The Goddess Ch. 04

Literotic asexstories – The Goddess Ch. 04 by LindsayMurray,LindsayMurray
Chapter 3Benny

My shift the next day started at ten, but I woke up at seven. I tried to sleep in, but Zach was playing music in his room, and I couldn’t sleep through Sick Puppies and Seether, even if it was playing quietly.

Layla was already here, and I could hear the shower running in the master bathroom. I knew she was taking care of Momma and getting her ready for the day. She would change the sheets and make the bed, run the laundry, and cook her breakfast. And if Momma had the strength, Layla would help her with some stretches and maybe do some physical therapy.

I checked my email to find Ryan had sent out the bar schedule for next week. I worked Tuesday and Wednesday night, and Saturday night, but that was it. I sent him a text asking if there were any other shifts I could pick up, but he didn’t answer.

Hauling my ass off the couch and tidying it up, I saw a letter on the table. It looked like it had been taped to the door. Layla had probably brought it in with her.

Sure enough, it was our rent renewal letter… and rent was going up by three hundred bucks a month.

Fuck, that’s a big jump in rent. But this was one of the affordable complexes in the area. I didn’t have a choice.

I groaned and folded the letter up, leaving it on the counter for my roommates to find it. I had ninety days to figure out how I was going to bring in even more money when I was barely making it now. But I didn’t have a choice. It was just me and Momma, and we didn’t have anywhere else to go. And I couldn’t let her go back to a home like the one she’d been in before.

Pulling my shoes on, I was about to head to the café when Brandon waved me down. “Hey listen, I need to talk to you.”

Fuck. He only needs to talk to me when something is wrong. “Sure, what’s up?”

“Holly and I… we’re getting serious, you know?”

“Sure.” He’s moving out. He’s moving out and I’ll need to find a new roommate in ninety days who is okay with me sleeping on the couch because my sick mother stays in my room.

“Well, we’re going to move in together. So… I know our lease is coming up… I won’t be renewing.”

I took a deep breath. “Okay.”

“This whole arrangement has been great,” he insisted. “Really. I appreciate it. But… She’s my girl, you know?”

“Look, I get it,” I said, lifting a hand. “I really do. Thanks for giving me the warning. Zach and I will figure it out.”

Brandon nodded guiltily, grabbed his backpack, and left.

Need to find a better job. Need to find a way to pay for Momma’s care. Need to find another roommate.

I looked at my watch. I had an hour and a half before my shift started. Before I left, I went in to see Momma.

She was sitting on the recliner in the bedroom, staring at the TV, her eyes unfocused. Her jowls drooped slightly, her dentures sitting on the end table. They didn’t fit at all, and she didn’t like to wear them. She looked ninety years old instead of her fifty without her teeth, her chin nonexistent and her lips sunken into her face.

But she was alive.

Her head turned when she heard me, and her eyes focused on me. She gave me a small smile. A little bit of happiness and relief coursed through me. She recognized me. Even if it was for two minutes, she recognized me.

“Hey Momma.” I kissed the top of her head. She grunted. “You okay?”

“Fine,” she slurred. She tried to say something else that sounded like, “late for school,” but I didn’t catch it all.

“Don’t worry, I’m on my way. You be good for Layla, okay? She’s taking care of you today.”

She nodded. “Layla,” she mumbled. Then she pointed at a photo on the bedside table, her hand shaking a little. “Layla.”

There was a photo of Layla wearing a set of blue scrubs and a stethoscope, with cute letters above that spelled out her name. It sat beside a few other photos, all labeled, for the days she couldn’t remember. I’d made one for Zach and Brandon in case she ever encountered them, and one of me wearing my GMU shirt.

I tucked the quilt on her lap up a little tighter. “Maybe when I get home this evening, I can read to you for a while, okay?”

When I met her eyes again, she looked at me like I was a stranger.

“Okay,” I said softly. “Have a good day, Momma.” I took my things and nodded to Layla before I left the room, swallowing the clawing in my throat.

***Since I had some time to kill before work started, I went by the gallery downtown. It was a little co-op with about fifteen or twenty artists. Some of it was kitschy and cute, and some of it was crap, but there was a painter and a pastel artist who were both incredible. I spent many hours staring at their work, relishing the colors, the lines, the symmetry, the composition… It took me back to a place where I felt like I had control over my life and my thoughts.

That morning, I met one of the artists as they were bringing in a new piece of work. Jeremy Hutchins was an oil painter, wet-on-wet, and he did phenomenal work with light and shadow. We chatted for a minute, and I felt like I was talking to a celebrity. Through our conversation, he picked up that I was an artist as well.

“You in school?” he asked me.

“I was… I dropped out last year. Probably won’t go back,” I shrugged. “Seemed like a waste of time,” I lied. Art school was everything I ever wanted, and I had forfeited a full scholarship by dropping out.

But Momma had been in a horrible car accident, and then left alone in an empty room with a nurse who hated her, in a care center that ignored her for too many hours…

I blinked and shoved away the memory of how I’d found her on Thanksgiving last year. It didn’t matter. She was safe and cared for now, even if she was toothless and couldn’t remember things ninety percent of the time. And I loved her, and would do anything for her… even if it meant giving up the best thing that ever happened to me.

Jeremy brought me back to the conversation. “It’s different for everyone. It wasn’t a waste for me… but I know a few buddies who left and started their careers. Why pay for a piece of paper that proves you’re an artist when you can just… make art to prove it, you know?”

I laughed humorlessly, but tried to hide it. “Yeah. Exactly.” I tried not to feel bitter against him, but it was hard. Sure, let me just go make some art. With all the extra time and money and mental space I have.

What I wouldn’t give to get my hands on some graphite and forget about everything for a few hours.

But supplies were expensive. I’d burned through the remainder of my school materials months ago and sold the expensive supplies for grocery money. I’d even sold some work for quick cash, though I hadn’t made enough to buy more than a gallon of milk and some eggs.

Jeremy and I talked for a little longer, and then I left him to rearrange his display to accommodate his new painting. On my way to work, I briefly considered going by an art supply store and grabbing a drawing pad and a few pencils. Just a little something to scratch the itch… but I decided against it. Art was useless when Momma needed food and pain killers.

I wondered if this was how she felt throughout my childhood when I was always asking for lunch out with my friends or birthday presents we couldn’t afford, and she was the one working two jobs to take care of me.

Instead, I got to Le Fleur early and sat at the corner table, searching Indeed and LinkedIn for job postings that might hire an unqualified nineteen-year-old college dropout and still provide a livable wage and healthcare.

It’s a fucking waste of time.

Healthcare was my biggest concern. Le Fleur was a small-ish franchise, and the owner knew my situation and allowed me to put Momma on my insurance plan. It paid for a little more than half of her at-home care, and I paid the rest out of pocket. It also covered her medication and any emergency treatments she needed.

Erin poked her head around the corner. “Benny, I need you in my office for a second.”

That sounded bad. Trying to push down my nerves, I went to see her. There was another guy sitting in the office with her.

“This is Curtis. He’s starting today, and will do a few mornings a week. I need you to train him pretty quickly since Andrew left with such short notice.”

“Sure,” I said. I didn’t mind training because I felt like I was pretty good at it, and it meant everyone did things the same way, which made everyone’s life easier in the long run. I shook Curtis’s hand and smiled.

Curtis gripped my hand too hard and lifted his chin as if he were trying to look down his nose. I could already tell he was going to be a problem.

“I’m glad you’re here early; can you start by walking him through prep?”

“Yeah, I got you.”

***The day went downhill from there. Curtis had a major attitude problem, and kept asking irrelevant questions and interrupting me while I tried to explain things. While I served a party of three, he tried to jump in and provide incorrect information to a table. Then he hit on Maxine, which was a final straw for me, because Maxine was awesome and didn’t deserve to be treated the way this asshole probably treated his girlfriends.

I dragged Curtis back to Erin’s office where I explained to him, in front of Erin, that he needed to let me train him, not jump in and try to do a job he didn’t know how to do. “And Maxine is off limits,” I said.

“Why?” he scoffed.

“First, because she’s your coworker. Second, because she has a boyfriend already.” I knew that was a lie, but he didn’t need to know that.

“Okay, I get it,” Curtis said, lifting his hand in mock apology. “Sorry, I thought I was being helpful.”

He was not sorry at all, but I nodded and we left the office. I looked back and gave Erin a look. She winced and mouthed, sorry.

When I got back out to the seating area, the strange woman with the long black hair was sitting at one of my tables. Maxine shot me a silent, apologetic look, but it was the only table open, and we both knew it.

Great, I thought. Wednesday lunch rush, taking up a four-person table, and she probably won’t even tip.

At least I got a little splash of satisfaction from the fact that the table by the window was already taken, so she was seated in the middle of the room near a loud family instead of a quiet corner. She looked irritated about it but she didn’t complain.

Some of her intimidation had worn off during the days I hadn’t seen her. That’s not to say I hadn’t thought about her; in fact, she’d stuck in my head more than I’d like to admit. I found myself looking for her everywhere I went, wondering if I’d run into her. Even when I worked the bar, my eyes immediately went to any beautiful, black-haired woman in ways they hadn’t before.

And at night, I’d found my hand around my dick more times than I wanted to admit while I thought of the gleam in her eyes and her dark red lips.

But today, I was tired, irritated, broke, I hadn’t slept well, and my mother couldn’t remember me. So I took her drink order, directed Curtis to put it into the bar and bring it to her when it was ready, and didn’t worry about her too much. I was more focused on the table of six older ladies who were steadily buying rounds of wine every time I checked on them than the woman who left pocket change as a tip.

Ten minutes later when I circled back, I saw her wine glass was still sitting on the bar. “Curtis,” I muttered, and nodded to the glass. He picked it up and set it at her elbow, walking away before she had a chance to say anything.

He approached me. “You told me you wanted me to watch,” he said, being a dick because of our conversation in Erin’s office.

I wanted to fire him so bad. But I didn’t have that power. I needed to get through this lunch rush and not let his attitude ruin my tips for the day. “I need you to go help Maxine wipe off menus and wrap silverware. Can you do that please?” I pushed past him and went to see the strange woman.

“It’s warm,” she said, looking irritated. “It’s been sitting there for fifteen minutes, and it’s warm. If I’m going to pay twelve dollars for a glass of wine, I’d like it to be cold.”

I tried not to sigh. “My apologies, miss. I’ll get you a fresh glass.” I took the glass back and got her a fresh one, waiting while Lucy poured it and bringing it over immediately.

There was a slight clench in her jaw. “May I have a menu, please,” she asked. I could tell she was trying not to sound sarcastic, but it was a struggle.

Shit. “I’m so sorry, miss. One minute.” I grabbed a menu and gave it to her, promising to return in a moment.

It was longer than a moment before I returned to her, since table four needed more pepper on their pasta, and table nine’s waiter had to go home with a stomach flu and I needed to jump in to cover. While the ladies at table nine flirted and tried to grab my ass, Curtis flirted with Maxine the whole time, being completely useless. I felt bad for sticking him on her, but he would have just made everything worse.

When I finally returned, she’d almost finished her wine. “Do you know what you’d like to order today, miss?” I tried to make my voice as polite as possible, although some of my own annoyance bled through.

She took the glass and lifted it to her lips, holding my eye as she swallowed a small sip. Her strange eyes were full of something I couldn’t quite interpret. I struggled to hold her gaze.

Setting her wine glass down, she folded her hands over themselves. “You know, Benny, I was told excellent things about this place, and about you. My friend Martha said you all passed your corporate inspection with flying colors, despite her driving you crazy with her obnoxious shrimp orders.”

So Shrimp Lady was the corporate inspector? Well at least she left a decent tip. “Thank you, miss.”

“And last week, I quite enjoyed the service I received.”

“I’m glad to hear it, miss.”

“So why is it that today, you seem to be going out of your way to neglect me?”

Because I make two dollars an hour and can’t afford to spend too much time on you. “I’m sorry you feel that way, miss. We’re a little busier today than we were last week.”

“And you’re a little more tired and a little less focused. Why should I have less service because you aren’t in the mood?”

Maybe because you get what you pay for. But I couldn’t say that, because my throat felt thick and my heart was racing. She was staring straight at me, eyes glittering, a slight quirk on her lips, challenging me to defend myself. The tables on either side witnessed her statement, and quieted to watch.

“Is it because I’m not giving you enough to do to stay focused? Should I send my entrée back with negligible complaints about the seasonings and the plating? Would that catch your interest?”

I swallowed, my cheeks feeling hot. The way she was staring at me made me feel like I was naked. I couldn’t tell if she was being condescending, or if she was flirting with me.

She lowered her voice. “Or should I flirt and tease you like that group of ladies over there? Attempt to brush your ass as you refill my glass, or make comments about your pretty blue eyes and your youthful energy levels. Would that catch your attention?” She leaned forward slightly, her voice lowering and softening into something sensual and intimidating. “If you’d like me to make you work for your tip, all you need to do is ask.”

My heart was racing, and I worked to control my frustration. Her assumptions were insulting and the way she was speaking to me was humiliating. But I couldn’t tell off a customer in the middle of a restaurant. Not only that, my neck felt hot and I was sweating from the way she was staring at me.

Keeping my mouth shut, I waited until she was very clearly finished with her little speech. She sat back in her chair and stared at me, demanding a response with her eyes.

I chose not to give it. There was nothing I could say that wouldn’t get me in trouble, or come across as rude.

“Anything to say?”

You don’t know a damn thing about me. You don’t know what I’m going through right now. Who the fuck do you think you are?

“No, miss. Would you like to order any food today?”

“No.” She extracted a fifty dollar bill and laid it on the table, and left her wine unfinished. As she stood, she looked me directly in the eye. She was standing far closer to me than I’d expected her to. Her eyes flashed, and the scent of roses and jasmine hit my nose, and my mouth watered.

Her eyes moved down my body and rested at my hips for a moment, and I realized with horror that I had a chub. Meeting my eyes again, she said coyly, “Keep the change.” Then she left the restaurant like a wisp of smoke disappearing in the wind.

For a few moments, the silence around me was deafening. Then the chatter around me picked back up as I cleared her table, tucked the bill into my apron, and walked briskly to the waiter’s station to cash her out.