Let's Make a Deal Pt. 01

Amelia rushed into the console, clipping on her name badge and flashing Caleb an apologetic smile. The graveyard shift at a service station wasn't exactly the most glamorous job, but the pay wasn't terrible, and it was quiet. Most shifts she happily puttered about, stocking the chip shelves and reading fan fiction on her phone. But it was a struggle some days to wake in time for her shift.

And then there were days like today, when she had woken up in the middle of a delightful dream, wet and horny. A quick session of self-service had left her wholly unsatisfied. It was like eating fast food when craving a steak dinner with all the sides. It filled the hole, but it wasn't what she wanted.

Amelia sighed many times as she showered, an ache between her legs that couldn't be satisfied. She'd been so focused on her lack of a sex life that by the time she stepped out of the shower she was already late. In her rush, she'd forgotten to put on underwear, leaving the seam of her pants pressing against her in a way that was almost teasing.

"Sorry," she said, signing on. "Traffic you know."

Caleb peered out the window at the empty streets and then glanced at the clock that read twelve fifteen in the morning.

"Sure," he said.

He logged out and as he was slipping on his jacket, Caleb smirked over at her and spoke.

"The serial shitter is back."

Amelia's expectations of an easy night reading fan fiction in the storeroom shattered into a million tiny pieces. Her eyes flicked towards the toilet at the back of the shop. The door had been firmly shut since she arrived five minutes earlier. Who knew how long he'd been there, creating another masterpiece of misery for Amelia to deal with.

"Why did you let him in?" She hissed.

"Why were you fifteen minutes late?" Caleb shrugged.

He let himself out of the console and with another smirk and a small wave, left the shop. Silence filled the space he left, but if she listened hard enough, could she hear devastation coming from the toilet? She waited in trepidation, unable to leave her box of safety and wholly too scared to, even if policy allowed.

Inevitably, it happened. The door opened with an ominous creak and from within, a creature crawled out.

Well.

He was a creature in Amelia's eyes. Who else repeatedly painted the walls of a public toilet with their own excrement?

The creature crawled out and locked eyes with Amelia. A smile crept up his overly thin face.

"I left you a gift, my red-headed beauty," he said, his voice thick with phlegm. Then he slithered out of the store.

The dread drained away, leaving a hot band of anger crushing into her skull. Outside the serial shitter stopped under a streetlamp and turned back to her. He winked and blew her a kiss. She seethed.

"I'd get down and dirty with the devil just to watch that man's head explode."

"Deal."

Slowly, carefully, Amelia turned her head to the voice that emanated from behind her.

Without a doubt, the devil stood before her in her locked glass cage of minimum wage drudgery. She blinked rapidly, squeezed her eyes shut and peered out again.

Nope. Still there.

He looked like something off the cover of some 1960s pulp fiction novel. Crimson skin, yellow eyes and a twirl worthy moustache complete with a pointed black goatee. Her eyes trailed up to the ram horns that curled around, framing a handsome face and found that she didn't mind them. But this imagery usually always came with something else. Thankfully when she took a quick peak, he did not have goats' legs.

"Nice, to meet you, Amelia." He held out his hand, tipped with black claws. "Prince of Darkness at your service."

This was completely insane.

At some point, she must have eaten something that didn't agree with her and oh my god, why was she shaking his hand?

"Your, highness," she garbled out.

"It's so nice to be addressed properly," he said, leaning down and kissing the back of her hand. "Now then, let's get down to business."

He pulled her forward, wrapping a hand around her waist, and pressing his body to hers. A thrill shot through her, reminding Amelia just how long it had been since she'd been held by another person. And admittedly, for a cursed being from the underworld, he wasn't bad to look at. The horns were giving her ideas that until moments ago weren't even an option.

Was she really considering this?

"Woah there," she said, pressing her hands to his wretched chest before he could swoop in any closer. "Don't I have to, I dunno, sign a contract or something?"

"Too much fine print and red tape," he said with a wave of his hand. "I mostly work through verbal contracts these days."

The hand smoothed down her waist in a slow deliberate press, pausing at her thigh to squeeze just slightly before smoothing back up to rest on the rounded flesh of her ass. Shivering, her hands pressed against his chest again, but more appreciatively, her fingers running over defined muscles. Maybe her steak dinner was going to happen after all?

"Maybe we should go over the finer details?" She cleared her throat, her heart thumping. "What's in it for you?"

"I have needs too," he whispered, a smile on his face that was... devilish. "And." He leaned in brushing his lips over her throat, her pulse jumping beneath his touch. "I really want to pop that guy's head."

"Ok, alright just... nothing that'll hurt me, not freaky... like barbed dicks or anything."

"Amelia," he purred. "Do you really think I'd get return customers if I did anything that wasn't intensely pleasurable for them? Now," he said, dipping one hand down the back of her pants, the tips of his finger making contact with naked flesh. "Do we have a deal?"

"Fuck yes," she said, wrapping her arms around his neck. He traced a line up her neck, pressing soft kisses to her throat to the corner of her lips.

"Wait," she said, pulling back before their lips could meet. "I want the bathroom spotless."

"Done," he said, and claimed her lips at last.