Snow (sweptawaybayou) wrote,

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For those playing along . . .

by tesla321

"I asked him if he'd known Chris before," and he got real quiet," Snowy said.

They were in the overhang of the loading bay, smoking; a drizzle that was settling in for a downpour kept the women from going out farther.

Eliza shivered. "Quiet? Like how?"

"Not in a scary way, like he didn't want to talk," Snowy said.
"He never answered the question."

"So did y'all do it?" Jules asked. "Chicka boom boom boom?"

"With icing?" Eliza asked, hopefully.

"I hope you didn't put a lot of money on it," Snowy said, ripping the plastic from a box of cigarettes. "Just because management fucks me over, doesn't mean I fuck management."

"Shit, I'll make an exception."

"Vinnie," Eliza turned around, "you're a sick little ticket,
y'know? I will smack you down like a bug if you shake your tight li'l ass---what was I saying?"

"You were going to say how you're going to whip his sweet li'l booty if he doesn't stop playing bitch games with my doughnut fryer," Snowy said. She wasn't smiling.

Jules looked up from her cellphone. "Yeah, Big Dave ain't the only one who locks people in the cold storage."

"They never proved that," Snowy said with a girlish giggle.

"Sarah just text'd me. She says five dollars that Chris nails Dave in the manager's office."

Snowy and Eliza looked at each other.

"Too small," Snowy said decisively.

"Yeah. Definitely."

"What, the bet's too small? We let Stephanie throw in fifty cents!" Jules objected.

"No, the office is too small. They'd knock over the computer on the desk, the chair's tiny, and there's not enough room to kneel."

"I hate you bitches," Vinnie said.

"Hey, if you'd do James on the cake table, I could make some serious money," Eliza said. "Doubled if you smash a cake."

"Right here!" Snowy said. "Standing right here!"

"On Cake Lady's dinner break," Jules suggested.

"I can turn a blind eye as long as there's no wet spot," Snowy

"So hate you bitches," Vinnie repeated. He started to walk inside, and stopped. He looked over his shoulder. "How much


"Chris says you won't have a frank and open discussion with him," Joss was saying on the cell phone.

David and Alex were sitting in Alex's car, with the cell on "loudspeaker." The office was not sufficiently sound-proofed.

"The fuck?" David mouthed, looking at Alex. Alex rolled his eyes. Aloud, David said, "I speak to him every time he comes in. He's always fucking here, Joss. I can't drop everything and to kiss Chris' ass, and run the store, too."

"Just try, huh? Go to lunch with him or something. Get the little prick off my back, huh?"

"If you say so, boss man," Alex said. "We'll both go with him."

There was silence from the cell. "Oo-kay," Joss said.

"How can he possibly complain if your night and weekend manager meet with him? And buy his lunch?" Alex asked, in that pseudo-British accent."

"He will," Joss said.

Previous parts Here.


First thing this a.m. I get to work. Night stalker stocker Jeff unlocks the door for me. Asks about my vacation . . . then tells me that he's read one of my stories.


I asked . . . which one? He said "Playing Pool".

Oooookay. Welcome to the express train straight to the special hell.
All at once.

Seems I sometimes *facepalm* forget to take my sig off my email. Which contains the link to this lovely world. And I exchange email with his gf. *loves her*

But! Dude! He said he liked it! So nice to meet an openminded man. ::pets Jeff::

Now. Back to the Vegas!PWP. Which sounds vaguely like a cop show. And will have handcuffs. Just for stir_of_echoes. Because she has read the first part and *squeed* for me. Well, not like I could hear her, her being in England and me being in Kansas . . . but I have a vivid imagination.

::squirts icing on all of you::
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