A Late Affair Pt. 01

Well, I never thought I'd be putting a story into the "Mature" category! But here I am, a retired construction worker in my 'later years', recounting the relationship I had with a former co-worker who is waaaay younger than me. Best to get on with it.

I have been retired seven years, now. My wife retired four years ago, which gave me 3 years of 'alone time' at home after 46+ years of marriage. I went out to breakfast a lot, met with some guys I had worked with over the years, and generally just kicked around the house for the first year. Then money got tight. Reluctant to start digging too deeply into my retirement account, I took a part-time job with one of the local fast food places as a maintenance man. Which meant, basically, emptying the trash cans and keeping the parking lot clean.

I became friendly with the employees on my morning shift, as they relied on me to keep their area clean. There was always someone to chat with as we worked, and we got to know each other well. Employees came and went regularly, as they were mostly young, and this was an entry-level job. One such girl was Kacey, fresh out of high school. She was kind of gangly, immature and often late to work; but cute, like a lot of the girls. A lot of them, I think, thought of me as a father figure, and Kacey was no exception. In addition, we discovered early on that her great-uncles and aunt and I had known each other in high school! This gave us an added bond.

One day she came in late, obviously distraught. I couldn't help but notice the light bruising around one eye, despite a heavy application of makeup. She got a dressing-down from the manager, who didn't seem to notice, and went to work. Some time later she came to the back to have me open a box of hotcakes with my box cutter, and I took the opportunity to ask her what the matter was.

"Nothing," was her short answer.

"Okay, I replied, "but if you want to talk about it, let me know."

She hesitated, then hoisted two bags of frozen hotcakes over her shoulder. She looked at me and said, "maybe sometime." She gave me a wan smile and returned to work, but anyone could see her heart wasn't in it. She made a couple of mistakes on orders, and had to throw food away; a definite no-no in that business! Finally the manager advised her to clock out, take the day off and think about whether she really wanted to work there. I felt bad for her, as did her other friends on shift. She smiled bravely and clocked out.

I got off at 11:00, and ate the meal which I was entitled to. Then, as I pulled out of the lot and got to the corner, I saw Kacey standing alone. I beeped and rolled my passenger window down.

"Hey! You need a ride?" I enquired.

She shook her head once, then seemed to reconsider. "Hang on," she said, and came over to my window. She started to say something when a horn honked.

Another car had pulled up behind and I asked her to get in, then I pulled to the opposite side of the road. "What's up?" I asked, and all at once she began to cry. It was like an emotional dam had broken, after being bottled up all morning. It was a truly awkward moment. She was obviously upset, and I was confused and at odds as to how to comfort her, so I let her cry for a full minute before handing her a paper napkin from my console.

She breathed a deep sigh and dabbed at her eyes. "I... I'm sorry," she said, turning to me. Both eyes were red from crying, but her right eye also looked bloodshot. It was the same side of her face that bore all the makeup. "I'm a mess," she fussed, dabbing at her eyes. "I got up late, had a fight with my dad, and now I can't even make a fucking breakfast sandwich!" As she said that last, she began to cry again. I waited, watching her.

"Hey, don't beat yourself up," I said. "Chuck is a dick. He should have given you a few minutes to get yourself together. Everyone has bad days, Kacey."

Then I had to ask the question; it was the elephant in the car. "Did he put that shiner on your face?"

I thought she might begin crying again, but instead her gaze hardened as she looked straight out the windshield. "Fuckin' asshole!" she spat.

We spent another half hour on the side of road, her confessing about her dysfunctional family life and me consoling her from my side of the car. Finally I asked if she needed a ride home. I had seen her mom drop her off, and assumed that she didn't have a car.

"If you're going that way," she said. She looked up and down the road. "I don't guess the bus comes by very often, if at all," she said forlornly. "I'm kinda stuck."

"No you're not," I replied. "Give me directions and we'll get you home."

On the way, she told me her mother worked, and normally picked her up after she got off. "No matter how long I have to wait," she added. She was supposed to work a full shift that day, so her mother wouldn't be along for another three hours. So I got her home, told her to relax, and headed for my own house, awash in fears for the poor girl. Her father was obviously a brute for hitting her like that.

I didn't see her for a couple more days, then she came in, in a much better mood.

"Hey, Brian," she said, flashing me a huge smile. She hesitated and said, "thanks for the other day." I nodded and kept mopping the floor.

As I was eating my lunch that day before departing, she came around my little table and ran her hand across my shoulders as she headed for the ladies room. When she came out she came straight over to me.

"I really appreciate you taking me home the other day," she said. I told her that her eye looked much better and she blushed. "Thanks, but..." Her demeanor changed on the spot, as if she was now afraid.

"But what?" Her sudden look of fear unnerved me. "More trouble?" I guessed. Correctly, it seemed, as her eyes darkened at the mention.

"Yeah. But it's nothing," she added.

We talked, but not about that, and then she told me her break was over. She was due to get off at 1:00 anyway, she said. I asked her if she needed another ride home.

"I can wait for mom," she said. "It's only another couple of hours."

I told her I'd be back to pick her up at 1:00, and to let her mother know. She accepted immediately, obviously not eager to wait around, so I went shopping for nothing in particular and was back when she came out the side door. She grinned and walked to my car, parked just off-site across the road.

What was I thinking, I wondered, for not the first time that morning. As I watched her walk toward me, however, I understood that I was lusting after this girl! She wasn't the prettiest thing on the restaurant crew; she had mousy brown hair that hung to her shoulders, a few acne scars on her cheeks, and a body that was by no means lush. Yet, as she bounced along, my eyes went to her lean limbs, and I felt a stirring in my lap. I just had time to recognize that my feelings had gone from sympathy to something more when she reached for the door handle.

"Oh my god, thanks!" She beamed at me. "You're the best!" She flopped into the seat and leaned against the door and stared at me. I felt that she was appraising me with her eyes. I slowly sucked in my gut and squared my shoulders as I smiled at her. Without saying anything, I started the car, and we were off.

On the way, she informed me that it was her birthday; she was 18. I gave a little cheer and told her she was now considered an adult, so she could get a loan to buy a car, if she had any money saved. To which she replied, "my dad takes all my money."

"What? Why?" I was now wavering between my desire, and back to sympathy for this poor thing.

"It's okay," she said, "he says I owe it, for them feeding and clothing me."

The trip to her house was mostly completed in silence. She was embarrassed, or angry; it was hard to tell. I respected her not wanting to talk, but that only gave me more time to imagine her naked, to think about the feel of her against me. It was silly, I knew, but unavoidable.

It was another month before she first kissed me. I was dropping her off; my giving her rides home had become a semi-regular thing, and we had talked about a lot of things in both our lives. As I pulled up to her house, she leaned over and pecked at my cheek, then her hand gripped my arm and her lips moved around to my mouth. I was keenly aware that we were outside her house. I didn't know if anyone was around, so I kissed her back, but only fleetingly , then pulled away slightly.

"Hey," she said. She was still close, staring into my eyes. "It's okay. No one's here."

I was relieved that she recognized my reticence, then my mind went to the thought, does that mean she wants me to come in? Despite my own feelings, I couldn't imagine her wanting me in that way. I could feel her breath on my face and it aroused me, but I wasn't eager to be embarrassed by assuming and then being put down. I told her I'd better get going.

"Okay," she said in a teasing manner, "but you're probably gonna regret it later."

I did. God, did I! That night, in bed well before my wife, I jacked my cock slowly, swimming in my own thoughts of what could have been. When I grabbed a Kleenex to cover my cock and exploded into it, I felt like it was coming up from somewhere around my ankles!

I was nervous about going in to work the next day. Then I found out Kacey wasn't on the schedule, and I was... I don't know. Disappointed, I guess. I hadn't made up my mind yet if I wanted to pursue something further with her, but my groin had already made the decision. It seemed like a long shift that day.

The next day she was there when I got there at 7:00. "I worked the early shift," she told me, so you wouldn't have to wait for me to get off. That is, if you want to give me a ride home," she amended. "You don't have to."

I assured her I would, and she grinned at me. She looked so young to me when she grinned like that; it instantly had me thinking dirty thoughts. I tried to avoid thinking about her the rest of the shift, but she was always close, physically as well as emotionally. I caught myself looking at her ass as she stood at the line, assembling meals. Were those work pants tighter? They cupped her little ass cheeks so lovingly, I thought they must have been taken in. Her hips were not that wide!

I would soon have my hands on those hips, and so much more.