The Victoria Blisse Collection Page 4

  “I think I’ll manage.” She rolls her eyes as he walks away from her.

  “Oh, I’m sure you will. Just have to cover all the bases. Catch you later.”

  Jamie moves through the other members of the staff, confidently chatting and laughing as he checks everything is ready to go.

  “She’s a bit, you know…” Fiona comments as they serve two hungry students, “…timid. I don’t think she’s going to last long.”

  “Oh, I don’t know, she doesn’t strike me as a quitter. Even you were quiet on your first day, Fiona, you soon found your tongue.”

  “Well, I suppose you’re right. I know how to use it now too.” She slowly licks her lips, and Jamie blushes and looks away.

  Carrie, meanwhile, is already thoroughly sick of tossing burgers. The smell, the sight and the sound are all making her feel rather queasy.

  “You get used to it.” Graham aims a weak, pale smile her way. “I mean the smell, anyway. Are you at the University?”

  “Yes.” Carrie replies, smiling at the skinny, shy boy, “I’m doing English. You?”

  “Nah, we could never afford it. I just work here and when I’m not working here I work in the factory. Brings in the money I guess.”

  “Have you been here long?” Carrie’s natural shyness is overridden by her boredom.

  “Since it opened.” Graham beams proudly, the livid red spots on his chin aligning into a curve like his smile. “I’m the longest serving member of staff here. Most people don’t last more than a year or two.”

  Carrie could understand why. What boring, monotonous work, but it would pay her bills and get her through university and then, well then maybe she could do something she loved and finally be happy with her life.

  * * * *

  “Come on, fatty, keep up.” Steve barks at Carrie as she tries desperately to flip ten burgers all at the same time. “We’ve got customers waiting.”

  “Ignore him,” Graham hisses once Steve moves back over to the tills. “He’s a total wanker.”

  Carrie smiles weakly at Graham, who she’s struck up a low level friendship with over the last day or two. She slips the burgers on to the warmer and flips more raw meat onto her grill. Saturdays, apparently, are hard work and Steve is not making the job any easier, breezing around with his stubby nose in the air, barking commands and doing little to no work himself, making the rest of them work harder to compensate.

  It’s quite simple for Carrie to slip into a little protective world of her own as Steve yells and shouts his way around the kitchen. Carrie is used to it. Being called fatty is nothing new and now it barely even hurts her any more. How can you be wounded by a name that fits you so well?

  It started out with her Dad, he called her fatty so much she all but forgot her real name after her mum died. The kids at school were just as cruel. Even though she wasn’t being fed at home, she was still tall with curves that weren’t expected for a teenager. However, at school it was only words, not so at home. She spent as such time as she could in school and that is what finally saved her from the loving grip of her father and put her into the relative safety of the home. The taunting continued but she knew how to deal with it. At sixteen she got her own flat and finally had a place to escape from the world.

  “Yoo hoo, oy, fatty, you’ve burnt the damn burgers, you fucking retard.”

  Steve’s clicking fingers bring her out of her daydream. She then hears the beeping alarm that tells her the burgers need flipping, so she flips them.

  “No, doofus, they’re overdone. They need to go in the bin and you’ll be docked the price from your damn pay packet and I’ll tell my uncle how incompetent you are, fatty. So stupid you can’t even flip a burger.”

  The whole room is deadly silent, the customers pausing mid-burger bite, the servers ceasing their serving.

  “They look alright to me.” Carrie says, pointing to the grilled burger, the bars of colour only slightly darker than they normally would be.

  “Oh, oh they do, do they?” Steve’s sweaty, porcine face turns red and his eyes seem to bulge as he takes a step closer to Carrie, his body just a mere hair’s breadth from touching her. “Well, I say they need to go into the fucking bin and I’m the fucking boss, do you hear me? You’re the damn spaced out retard who wasn’t paying attention to what she was doing. Fuck, you’re stupid as well as fat.”

  “Steve, you can’t speak to Carrie like that.”

  Jamie is standing just behind Steve, his hands on his hips, a stern look plastered over his usually smiling face.

  “Who says?” Steve spins his head to the side and glares.

  “Me.”

  “And who the fuck do you think you are?”

  “I’m the senior manager here, mate, and I don’t care who your damn uncle is, I’ll fire your ass if you speak to one of my members of staff like that ever again. Do you hear me?” Jamie’s eyes are burning with anger, his fist straining at the side of his body.

  The burger alarm pings and Carrie turns round to flip them off the grill and onto the warmer. Steve lets out a shuddering breath.

  “Fine, whatever. My shift is over now anyway but my uncle will be hearing about this incompetence.”

  As he stalks off, he quite deliberately pushes Carrie in the back, sending her forward over the hot grill. She automatically puts her hand out to balance, and it comes down on the scalding hot metal before her.

  “Oops.” Steve laughs as he walks out of the building, Jamie dashes forward and grabs Carrie by the wrist, he pulls her to the sink where he puts the cold tap on full and dunks her hand under it.

  “He’s a bloody wanker.” Jamie hisses under his breath, and then he shouts over his shoulder,

  “Back to work people, Carrie is going to be fine. Fiona, finish serving your customer then take over the grill, please.”

  Carrie knows it hurts, she can feel the throbbing of the burn beneath the icy pain of the running water but Carrie learnt not to cry or to show fear or pain many years ago, when burns like this were a common place punishment for minor indiscretions.

  “Carrie, are you okay?” Jamie is stooping down slightly to look directly into her eyes, she nods, blinking back the tears that threaten to fall.

  “You’re not really, are you? No, well he’s a prick. I’ll be reporting him, he can’t get away with behaviour like that. We’ll keep this under the running water for a bit longer then we’ll see how bad it is.”

  Carrie nods again, a tear slipping down her cheek, not from the pain but from the sympathy shown by this virtual stranger.

  “We’ll fix you up, don’t worry.” Jamie runs a hand up and down her arm and she flinches away, her mind still caught up in remembered abuse.

  “Sorry.” He coughs, removing his hand as if he himself had just been burnt.

  “No, I’m sorry.” Carrie smiles weakly. “I’m just, you know, worked up.”

  Jamie smiles, running a hand through his hair.

  “I can only imagine.” He grins. “How’s the hand feeling?”

  “Numb,” she replies, the cold water having now overcome the stinging pain of the burnt flesh beneath.

  Jamie turns off the tap and looks at her hand.

  “It looks like you’re lucky. It’s just red and swollen, but I’m going to take you to the hospital anyway.”

  “Oh no, I’ll just…”

  “Carrie, I’m taking you to the hospital and that is final. That is a major burn and it is my duty to see you get treated for it.”

  “But it just needs…”

  “No buts, you’re going.”

  Carrie stops arguing but she knows the docs will just clean it and lightly cover it. She could do that at home but Jamie is the boss and it is his conscience that will be salved by a trip to the local infirmary.

  * * * *

  “I can’t believe how brave you�
��re being.” Jamie says as they sit on orange plastic chairs waiting to be assessed by the triage nurse. “I’d be wailing like a baby by now if it was me.”

  “I’m used to it.” Carrie shrugs. “I’ve had worse.”

  “Really?” Jamie shakes his head. “I’m so sorry, Carrie.”

  “What for?” Carrie’s brow crinkles up with confusion.

  “For this.” He waves his hand at her hand. “It shouldn’t have happened.”

  “It’s not your fault that Steve is a callous bastard.” She shrugs. “You’ve done more than enough to help me. Thanks.”

  “It’s the least I can do. You’re at the University, right?”

  “Yeah,” Carrie nods, “doing English, I’ve got masses of work to do this week.” She looks down at her hand, “I’m going to have to learn to type one handed.”

  “Well, that is a useful skill…” Jamie grins cheekily and Carrie giggles.

  “Are you at Uni, too?”

  “Yeah, business studies, my last year.”

  Carrie nods, “I just started in September.”

  “Enjoying it?” Jamie asks.

  “Yes, I am.” Carrie smiles. This had been her dream for years and even though it’s hard juggling schoolwork and the burger place, she’s happy to be doing it. “How about you?”

  “Not really.” He shrugs. “It’s not my thing, but Dad insists, you know.”

  Carrie nods, even though she doesn’t really know, and just then her name is announced and she walks off to triage.

  * * * *

  “Are you sure you’ll be okay?”

  Carrie nods and smiles. “I’ll be fine, thank you.”

  “Well, alright. I don’t want to see you at work till Friday at the earliest, though.” Jamie begins to wind up the car window.

  “But, I can’t afford to…”

  The window stops half way up,

  “Don’t worry, you’ll get paid. It’ll be a bit less than if you worked, but you’ll get paid. I’ll see to that.”

  “Well, okay. Thanks, Jamie.”

  “You’re welcome, Carrie. Take care, okay? Rest that hand.”

  “Okay.” Carrie blushes and then waves with her good hand as Jamie starts up the engine and drives away.

  She knew her hand would be looked at, washed and dressed, and that was exactly what happened. She knows it will probably heal up slowly because of damage done by previous burns. However, she used to work with a burnt hand literally minutes after it happened, so it will be a luxury to rest it for a few days.

  Carrie finds herself thinking about Jamie’s gentle touch as she opens the door to her little student flat. She remembers his concern and the way he jumped to her defense. Carrie sighs, slipping off her coat carefully and hanging it behind the door.

  She mustn’t think like this. It will come to nothing. Jamie is handsome, though. His trendy, soft blond hair trailing just into his eyes so his hand is constantly flipping it out of the way. His lean body oh, yeah, especially his tight buttocks. The cheap polyester of his work trousers clings to his butt very nicely indeed. And then there’s his eyes. You know those kind of piercing animal eyes you see on hawks and big cats and other predatory beasts? Well Jamie has predatory eyes, bright, blue and blazing with intelligence, cunning and charm.

  Carrie slips off her turquoise tabard. She unbuttons her blouse, shrugs out of her trousers, then picks all the clothes up from the floor and places them in the washing basket.

  She avoids looking down at her body as she takes off her bra. Taking away the support that holds her breasts in check, they drop and wobble to a standstill on her chest and she lets out another frustrated sigh as she slips off her knickers and her stomach greets her gaze.

  Fat, she thinks. No, she knows she is fat and she knows Jamie could never be interested in her, oh goodness no. No man will ever be interested in her. She pads over to her bed and lifts the long, cotton nightdress up off the pillow and places it over her head, letting its copious folds hide her body away. Snuggling down under the duvet, she remembers Andrew, the only man to ever touch her sexually. He’d been bumbling and hesitant, but eager. A wry smile crosses her lips as she remembers the way they pawed at each other in the back seat of his car, rushing to see as much as they could, to touch it all before the booze wore off and their shyness would return.

  That was the sum total of her sex life, one fumbled fuck in the back of a battered up old Ford Fiesta with a fellow virgin. Well, least he was gentle and caring even if he was, well, fast. Andrew’s fumbling is not what fuels Carrie’s fantasies. No, she always dreams of raw, passionate, animalistic sex. She imagines a pretend him holding her down as he mounts her, slapping her arse before fucking her, face down in the sheets.

  She always feels a little ashamed after these fantasies, wondering what in her diseased, abused mind makes her crave a similar kind of abuse to get off. Vanilla sex just can’t cut it though and in her fantasies she never feels scared or repulsed like she did when her father hurt her. No, in her fantasies she feels cared for, she feels powerful as her man loses all control over the sight of her curves and the feel of her cunt around his cock.

  She feels worshipped, not downtrodden. Although if she confessed such fantasies to a counselor, she knew they would condemn such foolish fantasies as some kind of mental sickness. Still, she finds comfort in them for a while, imagining herself attractive until orgasm, when the reality of her ugliness hits home and often makes her sob herself to sleep.

  Behind her closed eyelids Carrie attempts to sleep, her body is tired, her mind is exhausted but her cunt is alive. His touch is being played over and over again in her mind until it bends into a new fantasy. Jamie has her serving the customers, but it’s late and no one is in. He walks past her and squeezes her bum, then repeats the action as he brushes past again. She is staring into space when he pushes her forward, grinding his hardened cock into her clothed bum.

  She gasps out her protest as he rips down her trousers and knickers, leaving her exposed and vulnerable.

  “Shush,” he commands, dipping his fingers between her globes, “My sweet, wet slut, shush. I need to fuck you now.”

  The fingers of her left hand slip between her thighs as she fantasizes, trying to alleviate the throb there. Her fingers slip and slide and she whimpers in frustration as her weaker hand strains to satisfy her lust.

  “No,” she protests. “Someone could come in.”

  “Let them,” he hisses. She hears his pants drop to the floor and she rises up in panic.

  “Oh no you don’t.” He growls, pushing her back down roughly, pinning her arms down to the counter as he mounts her. “Oh fuck, you’re so wet and tight,” he moans as he holds his hardness inside of her. She looks to the shop door, praying no one comes in as he begins to pump, thrusting her against the hard counter top.

  “Yes, you dirty slut,” he hisses. “Drown my cock in your juices.”

  She always gets off on the dirty talk. She loves her fantasy man calling her such names because he’s so hot and so horny that he cannot help himself.

  He fucks her hard and fast and thoroughly. She wanks in time to her fantasy but her left fingers do not know her cunt as well as her right and she is finding it difficult to get the stimulation she needs to come.

  Eventually she lets her fantasy climax, him inside her, the bell on the door jingling just as he pours his jism inside of her, but her real cunt cannot achieve release. Her arm aches, her cunt drips and spasms but she cannot coax a climax from its depths with her weak hand. She sighs, shakes her head and closes her eyes, the thwarted orgasm still tingling between her thighs.

  * * * *

  “I have gone loopy this week.” Carrie shakes her head as she talks to Graham, “All I’ve had to do is school work and do you know how hard it is to type one handed?”

  Graham looks flustered. “Well yes, I d
o. You end up with lots of typos, right?”

  “Right, I swear I’m going to have to do double the work on this dissertation now, going back and correcting it all.”

  “When you were talking about typing one handed I thought you were discussing cyber sex.” Jamie breezes past, grinning.

  “No.” Carrie shakes her head, “You can’t get a moment’s privacy ‘round here can you?” She tuts, flips her burgers, and continues her conversation. “So, I’m glad to be back if truth be known.”

  “We’re glad to have you back.” Jamie squeezes her shoulder as he brushes past again, turning Carrie’s knees to jelly. “Can you stay on until midnight tonight?”

  “Oh, erm, well, I have to get a bus back to hall-”

  “It’s okay, I’ll give you a lift. The late night guy just called in sick.”

  “Well, alright then.” Carrie smiles. “You’ve twisted my arm.”

  “You’re a star, Carrie dear.”

  “Hey, you never call me a star.” Fiona pouts. “You’re giving her preferential treatment.”

  “Fiona, you are a star.” Jamie rolls his eyes. “Hot headed and full of gas.”

  The burger place erupts with laughter, even some of the customers join in. Carrie finds herself feeling at home for one of the first times in her life. It makes her a little uncomfortable and a bit morose, but beneath those reactive emotions she feels content. She might feel upset about what she has missed in her life to date, but this place makes her happy, as sad as some people might think that is.

  The friendly banter continues as the day continues, everyone is in a good mood because it is Friday. Students are planning for their night out, corporate workers are looking forward to a weekend in the country and the football fans are excited about the matches to come. It gets quieter as the afternoon turns to evening and evening to night. Soon Jamie and Carrie are the only employees left.

  “I think it’ll be pretty quiet now.” Jamie nods, “We close before most of the clubs round here kick out so once the pre-club rush is over, it’s pretty boring in here.”