Tiffany, Blake, Justin and Dirk join a group of jocks and popular girls from school that came in earlier. That’s a group I have no interest in associating with, they all seem so fake and full of themselves.
I must have been staring in Tiffany’s direction for a while, long enough for Renee to take notice. She nods over at the group, “Who’s she?”
“Tiffany Hammond.”
“She your girlfriend?”
“Nah, just a friend, we’ve known each other for years.”
“Do you want her to be your girlfriend?”
Am I that obvious? I think to myself. Sighing, I tell Renee, “She’s only into jocks, not guys like me.”
“Her loss,” she shrugs, “You’ll find the right girl, Sport.”
“I’m not so sure about that…” I quietly mutter.
She tugs on my shirt, “Come on in the back, we need help with making pizza, we’re getting behind in the kitchen.”
—–
As the month of June progresses, the weather becomes warmer and warmer, a sure sign the summer season is setting in to stay. I learn just how hot it can get in the kitchen with the pizza ovens roaring at 500 degrees. It seems no matter how cold we have the air conditioning set at, it’s still sweltering back here. Renee assured me that I will “get used to it over time.”
On this particular Wednesday, it was rather slow before dinner and Renee asked if I could help her rearrange the stock-room. We pull everything off the shelves to give them a good wipe down, throw out old junk that isn’t used anymore and sweep the floors in all the hard-to-reach corners. This room is small as it is, but with everything off the shelves and piled around us, it makes for tight working quarters.
Renee has her hands full with couple of large plastic containers and is trying to scoot past me. Moving back to allow her room, I back up into a large cardboard box and lose my balance. My ass lands on the box as Renee, also loses her balance, in an attempt to reach out and catch me. She ends up landing on me, sitting on my lap. “Ah shit!” she exclaims, as the containers she was carrying topple, dumping their contents of paper cups and lids all over the floor.
She turns, looks at me behind her, and laughs, “Well, hello there! Fancy meeting you in here,” she jokes because of our now, very close, proximity.
“Uh… Hi,” I grin back.
She sighs, “Look at this mess. We really need to figure out how to restock these shelves with a better system.”
“Yeah,” I nod and agree. Funny thing is, she stays right where she is, comfortably sitting on my lap. I feel a little awkward having my supervisor, not to mention, the owner’s cute daughter so close to me… and on me like this… but, I’m not bothered it. It’s hard not to be attracted to Renee.
I can feel every one of her slight movements directly through my pants and directly on my special parts inside. That little horny side of me causes my mind to start to wander. I’m thinking about how close in proximity my special parts are to her special parts, only few layers of simple cloth. Uh oh, shouldn’t be thinking like this, I feel myself starting to get hard. I better get my mind on something else, and quick!
Renee turns and smiles at me; god, I hope she hasn’t noticed the growing situation I have going on, she’ll think I’m some kind of perv. She takes a breath and starts to stand up, “Okay, Sport, let’s get this shit done.”
As she’s partway lifted herself up, the box I’m on suddenly picks that time to collapse under me. Like a skit in some old-time comedy act, I fall and Renee loses her balance, coming down alongside of me. As she lands, her hand inadvertently falls on the small hump in the front of my jeans. As if things weren’t already stirred-up down there, slight movement of her fingers causes a bevy of tingles on my sensitive bits inside. When she notices exactly where her hand is, she grins, pulling it back. “Oops, I’m sorry,” she giggles, “Didn’t mean to grope you there.”
I feel my face get instantly warm, “It’s okay,” I tell her.
Benny comes around the corner and see us on the floor in the middle of this mess, “What in the hell is going on back here?”
Renee reaches up to him, “Pull me up, will ya?”
Sometimes it’s just those little things that can make a guy’s day, like noticing a girl possibly checking you out, maybe a female friend playfully smacking your ass, or sitting on your lap, and how about a hand accidently landing on your private area? Okay, okay, I know… it was just an innocent slip-up, but hey, it makes me smile.
—–
For the next couple of weeks, things continue go great at my job. Renee seems to schedule me whenever she’s working, I’m fine with that, I like working shifts with her.
In mid-July, she pulls me aside and asks if I would be interested in making some extra money on the side for my car and college fund. She explains, “My Dad is not only part owner of Pizza Depot, but he also owns the Fairlawn Apartments on MacArthur Avenue. Do you know where I’m talking about?”
“Yeah, I think I know where that is.”
“When a tenant’s lease is up and they move out, we repaint the whole apartment and sometimes replace the carpet before re-renting the unit. The repainting is something I help my Dad with. I have five units to paint over the next four weeks. Would you be interested in helping me? We can pay you hourly what you make here, plus an extra dollar an hour on top. I already asked my Dad and he’s fine with it.”
“Wow, yeah! That sounds great. But, I’ve never painted any rooms before.”
“There’s nothing to it, I can have you painting like a pro in an hour or two.”
“Okay, count me in.”
—–
A few days later, I ride my bike out to the Fairlawn Apartments, find Building #4 and Apartment #6 that Renee and I are to be painting. She told me to wear clothes that I don’t care if I get paint on and to be sure to wear shorts, because it can get really hot in the units with the air conditioning vents covered up with masking.
It doesn’t take long for me to get the hang of using the paint roller. Renee works with the brush painting around all the edges and corners while I follow up. Wall by wall, everything is gets a fresh coat of white paint. I can see it will take us most of the day to complete this two-bedroom apartment.
The former tenant left behind an old couch in the living room. Around noon, Renee motions we should sit down and take a break. We are both pouring sweat in this ridiculously hot and humid apartment. Add that the evaporating paint makes the air extra heavy and this mid-July summer heat makes it too hot outside to open any windows for relief.
Renee asks, “Would it be awkward for you if I took off my shirt? I am burning up. I have a sports bra on.”
“Yeah, that’s fine, go for it.” I wave my hand, not thinking too much about it.
“Thanks. Take your shirt off too if you want.”
I feel a little awkward doing so, I’ve never been one of those guys who goes around shirt-less unless I’m swimming, but she’s right, it will feel better to take this sweat-soaked thing off. To take my mind off feeling uncomfortable, I make some conversation, “So where do you go away to college?”
“Central Michigan University, or as we call it, CMU. It’s up in Mount Pleasant.”