, what- John, I'm talking to you-"

I closed the door to my small back closet they called an office. Janessa,
the raving bitch shouting at me as I walked in, gave up after a moment. I
knew there were problems, of course! Robin, the last manager, had gone
bat-shit crazy last month, stole hundreds of dollars in food and supplies,
then her husband had her committed. I haven't been able to find a
replacement yet.

The diner was one of five that I supervised, but it was certainly the most
needy. These places were `greasy spoons', so that meant low wages, high
turn around, but surprisingly good food, at affordable prices. At my level,
I made ok money, but it also meant long hours, and never knowing what you
walk into when you come back.

And this week was no different. Looking over the notes on my desk, we were
down two employees, there was a problem with the last deposit, and the
register totals didn't match the food costs. There was a lot of `wasted'
food this week. Ugh. Someone was stealing.

Sifting through the pile, one note stood out. It was light blue paper, with
a neon-pink ink.

`John, Welcome back! I know we've lost a couple people, but Sarah has been
in and has two hires starting in front, and I will be taking the cook spot
for now. It's a double, so please don't freak out at the overtime.  The
Brinks bank was on the nose, so no need to check banking - ignore the last
note about it being off.  Since Abigail quit, the waste food has gone down,
so I think we figured out where the extra case of burgers went.  Let's
see... I fixed the bathroom again, but we will need some washers for the
sink. I don't know much, so I got my Dad to help. I gave him a comp'd meal
and a 20$ gift certificate. The plumber wanted $300 and there was no petty
cash for it.  Otherwise, the payouts are done, but the stock shipment was
late. I paid them, but you'd probably want to make a call to get the late
fee. The next week's order (the green sheet, materials) is ready; I need to
order three new pans and all the silverware that was taken - so you have to
approve the higher cost.

Welcome back, Dade `


It was signed with a smiley, written in perfect cursive, and the I's were
dotted with hearts.  What could I say to that?  He was doing 300% more than
any manager i've ever had. He knew the staff, the processes, the pay system
- and when Robin had her break down, throwing dishes at customers, loading
up her car with food, and leaving voicemails on my phone every day for 3
weeks - he stepped in and just started, well, running the place.

It's been a month now, and I can't find a reason to stop him. The staff
have even taken to his authority. He had some trouble with the schedule,
but overall, no complaints. It's not easy to tell a bunch of people twice
your age that they have to work nights or weekends to cover for other
people's fuck ups.

I stepped out of the office, to review the physical issues that were
outlined in all the notes. I hadn't been here since last Monday, but with
Dade here, I felt like it was ok.

Janessa caught up with me, almost immediately - she dropped her bus-bin to
the kitchen, and stomped to me. With my clipboard in hand, I didn't make
eye contact.

"John, I know you're not `taking inventory'. We have to talk about
Abigail's shift, and about the stock-"

I raised my hand, and closed my eyes. She got the hint. "Look, Janessa," I
said, smiling and letting my stress fade. "Dade has already worked with
Sarah. There are two new hires coming up from the Monday HR at
corporate. They will be here tomorrow."

"But-" she tried.  I continued, over her.

"I've already made the call into the late stock. Dade let me in on that
one, too."

She shook her head, looking over at Dade, who had finished cooking three
plates of burgers, fries, and onion rings. "I realize he's doing, pretty
good at this, but I STILL don't know why you're letting a SIXTEEN year old
boy run this place. You know I've been here over 3 years..."

I smirked a bit, but kept my supervisor hat on. This, from a woman who
calls in sick at least twice a month, and has never taken responsibility
for anything that happens around here...

"Well, he's just doing the things I ask because we don't have a replacement
Manager. You could always take the Manager test..." I knew that would kick
her in the craw. She had taken the Manager test... twice.

Her face went pale, and her huff carried her to the smoker's section. She
sat next to Dade, who was also smoking. Techincally it was against the law,
and the policies, for a minor to smoke.. but I'm wasn't going to tell
anyone not to smoke in this stressful mess. "Hey baby boy," she cooed to
Dade, her more-than-sweet tone dripped.

I watched his reaction. It was obvious that he knew her feelings, but in
the same artificial tone, he responded.

"Hey, gurl! Crazy day huh? I'll be so glad when the new kitties start! I'm
gonna take over kitchen. During training, the new girls won't get the tips
- that will be great for you! 3 people's tips in one, all for shadowing,
hey?"

She lit her cigarette. He crushed his out, and stood up. "The guy at the
gas station gave me the damaged pack of Newports. I don't like them, so
I'll just leave them here-" he tossed them on the table- "feel free, if you
like them."

She smiled sweetly, her face frowning as soon as his back was turned. She
still took the smokes, putting them in her apron.

His confidence was bold, considering. At any point, any one of these adults
could revolt against the 16 year old with no real title. But they knew
better. He was the right person for this job. Of course, I can't hire a 16
year old full time, even IF he was emancipated.

In many ways, I really envied this kid. At 16, he had managed to finish
high school, get emancipated from his parents (to support himself), and was
taking part time college classes. Legally, he could work full time, but our
franchise wouldn't allow it; instead, he worked two jobs. Here, and another
diner in the `moonlight' district. Oh yeah, and he was gay. His `look' and
body movement would give it away, if you weren't completely oblivious. For
the 90's, it was completely normal for a guy his age to wear skater shoes,
flared jeans, and long, Kurt Cobain-style hair, right? And in that sense,
that was him. at 5'8", maybe a buck-fifty soaking wet, he looked like your
average 16 year old. A few spots on his face, some baby features that were
fading. He worked all the time, so it was clear he had the leg and arm
muscles, and since he didn't drive yet, I'm sure all his bike riding
helped.

Except.

For whatever reason, he was on a personal mission to make sure everyone
knew he was gay. His hair, like I said, was down to his jaw, long and
straggly. But, rather than just let it be like the style of the time, he
had to go and color the left few strands of his
bangs. Bright. Neon. Blue. Again, pushing the limits of the dress code, but
seeing how we have people here in weaves with god-knows what colors, it's a
minor thing.

Then, there's his posture. See, he didn't walk like other boys his
age. This one, I can't really explain - he would just...his gate was light,
and his steps were deliberate. It was like he always `checked' his
movements.  It was like every step was part of a dance for him. Light,
airy. But not feminine - just... I don't know. Deliberate. Like he was at a
formal function, and he was worried that he was being critiqued.

And then, his clothes. We had a dress code at the diners. Blue polo, jeans,
or on hot days, shorts over the knee, blue or black. The apron, half or
full. And yes, he matched the dress code. But unlike every other employee,
his jeans were always freshly cleaned, and his blue shirt, a standard polo,
seemed to be freshly pressed. So, you see what I mean? It wasn't `normal'
for a 16 year old. Well, maybe for a gay one? I don't have
much.. experience with them. Even in college, there was only maybe one? And
I sure as hell didn't hang out with him. Of course, it's not because I was
against the guy - but it was a different time. The 90's have changed things
a little. I mean, barely anyone baulks at him, and when they do, he's very
good about letting it slide off his back.

Like I said, Impressive kid.

I pondered his life as I thought about what he'd have been like as my
kid. I didn't have any kids, and the wife had recently tied my tubes to
make sure. I was fine with that. I was never destined to be a family
man. When my wife and I met, I was a wrestler in college, 2 years in. I
thought I was going to be a hot shot competitor, make myself at least
mildly famous. Then, after a stupid car accident, a broken collar bone and
a season of no lifting - well, that dream went out the window. But Karen
was always with me. I finished college, we got married, and the rest is
history.

Dade passed by me, my eyes staring into space as a I thought about those
college days, "Where are ya, John?" He asked.

I snapped to focus. Dade was leaning against a cooler, his bleach-blonde
hair trapped behing the diner's limited-edition gatsby-style hats, a little
of the blue streak showing in the hair behind his ear. He smiled broadly,
and shoved his cigarettes into his apron.

"What's that, Dade?"

"I was just asking where your mind was," he smirked, "and you are blocking
the hand-sink."

I moved to the left, letting him wash his hands. I could smell the sweet
scent of the cologne he wore - Hugo? mixed with the scent of a Marlboro
Light. I didn't like smoking, but it was almost a job requirement in places
like this. The only way to get a break, really. For some reason, I liked
the mixture of scents; at least on him. I mean, it wasn't offensive.

I watched as he moved back to the kitchen line. There was an order in the
window, and two tickets up for prep. "Order in the window, 14!" He called
out. He rolled his eyes at me, and I nodded. He was annoyed that he made it
through part of a cigarette, and no one out front took the
order. Simultaneously, he began to work the new tickets in the
window. Fries went to the fryer, 4 burgers slapped and sizzled on the
grill, a pile of onions went to the steamer area. Without looking, he
flipped a couple buns into to the toaster. All this without a sweat, or a
second glance at the tickets. The boy was good.

When he began to plate the burgers, I stepped to the line.

"Nope, out." He commanded.

I began to protest. "But, you're almos-"

"No one in the kitchen when we are cooking. Fucks up the flow. Besides," he
smirked again, "You're out of uniform, no hair net, and you didn't wash
your hands."

I smiled and took a step back, setting the clipboard down. Fine, I'll wash
my hands.

The orders were done, and as it was just after 2pm, the lunch crowd had
died out. Dade wiped down the station, all policies followed, and stepped
to me. "Ok, you got like 10 minutes, the 3pm Postal Service guys come in
and order a butt-load of 1/3 crown burgers, and they all want them
different temps. Did you get my note?"

I nodded, tapping my clip to my chest. "Sure. Just wondering how things are
going otherwise?"

Now, Dade was always a nice guy. His speaking style was always very
engaging, and very involved. In fact, I would often find myself getting red
in the face. I wasn't used to anyone, let alone a 16 year old homo- gay
kid, you know, get so close. Yet, here he was again, now sharing the wall I
was leaning on, and smiling. For a coffee-drinking smoker, he had a perfect
smile, and incredibly white teeth.

"Well, I mean, things are as you've seen. We're short-handed, I'm doing
doubles, along with Margaret and Collin, and even Max the cleaning guy is
picking up some `bus-dish' shifts." he shifted in his position, his back to
the wall. I didn't move, but his shoulder was now touching mine. "John,
even with a full 12 people staffed, we are too busy of a store. The
quitters are leaving because they are being run too thin. Anyone could see
that. And, before you even say it - it's not about more money. Money
doesn't give people the rest they need."

Like I said, he's an incredible kid.

I only nodded. I knew he was right. It was a 24-hour store, and we treated
it like the 18 hour locations. We didn't have the cleaners we needed, so
the waitstaff had to pick up that work. Of course, that kind of stuff
didn't get tips, and third shifts were terrible pay-outs. It was no wonder
we couldn't keep people.

"I'll mention it to corporate again,' I offered. Dade pushed off from the
wall and around me. He pulled out his keys (the only other person to have
them), and unlocked the office. I followed him in.

"In the OFFICE!" He shouted. A muffled, `gottit' was heard from the front.

As usual, Mondays were reconciliation. We went over the books, talked about
stock, hiring, staff, write-ups, etc. Today, Dade seemed pre-occupied. He
kept looking at his watch.

"Hot date?" I joked. His face got visibly red, and he continued signing
papers. Oh, really? "What's his name?"

Dade sighed, and closed the door. "It's not a date, but..." he stammered. I
pulled his signed red sheets and filed them. "This guy named Mike. He's one
of the.. guys from the Pager company down the street?"

I nodded. He was clearly struggling with this conversation. Which, to be
honest, I could understand. I didn't really `get' the whole `gay'
lifestyle. I've just always gotten lucky from girls. If I wanted butt
stuff, I could have it. Well, not anymore. My wife would never go for
that. But I knew there were chicks out there who would. And no vagina
means, yup, no pregnancy. But, now that I'm `fixed' like my fuckin' German
Shepard, who cares, right? It's just a good thing I can still cum. I love
the look of a hot load on a nice ass-

"So when I went in to get my pager fixed and renewed, Mike asked if I
wanted to hang out. He's got this flashy car, and he smiled at me... like
he may wanna do some stuff."

My thoughts shifted. I was getting a bit of bone from the thought of
shootin' on some random girl's ass; but when Dade mentioned `doing stuff',
I shifted back to reality. I wonder if he ever even had sex..?

"Well," I said, searching for something adult to say, "you got like,
condoms and stuff?"

He laughed, and leaned forward. His eyes met mine, and I began to shift
back. What was he gonna do? His face got closer, and his arm reached to the
arm rest on my chair. I held my breath.

He leaned against me for a second, and in that moment, i could feel my
heart beat through my chest. What was he.. "Dade, I'm not a fa-"

But I stopped. In the tight closet of an office, he wasn't reaching to me,
He was reaching through me. In a moment, he had his bag pulled out of the
cubby under the desk. I shook my head a little. Why the hell did I think he
was gonna do... something?

He just smiled. "I might be gay, but I don't molest people," his hands
reaching for a small pack in his bag, "unless they want it, anyway." He
laughed, and glanced down my body. I followed his eyes and gasp
silently. It seems that little John was awake! Fuck!

But, he dropped it. "Yeah, so, I never leave the house without being
prepaared," he unzipped the pack. Inside, a rainbow of condoms, lubricant
sample packets, and a black ring, about the size of a soda bottle. I looked
a little closer.

"Every color, huh?" I ventured.

"Yeah," he smiled. "I liked it when `Pretty Woman' did it."

I laughed, and recalled the movie. In the scene, Julia Roberts was just
about to start undressing Richard Gere to `get it on', and presented him
with 5 colors and a magnum. I'm not sure what happened after that, but the
memory made me smile. It was just like Dade to use the reference.

"Haven't used those yet, but maybe with Mike..." he blushed. I had so many
questions, but then I realized. Never used a condom?

"So," I paused. "You're.. a virgin?"

He opened his mouth in shock, then stuffed the condoms back in to the
bag. "In some ways, yea. I mean, I've blown guys before."

He shouldn't have said that. Immediately, my mind, and my cock, began to
imagine it. Some guy, maybe mid-30s like me, leaning back on a bed- no, a
couch- while Dade's long blonde-n-blue hair fall over his face. His mouth,
warm and wet, trying to cover his teeth as he slides his lips down a hard,
veiny, 7" shaft. His hair tickles as it slides along with him, gently
brushing against the recently-trimmed italian pelvis. As he goes further,
his lips push the foreskin down, and the man on the couch shudders.

Wait, why? John, stop! Snap out of it.

I clear my throat, and shift in my chair. Little John was reacting. What?

"So, what was the black thing? Like, a hair-tie or something?"

Dade laughed, this time, a full relaxed laugh. "Nah, it's a junk ring."

I must've looked puzzled. He rolled his eyes.

"It's not a gay thing," Dade ventured, pulling it back out of the
case. "See, like, when a guy is, you know... you put this on, and it makes
sure the guys.. stays.., you know."

It was clear. He wasn't used to this honest of a conversation. I admit, he
may have not said it was gay, but I've never seen, or needed, something
like that. Now I was curious. "I'm gonna need a bit more than that. Don't
worry, I won't tell no one. Just use actual words, ok?"

He nodded. "I mean, I don't know the right words. So like, when a guy gets,
you know, hard..." he stammered, "you put this on like, behind the
junk. Then, they stay, you know, hard... the whole time. And the finish,
you know, the finish- well, it's much more... explosive."

Now I was curious. In all 24 years of my ability to get hard and fuck, I'd
never needed a `thing' to help me stay hard. Was there some weird things
with gay-sex-stuff?

I decided to level with him. "I gotta be honest, I don't get it,"

I was about to continue with my thought about never needing something like
that, when he decided to blow my mind. "I can show you how it works, if you
want," he said. His eyes didn't meet mine. Did he just offer...

"I mean, you have to be hard, but..." he looked at my crotch. He had me
there. There was nothing about this conversation that had given me a
break. I was hard, and my boxers under these pleated khakis didn't hide a
thing.

I blinked. "Oh, Dade, I don't think that's.. I mean, I can't just... and
you're only 16... and I'm not a hom- gay guy.."

He dropped the bag to the floor, and left the fleshy ring around his
fingers. He dropped to his knees, and his chest made contact with my
legs. I was frozen.

"You're already hard, John," he reasoned. "Just try it. They are fun!"

I didn't protest. He inched closer, his hands now on my thighs.

Then, I closed my eyes when he reached for my belt.

I didn't breathe when his soft, thin hands pulled at the zipper.

I stared at the ceiling when he whispered `lift your ass', and my pants
slid down.

In seconds, it happened. Before I even knew it, this boy - this cute,
good-smelling, smart boy - had managed to get the lower half of my body
hard and naked, in front of him.

"It's bigger than I thought," he whispered.

I couldn't look down. I forced my mind to think about it. A hand, other
than mine, or my wife's, was now around my shaft. The 7" uncut buddy that
had been with me so long, now slightly different with it's two small
incisions underneath - were being handled- no, fondled- by a pair of soft,
gentle hands.

He lifted the underside of my balls, and soon, I felt a spongy stretchy
cord behind them, and at the base of my dick. I had to look.

I had no words for what I saw. My dick, was harder than I'd ever seen
it. At the base, a black band. My balls, which I'd never really concerned
myself with, were now pushed very forward. I was, actually, pretty turned
on by that. My dick involuntarily pulsed. In that moment, a tingle shot
from my shaft down and behind my balls.

"So, that's a new feeling," I breathed, not really to anyone in
particular. Perhaps it was the weird situation I was now in, but that
feeling... just made me harder.

Dade smiled, and I knew at that moment, I was beyond the point of no
return. His hands, still at my thighs, crept up to my shaft. He pulled
slowly at the foreskin with a loose fist, and my eyes rolled back in my
head. His hands began to work my cock, up and down, slow, so slow. My legs
widened, inviting him in. No one had touched me like this in years!

"You like it, John?" He whispered. I couldn't respond. What could I say? I
wasn't gay, but this kind of attention...

"Don't worry," he continued. "It's not gay to let someone get you off."

My eyes shot open, and I looked down at him. I could feel his breath, as he
spoke. His mouth had moved in, and without warning, slid down.

My whole body tensed as his warth engulfed my cock. My eyes, now wide with
attention, couldn't believe that this boy, half my age, had almost all 7"
inside his throat.

"Woah, Dade," I warned, pulling my body back. But I was trapped. The chair
was unforgiving, backed completely against the filing cabinets, and with my
legs wide, he had full control. "You gotta, stop...Dade..."

But he didn't stop. His eyes met mine, and his lips pulled my foreskin back
with him. The sensation was thrilling. He pulled off my cock, and I could
see the spit from his throat glistening on my tip. "Just relax, John. I
told ya, I've done this before."

My hands went to his shoulders. Now was the opportunity. His face was
flush, and he was getting ready to slide back onto my dick. I felt myself
pulse again. Now is my chance. I could just push him back.

When his lips touched the tip, I could have pulled him off.

When he flipped off his hat, letting his hair fall, and guided my hands
from his shoulders to the back of his head, I could have pulled away.

When my hands instinctively slid their way through, interlocking into his
strawberry-shampoo-smelling hair, I could have yanked him off my dick.

And when I felt his mouth. His throat. His tonsils. When my dick forced me
to close my eyes. Tighten my grip. Rock my hips to his rhythm.

I could have stopped it.

"Oh, fuck," I groaned. I should stop this. My hands held his head, his
neck, and my body began to slide in and out. The warmth if this boy's
throat was too much.

He made no complaints when I pushed in deeper. He didn't gag when I held
him tight to my pubic bone. Something no one has ever let me do. Is it
possible? Was I getting harder?

I pulled him back, hard. My hips had been thrusting at his face, and I was
getting close.

He gasped for air, tears running down his face. I pulled my hands from his
hair, a feeling of shock hitting me. I was raping this boy's mouth!

He swallowed hard a few times, and wiped his eyes. "Why'd you stop?" He
asked. Genuinely, he looked disappointed!

I looked down at my dick, then at him, in disbelief. "Dade, you couldn't
possibly have been able to breathe..."

Then, he laughed. "Of course, not. That's what gets a guy to cum!"

I blinked. He pulled my hands back to his head. I resisted a little, but it
was so soft...

"John, I told ya. I know how to do this. Guys want it deep and they want no
interruption. So..."

He slid back to my shaft faster than I could react, and my whole body
shuddered. In no time, his throat had my whole dick inside. And it was
working. I was getting close.

"Ok, Dade - I mean, ohhhkay..." My grip returned to his hair, and I felt
his mouth open wider. I pulled his head back, then forward. My hips began
to rock on their own, again, and soon, I could feel my balls
tightening. The strap around me got tighter, and I felt harder than ever. I
started at him. He was straining. His face was red, and his eyes were
watering. With each thrust, I felt his small frame lurch a little. It was
too hot to take, and my body began to tighten.

"I'm gonna cum, Dade. You want it? Huh?" I grippped his hair harder. Unlike
my wife, he was taking the abuse. I was pumping him hard, fast. He had only
milliseconds to catch his breath between each thrust.

I felt so powerful. This... mouth, this gay kid... this sexy face... was
taking my 7" batter than any girl I've ever felt. I couldn't help it. My
primal instincts kicked in. I got faster. I needed to hear him say it. I
needed him to WANT my cum.

"You want this load, do ya?" I repeated. I pulled him off my cock, and his
mouth made a smacking sound, and he inhaled deep. His lips were covered
with saliva, maybe some pre-cum. He looked like a porn whore... and it was
perfect.

"Yeah," he gasped, "Please John... I want it so bad..."

That was all I needed. I pulled him back to my lap, and shoved all the way
in. This time, he gagged. Yeah, gag on it. I thrust back and forth, and it
hit me. I was gonna cum. I loosened my grip on him, and he took over
immediately. I felt both of his hands wrap around my legs. He pulled back,
and looked in my eyes. He was giving me the ok?

His head shoved itself down, and I couldn't resist. I grabbed his skull and
held him in place. I stifled a groan as shot after shot of my cum began to
shoot inside him. My dick was past his tongue, and I could feel him pulling
back. He wanted a taste. But I wasn't ready. My pulses continued, and his
cough with each pump let me know he was getting a mouthful. My grip held
him tight, and my body was too tense to stop. My eyes were slammed shut,
and all I could feel was the intense wave of orgasm that was washing over
me.

After the 4th spurt, my body relaxed; I let go of his head, and he pulled
back, gasping a bit more.  But he wasn't done. The tip of my cock was now
surrounded by his warm lips, and I rewarded him with 2 more pulses of
cum. He wanted it all.

It had been almost a month since I'd had sex, and with work so crazy, I
couldn't even tell you how long since I jerked it. The release I felt was
immense, and it wasn't until his tongue twirled on my now
increasingly-sensitive head that I came back down from my high.

"Whoa, there," I said, shifting back. He got my meaning, and his hands went
to my shaft. As if I was doing it myself, he pulled lightly and carefully
until the head of my slowly softening dick was covered again.

He didn't say a word when he reached for the dish towel in our backup stock
shelf.

He didn't say anything as he wiped me clean, then wiped his face clear of
the stream of gagged-tears.

I had to break the tension. "So, Dade, uh... That was- I mean, I-"

He reached to me, pulling the thick black ring from my 4" soft shaft.

"Don't worry, John. It was all me. No one's gonna know. Thanks for letting
me."

Wait, sure, I didn't want people to know - but he was thanking ME?

"Uhm, what?" It was all I could say. He had taken off the ring, and my body
suddenly felt much... looser.

"Yeah, I mean," he shrugged. "There's not much chance for, you know, gay
guys... to play."

I stood, slowly reached down and pulled up my pants. After thinking it
through, I re-did my belt.

"You know, I think I should be thanking you," I chuckled. "I can't say that
I've ever had anyone- I mean, anyone- who could take me like that. So,
yeah. Not gay, but that was pretty, well, you know what you're doing."

We smiled at each other, and I realized what really happened. I mean,
really. A gay guy, with a better throat than any woman I've ever met, just
gave me the best blowjob of my life - at work. By a 16 year old.

He unlocked the door to the office, leaving me alone. Finishing his shift,
he left without another word to me.

I came back the next week, and things were back to normal. We had a full
staff again, and as always, there was a note from Dade, this time on bue
paper with white ink.

` John, Things are better. Payroll is in the safe. Orders made it on
time. New hires are trained, basically. I'll watch them. I'm done
double-cooking, since Alex is back on day-shift.  Nothing really crazy to
report.

Dade

PS. The Pager guy was a bust. He just wanted to show off his car and
upgrade my plan. But, that day wasn't a total loss. `

I blinked at the last sentence. I had to agree. That was a great day.

We hired a new Manager about 6 weeks later. Dade went back to school full
time, leaving our diner. I lost track of him soon after. Although I never
told another soul about our time, the memory was amazing. And, on the rare
times that my wife would blow me, I would imagine the feel of my hands in
that long, bleached hair. I'd think of that wet warm throat. I'd hear that
voice say, "Please, John - I want it so bad," And each time, I would
cum. Hard.

Thanks, Dade.

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