~BBW, WG, romance - A customer with curious habits catches a fry-cook's affections.
Chapter one
There was a new teller at the bank. Word of her spread quickly around the shopping plaza: the girls at the hair salon had noticed her first and complained about her bouncy bronze ringlets to the staff of the dress shop, who spent an hour staring across the parking lot into the windows of the bank and texting their contacts in the neighboring stores about it.
It was a small, tightly woven community of young sales associates, stylists, cleaners, and line cooks enduring the service industry in order to pay for grad school, art school, and juniors preschool; a community desperately tired of itself and fiercely intrigued by anything new. The stores and restaurants in the plaza were slowly failing and their employees could only pass the time until they graduated and moved on or until the shop finally shut down. A new employee was an opportunity to watch another set of young dreams die.
Thus it was still morning when news reached Cody, fry cook at the 'Chickin Kitchin' and generally the last in line for gossip. It reached him in the form of two fried chicken breasts dangling suddenly in front of his faceMyron, his oft-insufferable workmate, apparently wished to convey that the bank's new teller was reported to possess an impressive bosom.
Cody acknowledged this with a dutifully impressed expression and encouraged Myron to get back to his dishwashing. Cody liked boobs as much as the next man, but had six more hours of sullen brooding to get to and couldnt waste time on things like excitement and happiness.
Of the shopping plazas five failing food offerings, Chickin Kitchin was the most misspelled and the least patronized. Most of the upscale locals hated it, preferring their organic tofu purees and the like, but it attracted a devoted collection of lower-class families who swore by its inexpensive oily goodness. The menu offered only items that could be battered, passed through a deep fryer, and stored under a heat lamp in a long countertop hot case. The restaurant had no illusions about itself. It was fairly clean but disinterestedly decorated, oddly lit, and overflowing with deafening music at all times.
Customers were generally taken aback by the musics volume, but after a visit or two usually came to realize its true value: as it had been rendered impossible for customer and server to hear one another, none of the service industrys customary, soulless conversation was necessary. Customers pointed to items in the case and Cody dished up the items. Money was exchanged, occasionally accompanied by a smile or a nod. There were never complaints, there were never special requests, and there were fewer hatreds developed.
Much of the time Cody was free to stick in his earplugs, nod his head with the thump of the music, grimace, and stare out the storefront at customers going everywhere else. He watched a mother herd a group of children into a minivan. He watched a young couple walk across the lot, holding hands. They were considerably overweight and their bodies bounced happily into one anothers as they waddled; Cody grimaced more, straightened his apron, and scratched the back of his head. He watched a pair of sparrows fight over a discarded bag of chips, then caught sight of the new bank teller exit the bank.
She paused on the sidewalk, blinking in the midday June sun, and slowly turned in a circle, furtively noting things to herself with her index finger. Cody watched as one of the things marked proved to be his exact direction and realized she was counting the plazas restaurants. She turned around again, apparently uncertain, then strode off in the opposite direction, to the fancy bagel-sandwich shop.
Cody glared and involuntarily rapped his knuckles on the countertop. He frowned at himself for a moment, shook his head, and retreated into the dishroom. One more endless Monday.
Tuesday afternoon he saw her exit the bank again. She spun in her same circle, paused, then headed off across the lot toward the soup café.
Wednesday, at precisely the same time, she exited, spun, and made her way to the burger joint. Cody watched the performance again with unusual curiosity, though flushed with humiliation when he found Myron sneering at him.
Myron turned and squinted thoughtfully at the girl as well, then smiled and gave Cody a knowing look.
Cody raised an eyebrow. Grinning, Myron pointed at the bagel shop, then at the soup café, then at the burger joint, and then, eyes wide, swept his finger around the rest of the arc, pausing in the direction of the deli before tapping the counter of Chickin Kitchin itself. To continue his illustration, he walked up and down the service station, nibbling on samples and looking indecisive. He concluded by attempting to take a sample of Cody, who promptly smacked him in the face with a slab of chicken-fried steak.
When at the same time on Thursday the girl crossed over to the deli, Myron pumped his fist and screamed triumphantly against the pounding music. A female would be entering his store within twenty-four hours; priorities quickly redistributed themselves.
News of her continued to trickle in from the community. The unnaturally perky ladies at the bagel shop found her too standoffish; they had been unusually unsuccessful in drawing her into conversation. The grumbling staff of the soup café complained of her indecisiveness, for her careful and onerous study of the menu had caused confusion and delay among the powerlunching crowd behind her. The stoners at the burger joint decided that she needed to mellow out; it seemed that every little thing made her jumpy and what little speech she produced was tentative and stammered out. The clerk at the deli, who claimed to be studying psychology, deducedin the time it took her to order her sandwichthat she was suffering from depression or anxiety, or was perhaps just lame.
By most accounts she was fairly pretty, with the cutestseriously, the cutest everlittle curl of brown hair falling over one eye and an adorable baby face. The initial reports of her bust were corroborated by the burger chefs and were joined by rumors of a nice butt, to Myrons immense delight.
She drove a new-looking car, a little eco-friendly thing with a Thalia University window sticker. She was thus evidently a student nearby, but didnt seem young enough to be an undergrad. There was a hint of an accent, too: she had originated a little further south. She wasnt merely new to the shopping plaza, therefore, but to the upper Midwest entirely, and the communitys scrutiny increased.
Friday, right on time, she exited the bank, turned, and began walking toward Chickin Kitchin. Myron, who had been disturbingly giddy all morning, now vibrated with glee. He had washed his uniform for the first time in far too long and had even shaved for the occasion. He had spent the past hour using a pair of rotisserie chickens to demonstrate some of his favorite fantasies.
Cody, though he would never admit it, had given himself an extra thirty seconds of time in front of the mirror that morning, unsure why his appearance suddenly mattered but unable to deny his instincts. Somewhere in the back of his mind a scene was playing out in which the mystery girl leapt over the counter to him and demanded that he force-feed her French fries while they had wild animal sex on the prep table in all the positions Myrons chickens had demonstrated.
It took some effort to push that thought away and Cody involuntarily checked to see if Myron had somehow heard it. Myron, whose telepathy was undeveloped anyway, was too transfixed on the approaching figure. Cody sighed and poked his tongs at a pile of French fries in the hot case. Myron tapped impatiently at the cash register.
The glass door swung open. A short, rosy cheeked young woman stepped inside, looking prim in the skirt, blouse, and vest of the bank uniform. Immediately she was overwhelmed by the kitchens musicshe instinctively took half a step back as though struck by an invisible force.
She pressed her hands to her ears and crossed over to the counter. Cody found himself studying her as she walked, feeling less lewd knowing that a few yards away his co-worker was studying her even harder.
The bosom was as inviting as reported, with a tease of cleavage visible where the blouse opened. The skirt shaped and presented her tight derriere and the thighs beneath it most admirably. Her white blouse fluttered loosely over lightly tanned skin and her bob of curly hair was pushed back under a pair of sunglasses.
Reaching the counter, she cautiously lifted her hands from her ears and opened her mouth to speak.
Cody stopped her with a wave, turned slightly, and gestured to the plugs in his ears.
She gaped. He smiled and shrugged.
Holding up a finger, she dug in her purse and found a pair of headphones. They were real headphones, too, not mere earbuds. Impressed, Cody pointed this out to Myron. He nodded.
The headphones secured, the girl took a deep breath, then gave Cody a thumbs-up. He smiled and unfolded his arms toward the spread of food in the hot case: pans of fried chicken parts, pans of chicken tenders, pans of chicken-fried steak, and the numerous pans of overflowing side dishes. He slapped a tray on the counter and bowed.
She smiled at him and slid over to the glass of the hot case, looking dutifully impressed by all the offerings. He pulled up a plate for her and ran it up and down the line of food, awaiting her decision.
She took a surprisingly long time deciding, squinting in at each dish and puffing out her cheeks thoughtfully. Cody waited patiently, following her gaze with the empty plate. Myron leaned against the cash register until he lost interest and resumed staring out the window.
Eventually she pointed decisively at the chicken tenders, which Cody promptly heaped onto the plate. He dropped the plate on the tray and turned to find her giving him an inquisitive look.
He raised an eyebrow. She gestured to the last pan in the line of side dishes and frowned.
Understanding the question, he gestured to an advertisement on the wall heralding the arrival of cheese curds at the restaurant. She studied the poster for a moment, then threw up her hands in an admission of ignorance.
Cody gave her a playfully shocked look, but reached over and tonged a few of the little fried balls of cheese into a sample cup. He passed this across the glass to her and watched her tentatively bite down into one.
Her face froze. She chewed pensively, staring at the cup. Cody glanced at Myron, who rolled his eyes.
Suddenly the girl nodded vehemently and pointed at the pan of cheese curds.
Cody chuckled and dished up a basket for her. Normally the curds were served as a side option in a little paper boat, but Codys mind had spent the day dreaming about stuffing the mystery new girls face with fried food and all sorts of other things; serving her a full-sized portion there in reality seemed like a harmless appeasement to his silent fantasies.
Regardless, if she noticed the unusual serving size, she wasnt displeased. The basket joined the plate on her tray and were delivered to Myron at the register. She paid, gave both clerks a grateful smile, and sidled over to a booth.
Myron watched her go, or at least part of her, then shook his head. He widened his eyes comically and imitated the girls slow, deliberate study of the case. Cody shrugged.
Evidently disappointed, Myron gestured that he was going out for a smoke and disappeared into the back.
Cody sighed. Alone at the counter, he had to poke around enough at the food and utensils to appear busyit was store policy to never loungeat the least busy time of the day. The girl had been their first customer in nearly an hour and they were unlikely to see anyone else soon.
He glanced occasionally at her, trying to keep himself from actively watching. She had produced a paperback from her purse and appeared to be entirely absorbed in it. As she read, though, she methodically consumed the chicken tenders and then, to Codys confused amusement, the whole basket of cheese curds.
He watched her swallow the last bite, savoring it. Her chest heaved suddenly, her cheeks puffed out, and she exhaled slowly. Cody smoothed the front of his apron.
She slid out of the booth and stood slowly, one hand to her stomach. Glancing up, she caught him looking, gestured to the empty basket, and gave him a very impressed thumbs-up. She hiccupped daintily as she did so and her cheeks flushed.
He smiled and gave a polite bowit was all he could manage. She curtsied in return, then turned and began digging in her purse. He took this as an indication that their interaction had ended and though part of him wished desperately to ensure its continuation his discretion prevailed. He shook his head at himself and slunk away into the kitchen.
He lingered, however, at a prep station close enough to the kitchen door to sneak a view of her. A quick glance around showed that Myron was not around to call him out and he squinted through the grease-splattered window.
The girl had pulled from her purse an old camera. She thumbed at it a bit, then glanced around the room as well. Cody froze as her eyes passed over the kitchen, but they miraculously appeared to miss him.
She furtively untucked and unbuttoned her bank tellers blouse. She glanced out the window, then untucked the tank top she wore underneath and tugged up on it to reveal her smooth, slender abdomen. The buttoned waistband of the skirt fit loosely and she was able to slide it down an inch or two to expose more of her midsection.
Leaning weirdly, with one hand holding the blouse open and the tank up, she held the camera out with her other hand and snapped several quick pictures of her stomach. Cody was at a bad angle to see much detail of it, but it didnt seem like a remarkable featuregently contoured, fairly narrow, curved with a slight food baby after her large lunch. She hiccupped again and faint stomach muscles could be seen contracting.
Satisfied with her photoshoot, she hurriedly tucked and buttoned again. She smoothed the vest over the ensemble, let out a relieved sigh, and made her way out the door.
Before she disappeared Cody caught her hiccup once again as she checked her hair in the store window. She pressed a hand to her chest where the blouse opened, bouncing magnificently, and then she was gone around the corner.
Curds and Weigh
by Marlow
by Marlow
Chapter one
There was a new teller at the bank. Word of her spread quickly around the shopping plaza: the girls at the hair salon had noticed her first and complained about her bouncy bronze ringlets to the staff of the dress shop, who spent an hour staring across the parking lot into the windows of the bank and texting their contacts in the neighboring stores about it.
It was a small, tightly woven community of young sales associates, stylists, cleaners, and line cooks enduring the service industry in order to pay for grad school, art school, and juniors preschool; a community desperately tired of itself and fiercely intrigued by anything new. The stores and restaurants in the plaza were slowly failing and their employees could only pass the time until they graduated and moved on or until the shop finally shut down. A new employee was an opportunity to watch another set of young dreams die.
Thus it was still morning when news reached Cody, fry cook at the 'Chickin Kitchin' and generally the last in line for gossip. It reached him in the form of two fried chicken breasts dangling suddenly in front of his faceMyron, his oft-insufferable workmate, apparently wished to convey that the bank's new teller was reported to possess an impressive bosom.
Cody acknowledged this with a dutifully impressed expression and encouraged Myron to get back to his dishwashing. Cody liked boobs as much as the next man, but had six more hours of sullen brooding to get to and couldnt waste time on things like excitement and happiness.
Of the shopping plazas five failing food offerings, Chickin Kitchin was the most misspelled and the least patronized. Most of the upscale locals hated it, preferring their organic tofu purees and the like, but it attracted a devoted collection of lower-class families who swore by its inexpensive oily goodness. The menu offered only items that could be battered, passed through a deep fryer, and stored under a heat lamp in a long countertop hot case. The restaurant had no illusions about itself. It was fairly clean but disinterestedly decorated, oddly lit, and overflowing with deafening music at all times.
Customers were generally taken aback by the musics volume, but after a visit or two usually came to realize its true value: as it had been rendered impossible for customer and server to hear one another, none of the service industrys customary, soulless conversation was necessary. Customers pointed to items in the case and Cody dished up the items. Money was exchanged, occasionally accompanied by a smile or a nod. There were never complaints, there were never special requests, and there were fewer hatreds developed.
Much of the time Cody was free to stick in his earplugs, nod his head with the thump of the music, grimace, and stare out the storefront at customers going everywhere else. He watched a mother herd a group of children into a minivan. He watched a young couple walk across the lot, holding hands. They were considerably overweight and their bodies bounced happily into one anothers as they waddled; Cody grimaced more, straightened his apron, and scratched the back of his head. He watched a pair of sparrows fight over a discarded bag of chips, then caught sight of the new bank teller exit the bank.
She paused on the sidewalk, blinking in the midday June sun, and slowly turned in a circle, furtively noting things to herself with her index finger. Cody watched as one of the things marked proved to be his exact direction and realized she was counting the plazas restaurants. She turned around again, apparently uncertain, then strode off in the opposite direction, to the fancy bagel-sandwich shop.
Cody glared and involuntarily rapped his knuckles on the countertop. He frowned at himself for a moment, shook his head, and retreated into the dishroom. One more endless Monday.
Tuesday afternoon he saw her exit the bank again. She spun in her same circle, paused, then headed off across the lot toward the soup café.
Wednesday, at precisely the same time, she exited, spun, and made her way to the burger joint. Cody watched the performance again with unusual curiosity, though flushed with humiliation when he found Myron sneering at him.
Myron turned and squinted thoughtfully at the girl as well, then smiled and gave Cody a knowing look.
Cody raised an eyebrow. Grinning, Myron pointed at the bagel shop, then at the soup café, then at the burger joint, and then, eyes wide, swept his finger around the rest of the arc, pausing in the direction of the deli before tapping the counter of Chickin Kitchin itself. To continue his illustration, he walked up and down the service station, nibbling on samples and looking indecisive. He concluded by attempting to take a sample of Cody, who promptly smacked him in the face with a slab of chicken-fried steak.
When at the same time on Thursday the girl crossed over to the deli, Myron pumped his fist and screamed triumphantly against the pounding music. A female would be entering his store within twenty-four hours; priorities quickly redistributed themselves.
News of her continued to trickle in from the community. The unnaturally perky ladies at the bagel shop found her too standoffish; they had been unusually unsuccessful in drawing her into conversation. The grumbling staff of the soup café complained of her indecisiveness, for her careful and onerous study of the menu had caused confusion and delay among the powerlunching crowd behind her. The stoners at the burger joint decided that she needed to mellow out; it seemed that every little thing made her jumpy and what little speech she produced was tentative and stammered out. The clerk at the deli, who claimed to be studying psychology, deducedin the time it took her to order her sandwichthat she was suffering from depression or anxiety, or was perhaps just lame.
By most accounts she was fairly pretty, with the cutestseriously, the cutest everlittle curl of brown hair falling over one eye and an adorable baby face. The initial reports of her bust were corroborated by the burger chefs and were joined by rumors of a nice butt, to Myrons immense delight.
She drove a new-looking car, a little eco-friendly thing with a Thalia University window sticker. She was thus evidently a student nearby, but didnt seem young enough to be an undergrad. There was a hint of an accent, too: she had originated a little further south. She wasnt merely new to the shopping plaza, therefore, but to the upper Midwest entirely, and the communitys scrutiny increased.
Friday, right on time, she exited the bank, turned, and began walking toward Chickin Kitchin. Myron, who had been disturbingly giddy all morning, now vibrated with glee. He had washed his uniform for the first time in far too long and had even shaved for the occasion. He had spent the past hour using a pair of rotisserie chickens to demonstrate some of his favorite fantasies.
Cody, though he would never admit it, had given himself an extra thirty seconds of time in front of the mirror that morning, unsure why his appearance suddenly mattered but unable to deny his instincts. Somewhere in the back of his mind a scene was playing out in which the mystery girl leapt over the counter to him and demanded that he force-feed her French fries while they had wild animal sex on the prep table in all the positions Myrons chickens had demonstrated.
It took some effort to push that thought away and Cody involuntarily checked to see if Myron had somehow heard it. Myron, whose telepathy was undeveloped anyway, was too transfixed on the approaching figure. Cody sighed and poked his tongs at a pile of French fries in the hot case. Myron tapped impatiently at the cash register.
The glass door swung open. A short, rosy cheeked young woman stepped inside, looking prim in the skirt, blouse, and vest of the bank uniform. Immediately she was overwhelmed by the kitchens musicshe instinctively took half a step back as though struck by an invisible force.
She pressed her hands to her ears and crossed over to the counter. Cody found himself studying her as she walked, feeling less lewd knowing that a few yards away his co-worker was studying her even harder.
The bosom was as inviting as reported, with a tease of cleavage visible where the blouse opened. The skirt shaped and presented her tight derriere and the thighs beneath it most admirably. Her white blouse fluttered loosely over lightly tanned skin and her bob of curly hair was pushed back under a pair of sunglasses.
Reaching the counter, she cautiously lifted her hands from her ears and opened her mouth to speak.
Cody stopped her with a wave, turned slightly, and gestured to the plugs in his ears.
She gaped. He smiled and shrugged.
Holding up a finger, she dug in her purse and found a pair of headphones. They were real headphones, too, not mere earbuds. Impressed, Cody pointed this out to Myron. He nodded.
The headphones secured, the girl took a deep breath, then gave Cody a thumbs-up. He smiled and unfolded his arms toward the spread of food in the hot case: pans of fried chicken parts, pans of chicken tenders, pans of chicken-fried steak, and the numerous pans of overflowing side dishes. He slapped a tray on the counter and bowed.
She smiled at him and slid over to the glass of the hot case, looking dutifully impressed by all the offerings. He pulled up a plate for her and ran it up and down the line of food, awaiting her decision.
She took a surprisingly long time deciding, squinting in at each dish and puffing out her cheeks thoughtfully. Cody waited patiently, following her gaze with the empty plate. Myron leaned against the cash register until he lost interest and resumed staring out the window.
Eventually she pointed decisively at the chicken tenders, which Cody promptly heaped onto the plate. He dropped the plate on the tray and turned to find her giving him an inquisitive look.
He raised an eyebrow. She gestured to the last pan in the line of side dishes and frowned.
Understanding the question, he gestured to an advertisement on the wall heralding the arrival of cheese curds at the restaurant. She studied the poster for a moment, then threw up her hands in an admission of ignorance.
Cody gave her a playfully shocked look, but reached over and tonged a few of the little fried balls of cheese into a sample cup. He passed this across the glass to her and watched her tentatively bite down into one.
Her face froze. She chewed pensively, staring at the cup. Cody glanced at Myron, who rolled his eyes.
Suddenly the girl nodded vehemently and pointed at the pan of cheese curds.
Cody chuckled and dished up a basket for her. Normally the curds were served as a side option in a little paper boat, but Codys mind had spent the day dreaming about stuffing the mystery new girls face with fried food and all sorts of other things; serving her a full-sized portion there in reality seemed like a harmless appeasement to his silent fantasies.
Regardless, if she noticed the unusual serving size, she wasnt displeased. The basket joined the plate on her tray and were delivered to Myron at the register. She paid, gave both clerks a grateful smile, and sidled over to a booth.
Myron watched her go, or at least part of her, then shook his head. He widened his eyes comically and imitated the girls slow, deliberate study of the case. Cody shrugged.
Evidently disappointed, Myron gestured that he was going out for a smoke and disappeared into the back.
Cody sighed. Alone at the counter, he had to poke around enough at the food and utensils to appear busyit was store policy to never loungeat the least busy time of the day. The girl had been their first customer in nearly an hour and they were unlikely to see anyone else soon.
He glanced occasionally at her, trying to keep himself from actively watching. She had produced a paperback from her purse and appeared to be entirely absorbed in it. As she read, though, she methodically consumed the chicken tenders and then, to Codys confused amusement, the whole basket of cheese curds.
He watched her swallow the last bite, savoring it. Her chest heaved suddenly, her cheeks puffed out, and she exhaled slowly. Cody smoothed the front of his apron.
She slid out of the booth and stood slowly, one hand to her stomach. Glancing up, she caught him looking, gestured to the empty basket, and gave him a very impressed thumbs-up. She hiccupped daintily as she did so and her cheeks flushed.
He smiled and gave a polite bowit was all he could manage. She curtsied in return, then turned and began digging in her purse. He took this as an indication that their interaction had ended and though part of him wished desperately to ensure its continuation his discretion prevailed. He shook his head at himself and slunk away into the kitchen.
He lingered, however, at a prep station close enough to the kitchen door to sneak a view of her. A quick glance around showed that Myron was not around to call him out and he squinted through the grease-splattered window.
The girl had pulled from her purse an old camera. She thumbed at it a bit, then glanced around the room as well. Cody froze as her eyes passed over the kitchen, but they miraculously appeared to miss him.
She furtively untucked and unbuttoned her bank tellers blouse. She glanced out the window, then untucked the tank top she wore underneath and tugged up on it to reveal her smooth, slender abdomen. The buttoned waistband of the skirt fit loosely and she was able to slide it down an inch or two to expose more of her midsection.
Leaning weirdly, with one hand holding the blouse open and the tank up, she held the camera out with her other hand and snapped several quick pictures of her stomach. Cody was at a bad angle to see much detail of it, but it didnt seem like a remarkable featuregently contoured, fairly narrow, curved with a slight food baby after her large lunch. She hiccupped again and faint stomach muscles could be seen contracting.
Satisfied with her photoshoot, she hurriedly tucked and buttoned again. She smoothed the vest over the ensemble, let out a relieved sigh, and made her way out the door.
Before she disappeared Cody caught her hiccup once again as she checked her hair in the store window. She pressed a hand to her chest where the blouse opened, bouncing magnificently, and then she was gone around the corner.
