Nightshift Part Two

The alleyway and the brick wall opposite the restaurant’s is softly lit in spotlight by the security bulb screwed in over the doorway. There you stand in that nearly staged lighting, stripped down to all but your grayed, well worn tank top which is so sweat soaked that it is nearly see through. The single, soft, white light glistens against the drops and streaks of sparkling sweat that embrace themselves at your strong, muscled arms and swelling chest. My eyes immediately gaze down at the huge swinging cock that hangs temptingly, deliciously from your sweating groin. The shadows behind and below it only serve to emphasize its enormity. I don’t remember shutting the door behind me.



I look back up at your face, handsome and hard. Your stance is that of bored distain and your brilliant green eyes stare back at me with contempt. But, somehow, that very disdain, that seemingly unreasonable contempt inexplicably makes me want to serve you more desperately then ever, if such a thing were possible!



My mouth forms words that never escape my lips as you hold a finger up to silence me. You raise your hand to me to approach, and hypnotically I do just that. Only three steps away from you and each step forward increases my trembling and quickly dissolves any reserve I tried to create. Your hand touches the side of my face and you speak to me. Your voice is deeply resonant, certain, but I am shocked that the words are not English. You too are Eastern, like our boss and the cooks. I quickly understand now that it was always just to me that they spoke English.