You're done with these guys

Your shift has barely started, and you're already so tired. Jeremy has been even more exhausting than usual, and the thought of dealing with Lacey's undone chores on top of a long closing shift is weighing heavily on you. Bear's invitation to sit down in his nice big lap and chat for a minute doesn't sound so bad. His talk of expecting "service" makes you uneasy, but the heat between your legs has you curious in spite of yourself. Whatever it is can't possibly be worse than all the other drudgery of your job.

Right?

Come on, RC, why are you even giving these guys the time of day? These assholes have been treating you like meat, and you're just gonna go along with it? You stiffen up as you look at the rest of the seated men, remembering their utterly repulsive behavior. Before Bear's hand can get any higher, you twist out of his grip and quickly walk back to the counter. "Not shy, just busy. Enjoy your food." Years of experience dealing with minimum-wage bullshit is the only reason you were able to keep your voice steady, and you're grateful they couldn't see your face as you walked away. You don't even want to imagine how flustered you look.

Chased by their mocking laughter, you finally escape past the counter and into the back. You've never been so glad to see the dishwashing sink. Hands shaking, you quickly get to work, using the wall-mounted sprayer to blast food residue off the pans and containers. You wish you could use its violent jet of water to blast all the fucking assholes out of your day. Seriously, what the fuck is going on with all these guys?

First there was Don on the bus, demanding your attention and putting his fucking arm around you. Now a whole pack of men, grinning and glaring at you like hungry wolves, talking to you like you're not even a person, like you're just some object to provide food and receive crass come-ons. And, of course, Jeremy being Jeremy.

As you work your way through the pile of dishes, you keep going over their disgusting treatment in your mind, running through it over and over again. That buzzing heat isn't going away, especially between your legs, and somehow seems to get worse the more you think about all of it. What's more, that heat starts to work its way into the memories, changing them.

Don's arm around your shoulder is suddenly... sweet? Why did you have to be so rude to him? If you'd just sat there and talked to him like he wanted, you wouldn't have had to walk all that way. Besides, maybe he really was as nice as he said. The way those men at the counter treated you now doesn't seem so bad at all. Buzzcut was just giving you a compliment, and maybe you had misheard freckle's order, which of course would have deserved an apology. And Bear really was just showing polite interest in you and your life, which is more than you can say about most customers. He even invited you to go riding with him. What a gentleman.

You shake your head as you imagine sitting behind him, arms wrapped around his broad waist and a powerful bike vibrating between your legs. What the fuck is going on with me? You think about Jeremy, sure that the memory of your obnoxious manager will break the spell. The way he berates you, talks down to you, insults you in front of customers. The way he grabbed your arm, hurting you, leaving marks on your skin...

"Hey! Dummy!"

Jeremy's shout snaps you back to reality, and you realize you had been standing there, staring at nothing. Jesus Christ RC, what is wrong with you?

Before you can respond, or clear your head, or come to terms with the fact that those last thoughts had somehow made the heat between your legs even more unbearable, Jeremy is right in your face. "I thought I told you to give those nice men some service. What the shit happened?"

Your heart is pounding, and your shallow breaths pull in whiffs of Jeremy's halitosis. "I...I got them their napkins. W-what's the problem?"

Jeremy's face scrunches up. "The problem is I just had to calm them all down and offer them discounts cuz they were so upset by how rude you were, dummy! What is so difficult about being nice?"

Rude? What the fuck? They were the ones pawing at my ass. "I...I'm..."

"You're what? You're sorry? Not good enough, dummy." He moves even closer so his nose is practically brushing against yours. The smell of his breath and body odor are overpowering. "I said you had to be extra nice to me today or the new owner is gonna hear about it. Well now you gotta be extra extra nice to me." He grabs your arm and starts to move your hand toward him. "You know how you're gonna do that?"

You think you do, and the thought makes you shudder in revulsion, but instead of yelling at him or shoving him away, you look down at his crotch, and the bulge in his pants makes the heat inside you flare again. What is wrong with me? Why am I... why am I just letting him do this?

Just before your hand makes contact with the front of his dirty trousers, you both freeze up as you hear the doorbell chirp. At first you think it's just those men leaving, but then it chirps again. And again. And again. Your eyes go wide, and Jeremy's angry glower turns into a smile. "Looks like this is gonna have to wait, dummy. Dinner rush is here." He releases your arm and takes a step back. "But before you go back on the line, there's something I gotta deal with."

Before you can respond, he grabs the wall mounted sprayer and blasts your chest with it. You yelp in shock and reflexively bring your arms up to protect your face. The sharp impact of the water is painful on your breasts, and you can feel your work shirt become utterly soaked.

He finally stops, and chuckles to himself. "Those stains were an embarrassment to our fine establishment. This is much better."

You look down, gaping at the way the wet fabric clings to your skin, clearly revealing the shape of your breasts. You look back up at Jeremy, eyes wide.

"Now get out there, dummy. You got work to do."