The Diner

The sun glared off the asphalt and through the windows. The diner was deserted, and the harsh light of noon only served to emphasize that. Irma gazed down at the cherry of her cigarette, watching the red-orange glow eat it slowly. She tapped her fingers in time with Peggy Lee's sympathy, knowing just how it felt to walk the floor and watch the door. Boredom was a way of life out here. The clock on the wall read 2:30, and Irma had to sigh. Another four hours in her shift, another four hours with nothing to do. Neither Stavros the cook nor Ricky the busboy had bothered to show up today. Irma suspected something her mother had told her about Greek men, but it didn't really matter. They'd only made four plates up all week. Irma was confident that she could handle anything that came up, and she knew nothing would.

Outside, the highway stretched to the horizon in both directions. There were places to be at either end, but the diner was smack in the middle of nowhere. There were signs for Hidden Valley, a housing project which never got started, splashed along the side of road. Irma supposed that's why they'd built the diner here. The signage was faded now and shovels had never gone in the dirt. But somehow, this place kept its doors open. Part of Irma was just glad for the pay cheque. Part of her hoped this pseudo-prison would burn to the ground.

She rolled the radio dial from the jazz station to a rockabilly one, and watched a car in the distance kick up dust in time with the beat. She'd already polished all the flatware, cleaned out the drain's trap, and refolded all the napkins. Irma had nothing left to do but compare the trails of cigarette smoke to the rising cloud of the oncoming car. She indulged in mild surprise as the blue chevy wheeled into the dirt lot. There'd be something to do afterall. She stubbed out her cigarette, checked her uniform, and tore off the used page of her orderbook.

He was tall, easily over six feet. His hair was jet black, with the first subtle traces of salting. His face was angular, with a bristle of a beard, suggesting he'd been on the move for a few days. His denim jacket wore the dust of the dry summer air, and his slacks were rumpled. His eyes were slightly red, and circles suggested themselves in his sockets. His gaze was still sharp though, as Irma felt him drink in the details of the place. He sauntered up to the counter and sat down.

Irma had to admit that he was a fair sight prettier than the few regulars they had out here. Still, Irma reminded herself, he was just a customer. She came over, adjusting the wide, stylized glasses she wore, "What can I get you, sweetheart?"

"Well, aren't you familiar?" He replied, flashing a her a playful smile. His whole face ignited with it, and Irma felt her heart skip a beat. He was gorgeous. You could miss it under the travel he wore, but he was an immaculate creature. Irma flushed, and he laughed softly, "Coffee, darlin'. Black."

"Coming right up." She said, composing herself. She grabbed the pot and scolded her foolishness. This man was not here to sweep her off her feet. And god only knew where he'd come from. She brought the coffee over, setting it down beside his manicured hand, "Anything else, Mister."

"Robert, Irma." He said reading her name tag, "You can call me Robert. And I'll just look over the menu for a spell, if you don't mind."

"Ain't like I got much else to do here, Robert." Irma replied as she stepped into the back. She undid a button on her blouse, releasing the heat Robert was inspiring in her. A flush had risen on Irma's petite chest. She fanned herself for a few moments, trying to let her mind go blank. She heard the song on the radio change, which made her worry she was taking too long, being too conspicuous. She grabbed a washcloth and headed out the far door to busy herself with tables that already shone in the summer sun.

She stalked through the dining room, keeping herself to the corner away from Robert. She heard Johnny Cash strumming through the radio, her own swishing across the surface of the tables, and the occasional slurp of Robert's coffee. She felt possessed by sexual tension. "I must be imagining it." she told herself, "it's just a foolish dream. Stop it!" Her mind tried to assert her reality, that the mundane, banal repetition. She was just being silly. Irma tried to listen to her common sense, but her spirit yearned for another possibility. She had stopped wiping the table, though she hadn't realized it. She could feel Robert's eyes upon her, and she flushed with embarrassment. She rounded on him and snapped, "Looking at something, Robert?"

"Uh, you have a run in your stocking is all." he pointed at her left calf casually as he took a long drink of his coffee.

"Oh!" Irma squeaked and dashed into the kitchen. She brought her apron up to her face and squished her nose in humiliation. He was trying to be nice, and she'd been so rude! Silly girl with her silly dreams, and now Irma had probably cheated herself out of a tip. She stepped from the white heels she wore for work and slipped her stockings down. Thankfully, she'd shaved her legs that morning, so she could pull off the rest of her shift without a replacement pair. She had to apologise.

Irma, stockings unmindfully in her hand, drew a deep breath and pushed back behind the counter, "Robert, I'm sorry. It's just. Sorry. Nothing."

He looked her slowly up and down, evaluating something, but she couldn't tell what, "Go ahead," he urged, "tell me."

"It's slow out here. And a new face, it's just, disarming. And now I have to drive out to the pharmacy and get new stockings after my shift." Irma sighed and slapped her ruin garment down.

Robert looked the stockings over, "You know, there's probably a few things these would still be useful for. Do mind if I look them over?"

"Well, it's a bit odd," Irma considered it for a moment, then relented, "But of course. They're just stockings." She'd been so inconsiderate before, how could she deny him this odd, but innocent request.

"Still good as a bug screen, there's just the one run here." He pulled and tested the material, seeming to find satisfaction with them. "Still pretty strong. See." He tossed the torn leg up into the ceiling fan above the counter, and it wrapped about the blade, tying the fan up. Robert stood up and walked over to the front door.

"What's that supposed to prove? You're going to get that fan unstuck, Mister!" Irma exclaimed. What was with this guy? "Robert," she asked as he ignored her, "what are you doing?" Her heart pounded in her chest as he looked out the door, then slowly turned the lock until it clicked.

"Robert. We were being friendly here, but what are you going to do?" The sexual thrill she'd felt was subsiding into genuine fear of this man. He took off his jacket and tossed it aside. He wore a loose fitting jersey beneath, and he rolled up his sleeves. There were tattoos on his arms! And not the navy ones some of her brothers had. They might even be prison tattoos. She staggered back from the counter as Robert vaulted over it.

"I'm not going to hurt you, Irma. I'm going to show you what your stockings are still good for," he reached out and caressed her face gently, "and that you're good for much more than this." He turned his back on her, gesturing around to the diner. She could have fled then. She could have run out the back and got in her car. But fear and lust were driving into one another in an unstoppable torrent.

"What do you want me to do?" She whispered as he stepped closer. He flashed that intoxicating smile again, and she felt her last reserve of resistance melt. He eased the glasses from her face, revealing her sparkling green eyes. They contrasted beautifully with the dark flowing locks of her hair, which he unpinned and let fall over her shoulders. He gently took her wrists in his hand, and the stocking in the other. He laid a figure eight over her wrists, then wrapped them tightly. He tied them off so she reached up to the ceiling, her hips displaced backward by the edge of the counter. Irma pushed a reactive sigh from her lungs as he cinched her ties off. He walked back into the kitchen, disappearing for a moment. Irma's pulse raced, the uncertainty feeding her excitement. She heard the click of the rear door's lock, ensuring their privacy. She strained over her shoulder to smile at him as he returned.

He took her throat in his hand and whispered to her, "I can tell you've never been allowed to use your imagination, Irma. I am those wild dreams you suppressed and denied." He squeezed gently, and Irma leaned into it, hungry to relinquish control to this stranger. He stepped behind her, holding her throat firmly but sweetly. Robert untied her apron, letting it fall over her shoes. His free hand slid up her thigh and under her skirt. Irma was surprised by the purr of pleasure that rolled from her throat as his fingers traced the lacy line of her white panties. He explored her flesh and she revelled in it. She'd never imagined that a man's touch would feel like this, so rough yet sweet.

Her hips rolled back against him instinctively. Irma felt the hot, hard line of Robert's cock in his pants. It felt so good against her ass, her skirt now lifted up over her hips. She loved that she had caused his heat, and needed him to use her to its completion. Her hips ground into his, matching the rhythm of his gyrations. She was growing wet with lust. He slowly released her throat, stepping away. His fingers traced down her back, catching the waistline of her panties. He peeled them down slowly. Irma found her legs twitching in eagerness, trying to rid herself of any obstruction to his touch.

His breath was warm and soft against her skin. He leaned in from behind her, finding the swell of her moist lips, caressing them with his tongue. Irma had never even thought of such a thing! It was an electric, wet, sensual feeling, and it send tremors of orgasm shuddering softly through her body. He laughed at her as she sighed. It embarrassed Irma that Robert laughed at her, but the deep resonance of it sent another flood of desire through her pussy, and she pushed her hips back against his tongue. Robert's lips and tongue suckled and flicked her soft folds, and Irma felt things she'd never imagined possible. The heat building up inside her was incredible and wonderful and more than a little scary to her. She started to hyperventilate, when suddenly Robert's hand wrapped gently around her throat again. Her body responded instantly, melting against his surety and strength.

Her relieved sigh became a gasp of shock as Robert pushed two of his strong fingers into her sodden sex. She shivered and cried out, unintelligible. Her eyes lolled in her skull, and her lips were locked in a gasping "O". The heat inside her flowed through her limbs and she sagged on her bonds as orgasm wracked her body. Releasing all her tension, a flow of succulent ejaculate gushed from her pussy. Irma gave one last big cry as Robert's fingers pulled out, her pussy pushing hard and splashing her lust across the floor.

Irma was still catching her breath when she felt Robert picking her up from behind and turning her over. He laid her on the countertop. Her legs spread wide on instinct, showing off her puffy, twitching pussy lips. He had stripped down. His body was large and hard, his chest covered with a downy layer of dark brown hair. It ran like a highway down to his hips, where every line guided the eye to his massive, swollen member. Its circumcised head was fat and pink, a dribble of clear precum glistening against the light. Irma lifted her hips further, knowing that cock belonged inside her. He pushed in slowly but insistently, all the way to the hilt, spreading her out deep inside.

Irma's sexual need reignited in an instant, and she wrapped her legs about Robert as he drove the last inch in. He held himself deep inside her, taking her by the hair and pulling their lips together. They kissed deeply as Robert rolled inside her. She moaned into his mouth, and wanted nothing else than to be his.

Robert reached out and grabbed a small pairing knife. He sliced through her bonds, letting the tattered nylons fall from her wrists. She grabbed him by the neck, holding his cock inside her as she climbed up on him, kissing him hard. Tongues danced together as Robert unzipped her uniform, and pulled it hastily over her head. Irma in turn undid her bra, and tossed it across the room. She pressed herself into his large chest. The feel of his skin against hers was electric, and his cock was a font of pleasure impaling her.

He tossed her up and down on his cock, staggering to the wall and driving her against it. Irma moaned out in loud, unashamed lust. She squirmed and gripped, trying to deliver all the sensation she could to the dick which pulsed inside her. Robert slammed her hard against the wall. As she bounced against it she found her mouth on his shoulder, and bit it as yet another orgasm ripped through her body. Robert roared as he speared her cunt over and over, forcing her pussy to flow freely across his flesh.

She could feel Robert's balls tense up as she came back to her body. She was exhausted and elated and could do nothing more. He set her down, holding her in place by her hair as I stroked that fat, gleaming cock before her eyes. She looked up and saw the contortion of his face as he raced to cum. "Give it to me!" She pleaded, desperate, full of need. His dick twitched, then spat hot seamen over her face, painting her lips, and splashing across her small, delicate breasts. A fat bead rolled into her mouth, salty and sweet and delightfully filthy. She savored his flavor and moaned in gratitude. As he released his grip on her, she curled up on the floor.

Irma didn't know how long she'd been on the floor, but the light had faded through the windows and Robert had gotten dressed. He was smoking one of her cigarettes, swirling the last dregs of a glass of bourbon he'd found somewhere. "Good morning, sunshine." He beamed down at her. Irma smiled back.

"I have to go now, Irma." Robert said and he walked to the door. Irma panicked; she needed to stay with him now. She had given everything of herself to him in that moment of passion, and she needed to be with him now. She scrambled around for her glasses, finding them as he stood in the doorway, not looking back, "You don't have to stay here, you know." He said as he stepped out.

Irma grabbed the heap of her uniform and held it up to her naked flesh as she made for the doorway. Robert got into his car against the light of the setting sun. Irma's mind was racing, her heart pounding in her chest. She couldn't go back to the prison of this place. She couldn't live this life so ordinary any longer. She sobbed as he started the ignition. He sat behind the wheel for a moment, then looked out, back to the door of the diner. Irma held her breath.

Robert reached across his car and flung the passenger door open. Irma ran barefoot across the dirt lot, ignoring the sharp stones stabbing her feet as she went. Naked, with only a rumpled waitress' uniform, Irma dove into the car, and kissed Robert hard on the mouth. He kissed her back, and stroked her hair gently. He guided them from the lot as she settled in against his shoulder, unmindful of her nudity before him. "Where are we going, Sir?" she asked. Robert simply smiled.