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Work was a bitch that night. When I was a little girl I never knew my destiny in life would be waiting tables at the shit-hole bar I worked at 5 nights a week. Every night I slammed frosty mugs, which foamed over with cheap beer to men who smelled like corroded pussy and stale cigarettes.

When I got home, I did the usual, put my apartment keys down on the table by the door, surfed through my fridge for one of the many frozen dinners I thrived on and sat down in my favorite chair. To most people, my plush, boxy, ass refresher looked like a normal piece of furniture, but to me, it was my escape from a world of frustration. It was my porthole to the erotic thoughts hidden deep within my mind.

I removed my khaki's and dingy polo shirt with the bar's logo carefully embroidered into it, and tossed them in the hamper. I pulled off my bra and threw it on the floor next to me. Sitting down in my chair, I pulled my pink, lacey panties down my thighs to my feet and let them slowly fall to the floor.

The lights in my 5th floor apartment were off and I sat stationed in front of the huge, bay window at the far end of my bedroom. As I looked through the window, I noticed a light flick on in the apartment building across the street from mine. He was right on time like he was every night.

...

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stories in "sci-fi/fantasy"   |   all stories by "Stephanie S. Woods"