One man's trash is another woman's treasure

"Where the hell are you Doe?!", the booming voice of his boss yelled at him after John made the mistake of picking his phone up.

"Merda...You were supposed to be here 20 minutes ago", his Italian boss tended to slip between languages when he insulted him, "you get your lazy ass here or I swear to my nonna, I will put your sorry ass in the crusher myself. Hai rotto i coglioni, hai rotto il cazzo."

Vinni Caliciente didn't wait for John's reply and hung up as soon as he finished his rant and dropped the insult. At least he thought it was probably an insult, John hardly spoke English well, let alone learning some European language on top.

Other people might be afraid of losing their job when they get late to work or slack off, but other people didn't work in garbage arrangement and disposal. There was hardly anyone willing to work with and in the borderline toxic wastes that the city produces and even fewer would do that for the few coins that his boss insisted was a salary. So there was literally zero chance for his boss firing him, based on the sad silver lining that literally no one would trade places with him.

On the other hand though his boss regularly threatened him with **** and last week he hit the backside of his head so hard, John still saw double if he squinted too hard. So he better get there fast or he'd be in big trouble.

John made himself ready to leave, at least for his standards, and left his basement lair. The dumpster wasn't that far away from his house, because of course it wasn't. For others that would be a bad thing because of the stench and all, but for John who didn't own any means of transportation, having the dumpster be in walking distance was - still a bad thing. That damn stench...

Following the nose torturing lure John made his way to his workplace, when he passed a street corner and heard the telltale sounds of a rat fight. You don't work at a dumpster without learning a thing or two about rats. And if there was one thing John learned, than it was that the clacking of their teeth and the sounds of scratches from their colliding little claws meant there was food to fight over.

Rounding the corner, he really did find three little rodents circling around a little piece of treasure. As if in a mexican standoff the rats were walking around a discarded Snickers™-bar, throwing each other menacing looks, flashing their teeth and scratching their little claws on the alley ground. But if there's one thing a bottom-feeder like John can do, than it's stomping down on the few creatures even lower than him on the literal food chain.

"Aaaaaargh", he yelled at them as he ran towards the trio with outstretched arms and the total menace of a toddler on his first steps. They fled, as they ought to, and John picked up the almost two thirds long snack bar. There was even hardly any dirt on it. Like a real baller he strolled on towards work and enjoyed his breakfast of kings.

John was shaken out of his triumph when he found a luxury car in the dumpsters parking lot. His stomach turned a little, only partly from the trashy Snickers, mostly from worried surprise. Vinni Calicente was a total dick of a boss, sure, but that guy was harmless mostly. The owner of the car in the lot on the other hand was a total dick too, of course, but he was not harmless at all.

The big boss Caliciente didn't need any introductions. And neither did John ever talk with him, only ever about him. That is to mean, if his colleagues ever spoke about the big boss. The old Italian mobster was the topic of hushed whispers, mostly because the garbage crushers mysteriously worked night shifts whenever him and his entourage had visited the facility.

Sure, not at all creepy, no.

John walked through the yard and towards the backdoor of the building and out of the corner of his eye he noticed a person at one of the windows up in the admin offices looking down on him. The silhouette emitted a sudden focus on him and without him clearly seeing the person up there, he felt a cold shiver run down his spine, even before the figure disappeared in a flash.

Not creepy at allllllllllll. But a paycheck is a paycheck and John wasn't burdened with too much self-preservation instinct. Maybe that was based on his life not having that much to preserve in the first place. So he ducked into the building proper and found his way into the commons room with the employee lockers.

He pulled off his rundown shoes, dropped his crumpled pants and made his stained shirt follow them to the floor. He reached for the overalls in his locker, but the door to the commons room opened before he could pull them out.

A woman marched into the room flanked by two suits, each of her steps seemingly along a catwalk that only she perceived. The two suits took a stance on each side of the door she just burst in through. She placed her hands on her hips, angled her head back slightly and raised her nose.

"You smell disgusting."

Curt and brass. The woman standing in front of him was no one other than Catalina Caliciente, the big bosses wife and socialite he had only ever seen from afar. Something he absolutely regretted now that he saw her up close.

She had stomped in here on stiletto heels whose laces went up to her knees, where they met the bottom part of her dress. Red cloth wrapped around those legs and encased her hips, flat stomach and bulging breasts snuggly. Atop her shoulders she carried a stola made out of some pelt that framed her delicate neck and seemed to be a little throne for her regal head. Her face was beautiful and stern, the fire of her dress crackled behind her eyes and the frosty impression of her pelt was mirrored by the dismissive sneer on her lips.

"Even in a place as this", her hands gestured around her dismissively, "you manage to stick out like a sore thumb. Utterly revolting."

Her lips basically dripped venom and John would have loved to retort that this was literally a dumpster and even if he was a dirty slob, there was no way she could notice any nuances in a place like this. But first of all he was not rhetorically versed enough to think of that and second of all: boobs.

That red dress was not only skintight, it also showed a valley of cleavage between her pressed-together jugs. Looking at the bosses wife so blatantly might have been a bad idea, but on the other hand: boobs.

"And zero manners in this cabron."

Oh no, her tone was somehow getting even more intense, he better try to deescalate the situation.

"A truly disgusting specimen", she uttered through tightly pressed lips and John could hear the two guards she brought in start to snicker beneath their professional demeanor. They were about to witness an execution and they were visually enjoying it.

"It's not that I-", John tried to appease this Italian goddess, but she beat him to it and with a raised hand silenced him instantly.

"You two, leave", she commanded the suits without even looking at them. Begrudgingly the two left the room through the same door they came through. At least one of them had the decency to mouth the words 'sorry man', as parting words.

As soon as they had left, Catalina Caliciente took a step forward to John and considering their difference in height, his eyes would have had an easier time angling down to her boobs, than to look up into her eyes. But her regal demeanor left no room for comfort, only for following her will. So he looked up into those big blue pools of judgement.

"You are so", her voice cracked a little between words, "utterly", her voice become even more pressed, each word coming from deep within her, "beneath me."

That last bit sounded like.... longing?

Catalina's knees buckled slightly until they were face-to-face and without another word, the Italian ice queen **** her mouth on his and started to kiss him.