A/N: Chapter IV - 1-900- Richonne
Rated R
I'm the first to arrive at the store on 1st Avenue at 9 am that brisk Monday morning. I stood under the awning watching the rain-soaked ground. There's something about that water, that reservoir so deep, that feels cozy even in this early fall.
Soon, I'm joined by another woman, and then a man and then two more women. I'm sure more will be arriving soon, but since these are open interviews and people have until noon, I'd imagine the rest of them will arrive long after I am gone. About fifteen minutes pass before the store manager Alden McAuliffe arrives. Maggie described him to me the day before, so I knew exactly who to look for. I have the feeling Maggie told him about me because he gave me a slight nod and warm smile as he opened the doors to the shop.
I take in the smell of fresh paint on the walls and varnish on the hardwood floors. The counters are onyx granite with an alabaster stone backsplash and plenty of shelves for coffee cups. The accent lighting provided a warm and inviting air. The coffee shop was very chic, with a large cozy settee in the center of the room, I could picture a large group gathering for a chat. Along the walls are plenty of tables, providing room for reading or listening to CD players. Unlike Milton's place, this shop had no TV mounted on the wall, which I prefer. To me, the sound of some relaxing music sets the atmosphere apart from the TV and jukebox sounds of the bar scene.
"Good morning everyone, my name is Alden McAuliffe, I'm the manager for this store and the sister location on Pike Street," the shorter man called out to the small group, "if you could all please fill out these applications, and place them in my folder here when you are finished; I will get the shop running."
He pointed towards a table that had a stack of applications on it and several pens. I took a seat at the bar, where his folder is placed and quickly filled out the application. Someone had walked into the shop, but I didn't bother looking up to see who it was, I was certain, it was just another applicant. My main focus was trying to think of another reference besides Maggie and Milton.
Why do they always want you to have three?
Alden had powered on all the equipment, the Automatic Drip Coffee Maker, a High-Quality Espresso Machine, an Industrial Coffee Grinder...From the cupboards and refrigerators below, he pulled out the various syrups, powders, creamer flavors, and milk and set them on the counter by the machines.
He was ready and so was I.
"Who'd like to go first?" He asked scanning the group of applicants who've now gathered at the bar stools with me.
"I'm ready," I said with absolutely no hesitation. I stood to my feet and removed my jacket, placing it on the bar stool.
"Great!" He answered back while grabbing a large coffee cup from the shelf, "I have room for one more back here, who'd like to join us."
The room was dead silent. I'd already made my way around the bar with my application in hand. For a moment, Alden and I just stood there staring at the people behind the bar, it was kind of awkward. I guess this crowd didn't know that there would be an actual test.
"Are you wanting us to make the coffee?" A woman asked Alden, she looked puzzled, which confirmed my notion.
"The job posting states that you must have basic barista knowledge." Alden brought a coffee cup to his hand and grinned cheekily, "surely you can make a simple cup of coffee."
"I can make coffee, but not with any of those fancy equipment." A man said, looking at the industrial grinder nervously.
Alden's smile slightly fades and he crosses his arms. "The job posting also states one must have basic knowledge of commercial barista equipment."
"Can't you just train us." Another woman spoke out boldly, her expression was of pure annoyance. I actually felt the same way she did, learning to make coffee with commercial equipment is not rocket science, there must be a reason behind why a person has to have prior knowledge.
"Here at StarPort, we set ourselves above the rest. We require that our staff either have formal certified training or previous barista experience. If you do not meet those qualifications, this position is not a match for you at this time."
The two women and the man huff in frustration, while muttering a few choice words. After they put on their coats, the trio storms out of the shop. There are still three people remaining at the bar. Alden took a pause for a moment while rubbing his furrowed his brow. He took a deep breath and turned to me.
"May I have your name please," He said, extending his hand.
"Michonne," I say, taking his hand and giving it a firm shake.
"Please Michonne, let's get started," He unhooked a hanging apron and handed it to me. I quickly put it on.
"What can I make for you Alden," I said with a smile, I knew this would be a piece of cake, there was not much he could ask for with the limited ingredients on the shelf.
"A very rich, warm, and chocolaty expresso." His voice trailed off as if he was dreaming about it.
"Coming right up." I grind the coffee beans, then pull two shots of espresso and pour them into a tall glass. Next, I mix in one ounce of chocolate syrup and then add steamed milk until it is almost full. Finally, I top it off with whipped cream and then garnish it with some chocolate flakes. I grab a saucer from the shelf and place his cup on top. "According to the board, the grand opening special is $2.25."
Alden beamed at me, took his coffee, and sipped. His face relaxed and he let out quite the moaned in pure bliss.
I chuckled inwardly, my coffee and my voice make the men-folk moan.
"I hand you a $20, how much change do I get back?"
I chuckled loudly this time, "17.75..."
I pretend to use the register while he digs into his pocket and pretends to place money in the tip jar.
"I'd happily leave here with 15 bucks for a cup of coffee this good," he says after taking another sip. And then another... Another and he moaned again...
"Thank you," not quite knowing what to do next, my eyes fix on the cup, "So, umm, what's next," I spoke in a voice that was barely audible.
"Oh...Of course, your hired, I'll see you at the grand opening on Friday, the business owners and partners, attend every grand opening, so dress to impress."
I try not to squeal like a twelve-year-old, so I thanked him again, shake his hand, wished the other applicant's good luck, and left.
I had the entire day to just relax and feel good about my accomplishment. After purchasing this month's bus pass and making my weekly trip to the store, I realize how much I really needed this new job. I make it back home a little afternoon and as I unpacked my boxes of oatmeal, a bag of apples, a half-gallon of milk, minestrone soup ingredients, and crackers; I call Maggie to share the good news with her.
"Congrats! I knew you could do it, " she sounded so excited for me, "another heads-up buttercup, you're going to be super busy that first week, but the tips easily make up for the hustle, after a week, all the hype dies down, still you'll have way more hours than you ever got at Milton's."
"That's just what I needed."
"What's your shift this weekend." She asked.
"Damn, I don't know yet," I thought about it for a moment and I didn't establish the rate of pay either.
"You'd better find that out before Alden sends your paperwork to HR, it's not like at Milton's, the StarPorts are a well-oiled machine."
"I saw that first hand," I gave Maggie the details of the interview and before hanging up I thanked her again for giving me the heads up on what to expect. I had left Alden a message politely letting him know I'd like to discuss my shift and my pay before I start.
And then there was idle time.
I decided to review my second source of income to see if this job was even worth keeping anymore. I like it because everything is so modern, I don't have to drive to an office or even go to the bank and cash my check. The pay is sent directly to my bank account. I log on to my online account to see how much money I made this week chatting. My excitement fades and I lower my head in disappointment. Only $75 this week. I use to make triple that, I didn't need a day job. Now, I'm lucky if I have enough to pay my rent each month after everyone gets their cut. I scroll down and review all the fees...and more fees and taxes...Fees for the internet and phone service prices have gone up, thus the agency fees are on the rise, which of course makes the consumer fees skyrocket, no wonder no one calls anymore. My stomach growled and I squirmed in my seat to try to silence the rumbling. I glanced at the clock; it was a little after 2 PM and I had not eaten anything, so I made myself some oatmeal. I diced a few apples, added some honey, a scoop of cinnamon, and a dash of sugar. I ate in my tiny kitchen, staring at one of my mother's paintings.
It was a leaf skeleton, its green flesh is eaten away to leave only a lacy cellulose network - fragile, natural, beautiful in its own way. My eyes traveled over its ovoid shape, thrown into sharp relief by the deep plum background. Art is part of our human soul. It is dreaming emerging from a part of ourselves, a way to communicate with the deeper self of both the artist and others. The same piece invokes different emotions depending on the person, their mood, their time of life. Art is pictured; art is sculpture; art is the creative word; art is music. We are all artists in our various ways, all born to be creative. The phone rang snapping me out of my thoughts, I jumped from my seat and answered the phone.
"Hi is this Michonne..." The voice on the other end asked, and I recognized it instantly.
"Yes, hello Alden, thanks for calling me back."
"No problem, and to answer your question, we are actually offering you a full-time position with this location, normally the store manager is the only full-time employee, but since I am stretched pretty thin working two locations, the GM approved the addition. Also, I could really use someone with your knowledge and talent."
"This sounds great," I responded. It actually sounded better than great, sounds like I'll be the manager. "Will I be in charge of opening and closing the store?"
"Yes, you will be required to work 8 hours, you'll be responsible for opening and closing the store, inventory management and new hire orientation, which I will train you on. You will be paid a salary of an entry-level manager and given full company benefits. We can go over more detail in orientation Thursday, just meet me at the coffee shop at 9 am."
Holy...Lord up above!
"I'll see you Thursday, thank you, Alden," I was positively stunned.
Were the people that came in today that bad? Did Maggie and Milton have any influence over this? I've never had a salary before, nor have I ever been given this kind of responsibility. When I'm nervous, I clean, I began to clean my tiny apartment from top to bottom. That didn't take long because my apartment is 400 square feet. However, I did have a nice size load of laundry in need of a wash, so I gathered my, quarters, laundry supplies, and headed to the basement of the building.
I put my Rolling Stone magazine down when the dryer buzzed and began folding laundry, it's quite relaxing. I love to feel the warm cloth, in my hands. It lets me be creative too, my mind is free to explore ideas, embrace new concepts, rise to new heights of thought. I am at peace doing this. I know it isn't glamorous, no red carpet required, but I'm not that kind of girl. I was just about finished when Gareth from across the hall, strolls in. If it was anyone else, this would not be an issue, but there is something off about this guy. If were to describe his clothes or hair, you'd think him so pedestrian as to not be worth the trouble. He's clean-shaven, average height, average build. But when he talks to me his eyes don't meet mine for long. They travel down to my loafers and almost back to my face, stopping somewhere around the locket I keep about my neck.
"Getting those dirty clothes clean..." His voice trails as if he's struggling against a backdrop of loud thoughts.
"I'm finishing up here, the machines are all yours."
I tell him, even though he has no laundry in his hand. I hurry up and fold my last undergarment and then after he fails to respond he snaps out of his lurid daydream and smiles at me like a guilty child. I turned back his way, he's still watching me, but quickly pretends to be looking for some lost item in the dryer machine.
After I put away my laundry and make my bed with the freshly laundered sheets; I plop down on the bed, my eyes began to get heavy and I fell asleep. It was a little after 9 PM before I open them again. In lieu of my unexpected nap, I decided to have a snack and get my minestrone soup cooked and transferred into storage containers in preparation for the upcoming week.
By the time I finished with that it was just after 10 PM. I was a little restless, so I logged on and was surprised to get a call soon afterward. It wasn't long before I found myself fiddling with my headset. I spun my pencil between my fingers and just waited...and waited... I sighed with resignation that would be another night of disappointment. I took the headset off and set it down. I reached for the mouse so that I could close all the windows, taking me offline and unavailable for calls. Just as I was about to click the final icon, I get a ping. It was a notification telling me I had a customer request.
Customer: RICK requesting a private chat. Would you like to accept?
My heart rate went from 0 to 100 in a fraction of a second. I hurried up and reopened my windows and clicked YES so quickly I almost sprained my wrist.
RICK: "Hi Michelle, sorry it took me a few days to get back, I've been busy with work. Did you forget about me?"
There was no fighting the giant smile on my face, relief flooding me as I typed back.
Sorry, who is this.
I giggled to myself and I watched the loading dots pop up, indicating he was typing something.
RICK: "I'm the one who made your pussy wet when we talked on the phone."
My cheeks flushed, and I debated what to respond with. Before I could reply, he started typing again.
RICK: "Don't try to deny it. I could tell that little moan you let out was a real one, not faked like I am sure it is for all the other men you end up on the phone with."
Maybe I'm so good at my job that you wouldn't be able to tell either way.
RICK: "If you give me access to your private line, I can assure you that you wouldn't have to fake a single thing with me, whether I could tell or not."
I tapped my fingers on the desk contemplating. Honestly, I didn't see how it could go wrong for me. He'd be paying extra for the private line tonight and any other night he called. The only thing was he'd be able to reach me, even if I wasn't online. I was still thinking about it when another message went through.
RICK: "Please, Michelle, I need your voice. I want to hear it late at night when I can't sleep, in the mornings when I haven't fully woken up and maybe in the middle of the day when all you can say is 'yes' or 'no' because you don't want anyone else knowing what you're doing."
Oh my... I'm starting to get wet, my nipples hardened by every word I read. By the time I got to the end of the message, I was convinced. It might be a terrible decision, but I gave him the number of my private line without another word. Seconds later, the phone rang and I accepted the call.
"Thank you, Michelle, I was afraid you were going to turn me down.
"I wasn't for sure myself..."
"What made you give in?" He asked in that amazing dark and raspy voice, I closed my eyes to enjoy it more.
"I-I don't know..."
"I think you do naughty little Michelle," He paused, waiting for my response, but I had no idea what to say.
How lame is that! I'm a phone sex operator and I am at a total loss for words.
"I think you want to talk to me just as much as I want to talk to you." He said.
"I suppose that's a possibility."
"Where are you?"
"In my room."
"Where in your room? What were you doing before I called?"
"I'm sitting at my desk, in front of my computer, drawing."
"Really?" He sounded so surprised, "What do you like to draw?"
"Whatever comes to mind."
"I'd like to see your work someday, but for now, I have another question for you."
I'd became flustered when he said he wanted to see my drawings, and then relieved when he moved on quickly. I didn't care what the question was, I'd never shown anyone my drawings or any of my work.
"What's your question?"
"What are you wearing?"
I could hear the smile in his voice, and I laughed lightly at the typical question.
"Really, that's what you're going with?"
"Yep, but there is a catch; I want to know what you're really wearing, not what you think I want to hear."
"If you insist," I looked down at my attire, "I'm wearing light grey sweatpants that are a few sizes too big for comfort and a purple Fresh Prince of Bellaire T-shirt.
"Cute..."
"I guess what I really like about the shirt," I lower my voice and whisper in a seductive tone, "is that I've worn it so much that the neck is stretched out enough that it just kind of hangs off my bare shoulders, and it' basically see-through. And since I'm not wearing a bra underneath..."
I heard his sharp intake of breath as I trailed off. I exhaled and let the self-satisfaction fill me.
"I can just imagine the way it'd tempt my eyes to follow the line of your collar bone to where the shirt molds to the curves of your full and delicious breast."
"You'd defiantly be able to see the dark shadows of my nipples and the way they stand out through the thin cotton, begging for your hands or tongue."
"Shit, Michelle," his groan filled my ear, I need you to go to your bed, take off your sweats, and lay on your back."
My body was moving before he finished the demand. Letting my pants fall to my feet, I stepped out of them and fell back into my pillows.
"I'm there, Rick."
"Good girl..."
I let out a whimper at the two words, never knowing they could have that kind of effect on me.
"I want you to do everything I tell you unless it makes you completely uncomfortable. If it does, just say so and I'll switch gears."
"Okay," I agreed with more enthusiasm than I wanted him to know.
His quite laugh confirmed he knew just how excited I was for what was about to happen. I lay on my bed wetter than I've ever been before, waiting for the instructions that I'm sure would make me come...