2-Careful

Lola-On the evening of Thursday, the 22nd

The 1950s theme restaurant I work for, Toby’s Family Diner, is the best downtown. Its fun retro look of the black and white checkered floor and red accents make it a crisp and clean environment to work in.

The owner, Tobias, has plans to expand, and I can’t wait to see our new malt shop. It won’t be open as late as the diner, but who enjoys the late shift? Getting out after midnight always sucks. Regardless, I never have enough time before or after work to do anything fun. Not that my life is exciting these days.

Tonight’s shift went by quickly, at least. Not great with tips, but I have good company alongside Mia, the assistant manager and hostess. She’s the main reason I have this job, and I love her for it.

I met Mia two years ago in our college lit class, and we became fast friends. Sisters from other misters, she calls us. It’s sad. Next to my journal, Mia knows me the best. Being my only friend, she’s also my ride-or-die contact in emergencies.

“Be careful with your hand, Lo,” Mia prods while I work on a table, “don’t scrub too hard.”

“I’m fine. I can clean,” I reply, gritting my teeth through the pain.

Mia’s no fool, unimpressed with my answer and narrowing her eyes at me. But she doesn’t push for information on my injury. However, we both know that my hand isn’t okay. Yet, I force a smile to appease her genuine concern.

“Hey, Lola, the kitchen is finished,” the night chef, Mr. Mason, shouts. “How are you ladies doing up front?”

“I’m almost done cleaning everything,” I yell, continuing my duties, “and Mia is marrying the condiments.”

“Do you mustard, take this bottle, in condiment matrimony? We do,” Mia jokes, animating the bottles with kissing sounds.

We continuously giggle together while I help Mia with the rest. I shake my head at her silly antics. The three of us often close the restaurant together, and I affectionately dubbed us the midnight crew.

At least this closing shift is entertaining while Mr. Mason sings along to Elvis playing over the jukebox. Dancing around, Mia and I twirl each other about rocking out to the tunes. It’s the best feeling during a hard day. After cleaning up, I grab my purse and leftover Pot Pie dinner and head outside. Mia sets the alarm and locks the doors while Mr. Mason and I wait patiently. I’m pulling out my phone when Mia turns back to me.

“You got a ride, Lo?” she asks after digging out her car keys.

“Yep, Nathan,” I yawn, exhausted.

“Great, see you tomorrow,” she says, waving goodbye.

Mia drives off in her silver car. Her red tail lights disappear into the night, leaving Mr. Mason and me to wait for Nathan. My phone buzzes with a text, which I see is Nathan telling me he’s now on his way.

“How long before he gets here?” Mr. Mason questions, checking his watch.

Nathan could be at his apartment, but he’s more than likely drinking. If he’s at his friend’s house, he won’t be long, which means Nathan will be drunk.

“Fifteen more minutes,” I shrug my shoulders, unsure where Nathan might be.

“How about we sit in my car to keep warm then,” Mr. Mason offers, motioning to his vehicle.

Mr. Mason loves food like me, which is a comfort. Unlike the other cooks here, he’s an older gentleman of sixty years with salt and pepper hair. His family is large, all girls, and he’s always talking about them.

“Sounds good to me. Thanks,” I follow behind, shivering.

We sit in his car, and Mr. Mason turns over the engine to heat the space. I place my hands on the vents and defrost as the warm air hits me. The comforting heat allows me to relax from the chill of the night outside.

“So, how’s Miss Lola? Any big projects coming up,” he asks like my dad would, and I chuckle.

“You sound as if you’re asking one of your daughters about schoolwork,” I giggled, making him laugh.

“To be fair, Miss Lola, if you were my daughter and in school, I would do more than ask. I would be paying for it,” his kind words hold so much truth.

That sentiment breaks my heart. My father would have insisted on the same if he were still alive. Education was important to him, but my mom taught me how to cook and why I took culinary classes on the side.

Sadly my parents died in a car crash about five years ago, and I was devastated. The horrible incident left me with only my brother as my remaining family. He lives a town over, and we talk occasionally.

“Thank you, sir. I’m doing fine. I have bills to pay at the end of the month. Sadly, cleaning my apartment is the only major project in my future,” I reply, trying to sound all chipper about it.

I wish to go back but can’t afford it. I had to take this year off because of student loans. Not something I’m proud of, being delinquent on the payments, but I’m not about to say that.

We chitchat for a while when I hear rapid honking and see Nathan’s red truck pull up. I’m happy I get to go home finally. I gather my things, and Mr. Mason helps by opening my door.

He then walks me over to the truck. As we get closer, Nathan steps out, still dressed in his work clothes, looking annoyed. His hair is a mess like usual, and he has a scowl that doesn’t bode well.

“Babe, let’s go. It’s late,” Nathan says, pointing to his watch.

I wave at him and smile, then happily turn back to my escort. It’s cold and past midnight, making Mr. Mason the sweetest to wait with me. I do hope his daughters appreciate the man he is; I know I do.

“Thank you, sir, and have a goodnight.”

I give Mr. Mason a kind smile and lean into him for a side hug. He embraces me around the shoulder like my dad used to. The act makes me miss my father’s comforting arms and cherish this kindness and affection.

“I said get in the fucking truck Lola!” Nathan yells, hitting the truck door.

I can feel Mr. Mason tense in our hug, but he releases me quickly. Nathan’s sudden outburst makes my eyes shoot to him in worry. He’s usually better at hiding his rage in front of people, so this can’t be good.

“Goodnight, Miss Lola. Please be careful,” Me. Mason stresses.

“Night,” I whisper back to him, ashamed.

Mr. Mason glares at Nathan as he walks to his car. I see him shaking his head, disappointed with this situation. An ache settles in my chest at the thought of upsetting Mr. Mason. I must apologize for Nathan’s rudeness when we next see each other.

“Now, Lola!” Nathan snaps while I linger.

I get in the truck quickly while he’s snarling out the window. I follow his gaze to my co-worker. Mr. Mason is no wiser to Nathan’s mood, getting back into his car a few spaces over.

When Mr. Mason is gone, Nathan turns to me with fury in his eyes. I flinch away from his angry gaze, slumping into the seat, terrified of what he will do next.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, feeling nervous.

Nathan leans in incredibly close with the smell of alcohol on his breath. His hands roughly pull at my clothes to investigate me. I try to make myself as small as possible, but it’s useless.

“What’s going on with you two?” Nathan barks in my face, looking pissed. “Why the fuck were you in his car?”

“It was cold out,” I say, fidgeting with my phone.

“Then why was he hugging you all over?” he asks, giving me space.

“He was saying goodnight, Nathan,” I replied innocently, “it’s no big deal.”

I plug my phone in to charge, hoping this doesn’t worsen. I’m trying to ignore that Nathan is drunk and angry with me for nothing again, but he’s not making it easy. His furious stare has me feeling minor and insignificant.

“What the fuck were you doing with him?”

Nathan grabs me by the hair and pulls me across the seat to him. He has it by the roots, yanking harshly with each word while repeatedly demanding I answer.

“Stop it, Nathan,” I cry, my head starting to ache from the constant motion. “You’re hurting me!”

“That dirty old man put his hands on my girl, and you let him,” he rages, hitting my chest and knocking the wind out of me. “Where else did he touch you?”

Nathan pulls my hair harder, forcing me to look at him. His face is filled with hateful rage as he slaps me a few times. My head rings from the sudden impact, and I stammer to get him to stop.

“Mr. Mason’s a harmless old man and a father, too,” I stress, “I promise he didn’t touch me.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better, Lola?” he snarls, pulling me closer.

“It was a harmless hug. I swear,” I whisper, not wanting to make Nathan angrier.

He ignores me, smacking my head repeatedly and scolding me for the situation. His eyes look bloodshot and full of fury. I bow my head in surrender, numb to his treatment, sobbing while begging him to stop.

“Then don’t let it happen again,” Nathan growls, pulling my face closer and forcing a rough kiss on my mouth.

It makes me gag, but I let him, as it helps him to relax. He’s obviously in a foul mood, and I must deal with it. I wish it weren’t this way, as he gropes me aggressively.

“No one touches what’s mine! Do you hear me? You’re fucking mine,” his tongue assaults me again, making his point.

“Can we please go?” I ask when he stops.

Nathan finally releases my hair but squeezes my breast for good measure before starting the truck. I straightened myself in the seat, smoothing out my dress. I stare out the window as embarrassment settles in my stomach, even though no one is around.

The rest of the drive is silent as he taps the steering wheel to the music playing. I do my best to hide my misery, scared I will provoke his anger. Between yesterday and today, I’ve done that enough. I become more ashamed and disheartened as we get closer to home.

The truck pulls up to a drab brown beige, five-story apartment building, which only sours my mood. It’s a nice place with decent rent and a great landlord. But my tiny one-bedroom is barely big enough for me, let alone Nathan’s ego and temper tantrums.

He parks under the awning and gets out, slamming the door. Drunk or not, I follow behind him cautiously. It’s only logical for Nathan to stay the night and not drive back to his place.

Opening my apartment, Nathan pushes past me. He strips along the way to wash up in the bathroom. I sigh, locking the door behind us and putting up my purse and his clothes. In the kitchen, I place my food in the refrigerator, delaying the inevitable.

“Let’s get to sleep, babe,” Nathan says from the hall through clenched teeth.

“I need a shower first, and then I’ll go to bed,” I reply.

I’m slowly working off my sweater and shoes in the kitchen. I can feel Nathan’s eyes watching me intensely from the doorway. I know that look, and it won’t end in my favor.

“Dammit, Lola,” he hits the wall with his fist scolding me, “I said for you to come here!”

The impact startles me, and Nathan steps forward when I don’t move at once. He grabs my hurt arm, making more pain come, yanking me the rest of the way to him. I close the distance quickly with a bowed head.

Nathan shakes his head while the back of his hand connects with my face. I’m never fast enough, and he must remind me. I stare at the floor, holding back tears and ignoring the sting.

“You better fucking listen to me next time,” he warns, kissing my lips roughly and pinching my breast.

Nathan’s hands work the rest of my clothes off in a hurry. His grip is getting tighter, groping at my ass and breasts. He’s being too handsy and leaving red marks along the way. This would feel good if I was in the mood for it.

“Take it easy,” I whimper as his fingernails bite my flesh.

Nathan only gives me a look that says to shut up, and I do. He kisses my neck while working a hand into my underwear and penetrates me roughly with two fingers. The sensation is uncomfortable, causing me to clench as he stimulates my clit with his thumb.

“Nathan, please, not so rough,” I ask, shifting to adjust his hand.

“Fuck. I need this,” Nathan growls.

He isn’t listening, instead fingering me harder and drunkenly forcing us to the bedroom with his body, fumbling through his rough handling of me. There isn’t much I can do, feeling helpless when we hit the bed.

“I need what’s mine,” he groans, pressing his hardness against my thigh.

“Fine, Nathan. Please get a condom,” I ask while taking off my underwear to lie on the bed.

He’s already trying to enter me without much foreplay. The least he can do is cover it up. There’s no stopping him when it’s on. He goes to my core with his cock, stabbing me with a heavy thrust. I grit my teeth from the stinging pain as his cock sheathes inside me.

“Damn, this feels so good,” he says while fucking me unrhythmically.

Nathan’s performance is subpar when he drinks. At least with him sober, I occasionally get off, but me straight and him drunk, not so much. The best I can hope is that he starts it, and I finish solo.

Yet Nathan surprises me, slowing his thrusts, and it helps to relax me. His kisses are heavy with need, and he mumbles through each one, “You’re mine.”

I wish those words were enough to make me explode tonight like they used to. But they mean something different tonight. I upset Nathan. I should have known better.

After a few minutes of his drunken humping, Nathan grunts, releasing himself within me. He pulls out, leaving me on the brink of orgasm, and gets up to clean but pushes me back into the bed when I try to follow.

“I didn’t say you could go anywhere,” he demands, continuing his fondling of me.

This would be nice if it felt more like passion and less like claiming. Nathan eventually passes out. I wait a little longer before I’m confident I can leave the bed without waking him. Then tiptoe to the bathroom,  close the door but don’t latch it because that click is loud.

The steam fills the room while I strip. Taking off the wrist brace, my hand feels sore but not horrible. Nathan didn’t even notice; if he did, he said nothing. He was more concerned about something that didn’t happen.

More than a handful falls out while gently finger-combing my hair with conditioner. I scoff, throwing it away in disgust, and continue. I shrug that out of my head and scrub away the aches and pains of the day.

Once done letting the shower pelt me, I let the tub fill and soak after turning off the waterfall. I lay, allowing the heat to envelop me, and feel much better. Finally able to relax, there’s a need to finish what Nathan tried to start in bed.

A picture forms in my mind as I remember the last smutty book I read. I take my hand to my clit, slowly working it into a frenzy. Two fingers pinching to rub away the swollenness while two more pumps in and out of my tender entrance.

Making the water sway, I can feel myself tightening and close to release. I hold the image in my head, but suddenly I hear Nathan relieving himself, and it ruins my orgasm.

“What the fuck? Couldn’t you wait?” I growl, peering from behind the curtain.

Nathan runs a hand through his hair, unbothered by my statement. He turns to leave without apologizing. But stops at the door and finally speaks.

“Just flush that and get back to bed,” he yawns.

I scream profanities in my head. Deciding to get out, I dry off and flush Nathan’s mess. I take my time applying my lotion and get dressed. I had hoped the routine would help me calm down, but I was still upset. I sneer towards the bedroom, trying to shake off my frustrations.

From underneath the sink, I take out my journal to record this plunderous day as my final attempt to calm my nerves. It helps to soothe me as I knew it would.

Nathan got upset over a hug from Mr. Mason and let his possessive nature take over. He hit me in the parking lot at work for no reason. I guess that’s better than the sprained wrist he gave me yesterday.

Now at home, Nathan’s fast asleep after taking what was his for the night. I wish our sexual encounters weren’t like this. I prefer when he worships me and takes his time. I would gladly have more of that sex.

On the plus side, I got a new smutty book from Mia. I love that we have the same taste in romance and kink. I can’t wait to read it and spice up my love life.

I close my journal feeling better that I got all that out before hiding under the sink.

I take note of my tip money amount of almost a grand and hide it away again; I should be able to cover rent with a few more shifts at the diner.

Determined to get some sleep, I tiptoe back to the bedroom. I look for my extra blanket but can’t find it and crawl into bed, fighting for the covers. I accidentally wake Nathan and cower to his furrowed brow.

“I didn’t mean to cause a fuss. I’m just cold,” I say, and Nathan’s expression softens.

“Then come here, babe,” he pulls me close and nuzzles my neck while draping the blanket over me. “Good night,” he whispers in my ear.

Nathan softly kisses my nape and curls his arms around my body. This warm embrace reminds me why I love being in his arms. He feels good going slow, making me hum. Even after a bad day, he still tries. I wish there were more of these moments.