Megan and Josh (Gas Station Employees and Lovers)

The gas station was half-lit, the buzzing overhead sign casting a weak glow onto the empty parking lot. Midnight had long passed, and with it went the last rush of customers. Inside, the humming refrigerators and flickering fluorescent lights were the only reminders that the place was still open.

Behind the counter, they weren’t exactly worried about professionalism.

Josh leaned lazily against the register, one hand on Megan’s waist as she perched herself halfway onto the counter, legs swinging, grinning down at him. She was the kind of girl people stared at twice, long blonde hair falling in loose waves over her shoulders, bright blue eyes that seemed too lively for this dead-end job, a figure that looked more like it belonged in a magazine than a gas station uniform. And somehow, she was with him.

Josh meanwhile was scruffy and boyish with an uneven stubble, a build that screamed “average,” he had been with Megan since junior year. They’d survived high school together, prom night, late-night drives, and the town gossip about how she could’ve done “so much better.” But Megan never seemed to care. When she laughed, when she looked at him with that warmth, like he was the only guy in the world, it silenced every whisper.

“Babe, we’re gonna get caught one of these days,” Josh murmured against her lips, though his hands didn’t stop pulling her closer.

Megan giggled, tugging at his shirt. “Caught by who? You really think Mr. Patel’s gonna show up at 1 a.m. to check if we’re stocking the chip bags?” She kissed him again, slow and deep, and Josh melted against her, grinning like a fool.

The bell above the door suddenly chimed.

Both of them groaned in unison. A man in a leather jacket stepped inside, tall, haggard-looking, the kind of face that carried too many sleepless nights. He grabbed a bottle of water, walked up to the counter and glanced between them.

“You guys open, right?” His voice was flat, weary.

Megan sighed dramatically, still perched on the counter, arms around Josh’s shoulders. “Do we look open?”

Josh chuckled into her neck, not even turning his attention fully to the customer. “Sorry, man. Pumps are closed. Try somewhere else.”

The man frowned, looking out at the glowing “OPEN 24 HOURS” sign before back at them. “Seriously?”

“Yeah, seriously,” Megan snapped, kissing Josh again just to prove how little she cared. “We’re busy.”

The man muttered something under his breath, shook his head, and left without another word. The bell chimed again as the door shut behind him, leaving the couple alone once more in their little cocoon of comfort.

Josh smirked, pulling Megan tighter against him. “See? No one’s gonna ruin our night.”

That’s when his phone buzzed.

On the counter, the screen lit up with a number he didn’t recognize. At first, he ignored it, lips pressing to Megan’s collarbone. But then it buzzed again. And again. Persistent. Relentless.

Finally, with a frustrated groan, Josh reached for it. “Who the hell is calling me at this hour?”

He swiped to answer.

“Hello?”

“Well, ain’t this a disappointment,” the caller sneered. “I get all excited dialing in, and it’s just some dude picking up. Thought I’d get lucky with another hot little thing. Tell me, any cute chicks around?”

Josh’s face twisted in disgust. “What the fuck? Who is this? You sick piece of shit. Call here again and I’ll-”

“Shut up,” the caller cut in, his voice sharpening just slightly. “I didn’t ask what you thought. I asked if there’s some cute chick nearby. Answer me.”

Josh’s mouth opened, ready to unleash another string of insults, he could feel them on his tongue, hot, furious, but instead the words that spilled out were, “Yeah. There’s a girl here.”

His eyes went wide as the words betrayed him. He hadn’t meant to say that. His hand twitched, tightening around the phone.

On the other end, the caller laughed. That deep, ugly laugh that seemed to crawl under the skin. “Knew it. Now listen, Joshy-boy, from here on out, you’re my little parrot. You’ll say what I want, do what I want, and nothing else. Got it?”

“No, fuck you, I-” Josh tried, but his throat tightened. His lips moved on their own, spitting out, “Yes. I got it.”

Megan blinked, stepping closer, brows drawn together in confusion. “Josh? What the hell are you saying? Who is that?”

The caller ignored her. “So tell me, boy, how hot is she? Scale of one to ten.”

Josh’s jaw clenched. Inside, he was screaming, Don’t answer, don’t answer, don’t give this asshole anything. But the words crawled out anyway, raw and helpless. “She’s… she’s a ten.”

Another laugh, sharper this time. “Thought so. But y’know, simple numbers are boring. Let’s make it more fun. If you had to slap a price tag on her like she was up for sale, what do you think she’d fetch?”

Josh’s face burned with rage and shame, his mind thrashing for control, but his voice betrayed him again, steady and clear as if the words had always been his:

“She- She’d fetch a fortune.”

Megan’s mouth fell open. She stared at him, stunned. “Josh, what the hell are you talking about?!”

“Oh, a fortune, eh?” the caller’s sleazy chuckle oozed through the line. “You seem to be really into this chick. What is she, a crush or something?”

Megan looked at him, puzzled, mouthing silently: Who the fuck is it?

Josh’s jaw tightened. The words burst out of him before he could stop them. “She’s my girlfriend.”

Josh’s grip on the phone was slick with sweat, but relief flickered across his face when Megan suddenly yanked it from his hand. “Okay, enough!” she snapped, lifting it to her ear. “Whoever the hell you are, this isn’t funny. Stop messing with-.”

For a fleeting second, Josh hoped she might break the nightmare off where he couldn’t. His chest loosened. But then he saw it.

Megan’s eyes glazed over mid-sentence. The fire in her expression drained away. Her mouth went slack, then stretched into a vacant, serene half-smile. Her voice was soft, dreamy, mechanical:

“Yes, Master. I’ll do exactly as I’m told.”