Dan walks into a bank. It is a Wednesday evening, but the bank is conspicuously (and predictably) empty. There are a few plastic ferns placed hastily in the corners of the room. Dan is looking to open a checking account. The woman behind the counter, a busty young brunette with her hair tied back and two inches of bra showing in the cleavage of her blouse, looks Dan up and down slowly before asking, “how can I help you,” as she bites her red painted fingernail between her teeth. Dan says, “I, uh, would like to, uh, open an account, uh, you know, for checking.” The teller opens the drawer below her and closes it in one quick motion. “Oh no,” she says, “it looks like I’m out of those brochures. Would you follow me into the back please, where I can give you everything you need.”
Dan lets out a soft, tired sigh and says, “well, I sure do hope you can give me something to be excited about.” Dan doesn’t know why he talks like this. As the teller steps out from behind the counter, showing a skirt short enough to show her uterus, she looks him up and down again and trails her hand down her neck and chest. She says, “oh, I don’t think that will be a problem.”
They head to the back room and the teller bends low at the waist in front of a cabinet she does not open, “now where are those brochures.” “Oh, I think I found what I was looking for anyway,” Dan puts his hand on the ass that has been thrust to the world. He knows he really hasn’t. He knows he really needs to open a checking account.
They have some sex in the back room. First, she goes down on him, then he goes down on her, then he fucks her while she lays on her back, then he fucks her doggy style. Then Dan, the veins straining on his forearms, masturbates into her hair while she moans wildly in delight. “I hope I’ve earned your business,” she says. He looks down on her, still kneeling on the floor and looking up at him with pouty lips. “Yeah,” he says, “and there’s my first deposit.”
Dan walks from the bank with sweat covering his back under his shirt and, once again, without a checking account.
* * * * *
Sally is laying across her couch, her hand aimlessly and absently playing her nipple through her shirt. The television is not on and she has nothing to read. Her living room, which she decorated herself, consists of a white couch, a glass coffee table, and a plastic fern by the door. The doorbell rings and Sally says, to no one in particular, “that must be the pizza.” She gets up from the couch and opens the door. “You must be the pizza guy,” she says to the guy with the pizza.
“Uhh, yeah. So, 16.83.” The pizza delivery guy looks either too tired to not be a little stoned, or too stoned to not be a little stupid. He opens the heat bag and takes the pizza box out, handing it to her with a reciept pressed between his hand and the box.
“Oh no!” Sally runs her hands over her breasts and skin tight shirt then turns to show the delivery guy her ass as she rubs herself over her skin tight shorts. “Where’s my wallet? I can’t find it!” Sally doesn’t really sound that worried. Sally pouts and puts her finger between her teeth. “Why don’t you come in a sec.”
“Uhhh.” The delivery guy seems uncomfortable as he takes one short step into her apartment. “Yeah, checks or whatever work too.”
Sally takes the pizza and puts it down on the coffee table. She opens the drawer in the table, which is empty, and looks under the middle couch cushion with no effort or luck. “Darn, I just don’t know where my wallet is.” She turns to face the driver and undoes the top button of her shirt while she attempts to purr at him, “do you think there’s any other way I can pay you?”
“Uhhh... checks, like I said. Or, umm, you could call in with a credit card.” He looks over his shoulder at his car that carries two other deliveries he’s supposed to make in the next fifteen minutes or else fucking Rich, his asshole manager, will write him up again. “I really need to get going though.”
“Really?” Sally has heard nothing he has said as she focused on the second button down, which was giving her some trouble. “You can’t think of any other way I can pay for my pizza?” Sally walks over to the delivery guy and puts her hand on his crotch.
“What the fuck lady!” He jumps back towards the door.
“Can’t we help each other out?” Her shirt is fully unbuttoned now, and she has begun kneading her breasts like they were made of bread dough.
“I just need sixteen bucks lady, I’m not trying to get into anything.” He thought about how much he and his clothes and his car always smelled like cheap pizza. “Look, if you just give me the pizza back I can just say you weren’t here, and if you find your wallet, you can call to...” His words trailed off as Sally slid her hand down the front of her shorts and started to rub herself. She was instantly moaning like captain of the varsity fucking team was going down on her. “Jesus Christ.” The delivery guy thought about how he really didn’t need this shit.
When Sally went over to him and dropped to her knees saying, “give me that hot sausage,” he turned and left, spitting under his breath, “every fucking crazy in the city needs a fucking pizza tonight.” He realized he didn’t take the pizza with him, and knew fucking Rich would be fucking pissed.
Dan lets out a soft, tired sigh and says, “well, I sure do hope you can give me something to be excited about.” Dan doesn’t know why he talks like this. As the teller steps out from behind the counter, showing a skirt short enough to show her uterus, she looks him up and down again and trails her hand down her neck and chest. She says, “oh, I don’t think that will be a problem.”
They head to the back room and the teller bends low at the waist in front of a cabinet she does not open, “now where are those brochures.” “Oh, I think I found what I was looking for anyway,” Dan puts his hand on the ass that has been thrust to the world. He knows he really hasn’t. He knows he really needs to open a checking account.
They have some sex in the back room. First, she goes down on him, then he goes down on her, then he fucks her while she lays on her back, then he fucks her doggy style. Then Dan, the veins straining on his forearms, masturbates into her hair while she moans wildly in delight. “I hope I’ve earned your business,” she says. He looks down on her, still kneeling on the floor and looking up at him with pouty lips. “Yeah,” he says, “and there’s my first deposit.”
Dan walks from the bank with sweat covering his back under his shirt and, once again, without a checking account.
* * * * *
Sally is laying across her couch, her hand aimlessly and absently playing her nipple through her shirt. The television is not on and she has nothing to read. Her living room, which she decorated herself, consists of a white couch, a glass coffee table, and a plastic fern by the door. The doorbell rings and Sally says, to no one in particular, “that must be the pizza.” She gets up from the couch and opens the door. “You must be the pizza guy,” she says to the guy with the pizza.
“Uhh, yeah. So, 16.83.” The pizza delivery guy looks either too tired to not be a little stoned, or too stoned to not be a little stupid. He opens the heat bag and takes the pizza box out, handing it to her with a reciept pressed between his hand and the box.
“Oh no!” Sally runs her hands over her breasts and skin tight shirt then turns to show the delivery guy her ass as she rubs herself over her skin tight shorts. “Where’s my wallet? I can’t find it!” Sally doesn’t really sound that worried. Sally pouts and puts her finger between her teeth. “Why don’t you come in a sec.”
“Uhhh.” The delivery guy seems uncomfortable as he takes one short step into her apartment. “Yeah, checks or whatever work too.”
Sally takes the pizza and puts it down on the coffee table. She opens the drawer in the table, which is empty, and looks under the middle couch cushion with no effort or luck. “Darn, I just don’t know where my wallet is.” She turns to face the driver and undoes the top button of her shirt while she attempts to purr at him, “do you think there’s any other way I can pay you?”
“Uhhh... checks, like I said. Or, umm, you could call in with a credit card.” He looks over his shoulder at his car that carries two other deliveries he’s supposed to make in the next fifteen minutes or else fucking Rich, his asshole manager, will write him up again. “I really need to get going though.”
“Really?” Sally has heard nothing he has said as she focused on the second button down, which was giving her some trouble. “You can’t think of any other way I can pay for my pizza?” Sally walks over to the delivery guy and puts her hand on his crotch.
“What the fuck lady!” He jumps back towards the door.
“Can’t we help each other out?” Her shirt is fully unbuttoned now, and she has begun kneading her breasts like they were made of bread dough.
“I just need sixteen bucks lady, I’m not trying to get into anything.” He thought about how much he and his clothes and his car always smelled like cheap pizza. “Look, if you just give me the pizza back I can just say you weren’t here, and if you find your wallet, you can call to...” His words trailed off as Sally slid her hand down the front of her shorts and started to rub herself. She was instantly moaning like captain of the varsity fucking team was going down on her. “Jesus Christ.” The delivery guy thought about how he really didn’t need this shit.
When Sally went over to him and dropped to her knees saying, “give me that hot sausage,” he turned and left, spitting under his breath, “every fucking crazy in the city needs a fucking pizza tonight.” He realized he didn’t take the pizza with him, and knew fucking Rich would be fucking pissed.
* * * * *
Dan was home, trying to concentrate on a book about WWII aircraft. The subject fascinated him, but he had trouble finding the time to sit and do anything. He made a bit of a ritual about the time he had to himself. He brewed himself a cup of relaxation tea, set a few dry bisquits out next to his worn grey couch. He took the book from its place on the couch-side table, finding the bookmark with his fingers and lifting the page slowly open, timed with the long, slow release of his held breath.
The door bell rang, almost on cue. Fuck you Dan thought, to whatever force in his life had decided he would never have peace. Fuck you for the fucking doorbell, and if this is another time when I have to... He opened the door to find a woman whose age, which showed in the corners of her eyes and lips, was forced awkwardly into a girl scout’s uniform and pig tails. Damnit.
Twenty-eight minutes later, he had already forgotten whatever meaningless excuse had gained her access to his home, or how she managed to almost instantly spill water down the front of her shirt, which was already nearly see-through. She took her shirt off and everything became a blur of every day of his life since he turned barely legal.
They had sex on his couch. She went down on him for a long time and he went down on her just long enough for her to pretend it was enjoyable. They fucked with him on top, then doggy style. She went on and on about how big his cock was and called him “daddy” even though they were roughly the same age. She went down on him some more and then jacked him off all over her face. Then she looked at him, blinking through the pain in her eyes and said in a falsely pouty voice, “does this mean you’re going to buy some cookies?”
As soon as she was gone, Dan decided he was too tired to read, and just went to bed.
* * * * *
Sally remembers class in 4th grade when they brought out stuffed bears to show all the kids where they shouldn’t let anyone touch them. One of her more precocious classmates asked if touching someone’s special place is where babies come from, because that’s where he heard babies come from. “Well,” the teacher raised her eyes to just above the heads of her students so it looked a little like she was looking at them, “sort of. Babies come when a man and a woman have sexual intercourse.” Another student, little miss tries-too-hard in the corner, asked, “what’s that?”
Sally never raised her hand in class, but she knew the answer to this one. The teacher called on her, “Sally?,” accidentally sounding surprised that Sally knew anything. “Intercourse is when the girl bear puts her head between the boy bear’s legs, and then the man bear puts his head between the girl bear’s legs, but for not as long. Then the boy bear gets on top of the girl bear, then the girl bear flips over so the boy bear is behind her, and then the boy bear sprays stuff onto the girl bear’s face and that’s where babies must come from.”
Sally was sent to the Principal's office. He had a fake fern by the window behind his desk, and Sally thought it was pretty.
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Headed to Great Taste?
Absolutely.
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