Chapter 4

Most of the jobs Melinda had circled in the classified section of the morning paper were taken by the time she applied for them. Her remaining choices were limited. There was a position as a waitress in a Greek restaurant in Staten Island which was too far to travel. There was a part-time job at a luncheonette in the Bronx, but the pay was barely over the minimum wage. That left just one last prospect at a sleazy diner on Twelfth Avenue in the Fifties, a pit stop for local dock workers, construction crews and truckers. With no alternative, Melinda applied.

The proprietor of this ignoble establishment was a fat, bald, disagreeable man named Leo who was so impatient he only asked Melinda three questions: "Have you done this kind of work before?"

"Where?" and "When can you start?" She answered satisfactorily, was told she had the job and was instructed to report the following morning.

No one prepared Melinda for the hectic duties or the lecherous attitudes of some of the customers. Although Gladys, another waitress, warned her of the occupational hazards as they were changing into their uniforms.

"Most of the guys who come in here are just harmless flirts, polite family men who just enjoy a little repartee," Gladys said in a nasal voice mispronouncing the last work. "But some of them are real slobs. All they want to do is pinch your ass."

Melinda couldn't imagine anyone wanting to pinch Gladys' ass since she looked about sixty years old and had the figure of a male wrestler. Still, Melinda heeded her words of caution. "I'll watch out for myself," she assured her.

Her first day got off to a fine start. Both behind the counter and at the tables, Melinda coped efficiently and courteously with her customers, garnered a few compliments and more than her share of generous tips. It wasn't until lunchtime when things got a bit uncomfortable. Four young hardhats seated themselves in a booth and proceeded to disturb the otherwise sedate atmosphere with their unruly behavior and loud bantering.

After they had examined their menus, Melinda approached this motley crew to take their orders. Their eyes lit up at the sight of anything remotely female and the boldest of the four, a grinning, gum-chewing stud with curly blonde hair licked his lips.

"Ready to order?" asked Melinda, her pen and pad ready.

"Sure," he replied, staring at her breasts. "What can I have?"

Melinda shrugged. "Anything you like."

He looked up at her and raised an eyebrow. "Anything?"

His pals snickered like schoolboys and nudged each other.

"Anything on the menu," Melinda responded coldly.

"Are you on the menu?" he playfully persisted.

Melinda lowered her pad and sighed. "Listen, fellas," she said. "Gimme a break. This is my first day on the job and I'm trying to impress the boss."

"Well, you sure are impressing us," the rude one remarked with a smile.

"Aw, come on, Mike, leave the girl alone," one of his friends chided.

Mike's smile narrowed just a bit. "I'm only having a little fun," he claimed. "Besides, I can't make up my mind what I want to eat." He picked up the menu and studied it again. "I mean, the chicken looks good, but should I have a breast or a leg?" As he spoke he glanced inconspicuously at Melinda's well-proportioned figure and drew stifled giggles from his buddies. "Or maybe ribs," he considered, checking out Melinda's compelling curves. "Trouble is ... I want something mouthwatering," he declared, staring directly at Melinda's crotch. "Something raw, hot and juicy."

Seething with anger, Melinda turned and started to walk away. "Let me know when you make up your mind."

But Mike quickly reached out and caught the hem of her skirt. "Whoa. We know what we want," he told her. "Beefburgers, fries and beer."

"How do you want your burgers?" Melinda asked, jotting down the order.

"Well done. And toast the buns."

"Got it," said Melinda, quickly scribbling.

As she walked off, she overheard Mike quip, "I'd love to stick some beef between her buns." Hearty laughter followed her into the kitchen.

When she returned later with the food, Melinda was more subdued. As she placed the plates on the table, she had to bend over and in doing so, gave the boys a breathtaking view of her delectable cleavage.

"Mm, sure looks scrumptious," Mike remarked.

Melinda straightened up and kept an expressionless face. "Enjoy your meal," she muttered, then turned to leave.

"Ah, Miss...." Mike called after her.

Melinda paused and slowly returned to the table, an exasperated look on her face. "Yes, what is it?" she asked sharply.

Mike smiled innocently. "May we have some ketchup, please?"

She had forgotten to put a bottle on the table. Embarrassed of her hostile behavior, she quickly apologized, "Oh, sorry." She snatched the ketchup from another vacant table and placed it in front of Mike.

"That's all right," he replied smugly. "After all, it is your first day on the job."

Silently fuming, Melinda rushed into the kitchen to pick up another order. "Those guys are animals! " she complained to Gladys. "Especially that blonde smartass!"

"Yeah," Gladys agreed. "I know who you mean. Those guys always give us a hard time. But if you play along with them, they tip pretty well."

"Play along with them?" snapped Melinda disdainfully. "They're a pack of leering wolves."

"So what? Give them what they want."

"They want me! Preferably for dessert!"

"Shake some tail," Gladys outrageously advised. "A sexy smile, a wink. It works wonders. They'll let up on you and you'll be richer for it."

"I'm a waitress, not a whore," Melinda indignantly maintained.

Gladys smirked. "Honey, we're all whores." Then she picked up an order and left.

Melinda was momentarily astonished, then considered Gladys statement and realized she wasn't too far off the mark. It wasn't the first time she had encountered obnoxious customers and surely not the last. With the paltry sum she was being paid to take this abuse, Melinda depended heavily on her gratuities.

Awhile later she returned to the table with an entirely different attitude and pleasantly inquired, "How is everything here? You boys okay?"

Her sudden friendliness took all four of them by surprise. Even Mike was at a loss for a clever comment. The best he could do was stammer, "Ah ... we're ... we're fine."

Melinda flashed her brightest smile, as if auditioning, and sweetly declared, "If you need any thing at all, just give me a call."

Speechless, they all watched as she walked away, noticing the graceful sway of her hips.

Melinda's performance paid off, for when they left, the four hardhats left a hefty tip. "Thanks, fellas," she chimed as they shuffled out the door. "Come back real soon."

Mike paused in the doorway and returned her teasing smile. "That's for sure," he promised.

Melinda managed to get through the week without any major mishaps or hassles, although her first paycheck and tips were barely enough to provide for her needs, much less help her to pay off the money she owed to Pyne. Still, it was better than being unemployed. She didn't see Mike or his friends again until a few weeks later when he showed up alone one evening.

The place was nearly deserted. Leo was busy in the kitchen, Gladys had gone home for the night and there were only two customers at the counter. Melinda was twenty minutes from quitting time when Mike walked through the door and sat down in a booth at a far corner of the diner.

She brought him a menu and casually informed him, "We have a special tonight-turkey platter with mashed potatoes and gravy."

"What I want is not on the menu," he just as casually replied, stripping her with his eyes.

"Come on," Melinda groaned. "Let's not start that again. Can't we keep it friendly?"

"That's exactly how I want it," Mike maintained. "I want us to be really friendly."

"Sorry," said Melinda, "I'm not interested. Now, if you'd like to order...."

Mike shook his head, reached into his pocket and withdrew a fifty dollar bill. He placed it on the table, looked up at Melinda and asked, "Interested in that?"

His bluntness flustered her. "You can't mean...."

"Look," he said, "I don't like playing games with women. When I see one that turns me on, I do whatever it takes to get her." He slowly reached out and touched her thigh just above the knee. Melinda flinched, but made no effort to remove his hand. Instead, she glanced nervously over her shoulder to see if anyone was watching. Fortunately, the two customers at the counter had their backs turned to them and were too far away to hear the conversation. "I'm willing to pay for it," Mike declared, moving his hand under her dress, up the thigh of her sheer pantyhose.

Melinda closed her eyes and bit her lip. She was strangely enticed by his proposition and his senuous touch, finding it hard to offer even token resistance. He was rather handsome and if he was mean, it only enhanced his sexuality. The offer was out of the question, but undeniably tempting.

"Look at me," he gently commanded.

Melinda opened her eyes and stared into his.

"Fifty dollars," he smiled. "It would take you a week to make that much in tips. All I want is fifteen, twenty minutes alone with you. And I promise ... you won't be bored."

Just as his hand reached her crotch, Melinda grabbed his wrist and forced it away. "I'm not a hooker," she told him.

He grinned. "That's what makes it exciting."

His words sent a shiver through Melinda. She looked at the fifty dollars on the table and carefully considered the offer. There didn't seem to be much difference between fucking Mike for cash and fucking Julius Huxton for a part in a play, except with Mike she'd have something to show for the effort.

"If anybody finds out...." she warned.

"Nobody will," Mike assured her. He slid the fifty dollar bill to the edge of the table. "Take it."

"I get off in fifteen minutes," Melinda told him, pocketing the cash.

"Good. Bring me a cup of coffee," he ordered. "I'll meet you outside later."

Melinda nodded and backed off.

"Oh, one more thing," he said. "Keep the uniform on, but take off the pantyhose."

Melinda couldn't help but smile at his titillating request. She was actually going to go through with it and worse than that, she looked forward to it with enthusiastic anticipation. Mike reminded her of a boy she once dated back in her hometown in Pennsylvania, an arrogant lout who worked as an auto mechanic at a local gas station. His name was Bruce, but he insisted on everyone calling him Skip. He'd take her to drive-ins and secluded parking spots, anywhere that they could be alone and could use each other to indulge their adolescent lust. It was with Skip that Melinda learnt the pleasures of the flesh without the trappings of a loving relationship. What attracted her most to Skip was his callously aggressive if not necessarily brutal approach to sex, an unpretentiousness that was as strangely reassuring as it was excitable. He'd assert his masculinity in simple-minded, macho fashion, always smelling of either beer or sweat, ridiculing her opinions, referring to her in profane terms like "bitch" or "cunt," forcing her to submit to humiliating acts, the most memorable of which was the time he drove her out to the woods, tied her spread-eagled to the ground, blindfolded and gagged her, stripped her, fucked her and left her there for an hour while he drove back to town. When he returned, he fucked her again, but she had no way of knowing whether it was him or a stranger who had found her in so vulnerable a position. Later he would laugh about the incident and although Me linda pretended to be upset, she actually enjoyed the terrifying experience.

When another waitress relieved her, Melinda slipped into the rest room where she peeled off her pantyhose and stuffed it into her handbag. She freshened up before her rendevous, brushing her hair, applying a new coat of lipstick and dabbing herself with cologne. She then hurried outside where she spotted Mike waiting in a doorway down the block. She joined him and they headed west to Eleventh Avenue where there was a construction site on the corner.

Mike led her through a space in the wooden barriers that bordered the property and held her hand as they descended carefully through the dark to an excavation where they were concealed by mounds of dirt.

"How romantic," Melinda sarcastically remarked, glancing around at a stack of drain pipes, a bulldozer and an enormous derrick.

"Come on," said Mike, tugging on her hand.

"Where to?" she asked.

"My crane," he replied proudly, referring to the derrick. "You can't be serious."

Mike placed her hand on the bulge in his crotch. "You're serious," she said.

He lifted her off the ground and onto the derrick's long wheel, then hopped aboard. He unbuckled his belt, unzipped his fly, dropped his pants to his knees and sat down inside the machine.

"Park your pussy on this, baby," he said, holding his swollen cock straight up.

With a grin, Melinda hoisted her black skirt to her waist, straddled his thighs and slowly lowered her cunt onto his lap, absorbing the full length of Mike's stiff dick.

"Mmm, yeah!" he moaned approvingly. "Hot and tight! Just like I want it!" He reached up and unbuttoned Melinda's white, ruffled blouse, delighted to find that her bra had a snap in the front. He unfastened the clasp and filled his hands as her tits spilled from the cups.

While Mike nursed on her nipples, Melinda bounced up and down on his crane. "Slowly," he advised her and she complied, writhing and grinding at a patient pace, rising to the head of his penis, then sliding down to his balls, the strain of his raw shaft against the walls of her vagina igniting a short fuse of desire within her.

"Ever get fucked like this before?" he asked, tonguing her tits.

"Once," Melinda breathlessly replied, "in the Tunnel of Love."

"You're shittin' me," Mike skeptically scoffed.

"No, really," she swore. "It was at an amusement park in Pennsylvania."

"Tell me about it," demanded Mike. "Gimme all the dirty details."

"Okay," said Melinda, talking while she pumped on his plump pecker. "I was seeing a boy named Skip, a horny bastard like you. He liked to take me places where we could be alone and he could get into my panties, like at drive-ins and abandoned parking lots, in cornfields and deep in the woods. Once we even made it in the dugout of a baseball field at two in the morning. But one of our favorite places was in the Tunnel of Love. That was dangerous because even though it was dark in there, you never really knew when the ride would be over. If we got carried away with ourselves, we could get caught. But that was what was so exciting about it. I used to suck his cock and he'd come just before our car burst through the swinging exit doors into daylight. I had to swallow his cum to hide the evidence and he'd have to stash his prick and zip up his fly without anybody seeing him. One time his zipper got caught and he had to stand behind me getting off the ride."

"Bet you loved sucking his cock," said Mike, flicking her nipples with his tongue.

"I sure did," she murmured in his ear, knowing it was what he wanted to hear, "but not as much as I loved taking it in the cunt."

"I can dig it," laughed Mike, cranking her cunt with his able cable. "Tell me more about the Tunnel of Love."

"Once I refused to go down on him, so Skip reached under my skirt and ripped off my panties. Then he ate out my pussy and it was the wildest experience I ever had. Ghosts and goblins were popping out of nowhere, left and right, while this long, wet tongue was licking my clit. I came in thirty seconds flat."

Mike growled with delight, squeezing her firm buns and driving his mighty muscle of manhood as far up as it would go. "More!" he insisted. "Tell me something really hot!"

"I saved the best for last," Melinda giggled. "Skip got tired of quick blowjobs and wanted to ball me in the Tunnel of Love. I made sure I didn't wear panties under my dress and once we were inside, Skip had me straddle him just like this."

"Yeah, yeah, go on," said Mike, fantasizing the scene, assuming the role of Skip, the darkness around them becoming the Tunnel of Love.

"His cock was so big, so long and hard," Melinda reminisced. "It ripped into me like a bayonet, but I loved it. He took hold of my ass and bounced me on his lap and in the dark I could hear the sucking noise of his meat sliding in and out of my slippery pussy...."

"Yeah! Yeah!" grunted Mike.

"And he started calling me every filthy name he could think of. Cunt! Bitch! Whore! Slut! Cock sucker! And it got me hot ... really hot! I was burning up with desire. Then I ripped open his shirt...." Melinda demonstrated by tearing open Mike's shirt. "And like a cat, I sank my claws into his chest." Her nails raked his breasts until Mike groaned with pleasure.

"His dick was churning inside of me," Melinda moaned. "I couldn't help it, I had to come. I let out a scream, the kind you always hear on those spooky rides, but it was a cry of ecstasy and nobody suspected a thing."

"Then what? Then what?" begged Mike, squirming and straining.

"Then I looked over my shoulder and noticed the red exit light approaching. Panicking, I got off of Skip and rearranged the hem of my dress. 'But I didn't come yet!" he cried. 'I'll jerk you off later,' I promised. 'The fuck you will,' he replied angrily, having just enough time to slip his cock back into his pants. When we got off the ride, Skip tried to drag me by the hand behind one of the concession stands, but I resisted. After all, I was satisfied. I didn't care if he still had a hard-on. Furious, Skip slapped my face and pulled me by the hair. Everyone stopped and stared, but assumed it was just a lover's quarrel and didn't want to get involved. He took me behind the stand where no one was around and in broad daylight forced me to my knees while he whipped out his big, fat prick. I opened my mouth to protest and he stuffed it with eight inches of stiff dick. He shoved it clear down my throat...."

"Oh, yeah! Yeah!" Mike ranted, titillated by every word she uttered, writhing with passion.

"He held my head tightly in his two hands and forced his cock in and out of my mouth. In and out, in and out, until he finally ejaculated, pouring buckets of scrumptious semen into my gullet. I had no choice but to swallow his creamy cum and I gulped it down as if it were vanilla custard. He just didn't stop. He kept spurting and spurting and I kept sucking it down to the last juicy, slimy drop!"

Mike went absolutely wild, howling like a dog in heat, spearing Melinda's cunt with a thrust of his throbbing cock. Trembling all over, glistening with sweat, he held her tightly and came like a bullet, unleashing his load in one great, splattering burst. Melinda followed a moment later, clamping his hips in the grip of her quivering thighs, her orgasm not as intense, but deeply fulfilling.

They embraced in the aftermath, Mike stroking her luscious limbs, Melinda nestling his head between her heaving breasts, sapping him of his remaing strength, absorbing the last of his diminishing lust.

A short while later, they disengaged, Melinda dropping her skirt and buttoning her blouse. While Mike lingered, too pooped to get up, she hopped off the derrick.

"Where are you going?" he asked.

"Home," Melinda replied, shouldering her handbag and starting to walk back up the hill that led to the street.

"You were great, babe," he called after her. "Let's do it again some time."

"See you around," she said over her shoulder.

That wasn't so bad, thought Melinda. In fact, the experience gave her an opportunity to brush up on her acting. The Tunnel of Love story was purely fiction, although it did sound like something Skip would have done. If there was anything Melinda was good at, it was improvising a yarn. That and something else.