Learning the Ropes


Russell Hatler

Iris yawned groggily and glanced at the alarm clock sitting on the shabby nightstand beside the rain-streaked window of the third floor one-bedroom apartment. It was 5:45. In the living room a two-year-old girl’s feet pitter pattered across the floor scattered with toys. She was whimpering, begging for Mommy’s attention. To no avail. Mommy needs more sleep. Suddenly the alarm clock buzzed. Loud. Iris opened her eyes, glanced at the alarm…. “OH SHIT!!!” …. late again. She tossed back the bedclothes and surrendered to the demands of the day.

The little girl’s name was Lorelei but the family called her, “Sissy.” Sissy jumped on the bed screaming, “MOMMY, MOMMY, MOMMY, BAAAA BAAA.” Iris jumped out of the bed. Grabbed a toothbrush and a diaper at the same time. Scurried to get herself and Sissy ready along with Sissy’s older sister, Arya. Sissy and Arya were total opposites. The whirlwind and the placid pond. Arya sat patiently on the edge of her cot in the toy-strewn living room, waiting for Iris to choose her outfit for the day.

Dressed at last the three girls stumbled down the wooden stairs and piled into a car… of course not their own. Iris thought to herself, “God, please I need this job. I can hardly pay the bills as it is since Erik the son-of-a-Bitch moved out and moved on.” She dropped the girls at the babysitter’s house. Kisses were handed out.

“I love you, Sissy… I love you, Arya.”

The car rattled away, leaving the two little princesses behind.

Iris walked into an old diner. Cooking odors tickled her nose. The clatter of cups, silverware, and muffled conversations filled her brain. Fantasies of a beautiful white sandy beach flashed through her memory.
Visions of Erik and Iris before the kids came along. Then reality scratched Iris back to the present to let her know it’s here to stay.

An eternity of boredom passed slowly. Iris mentally ticked off the hours, minutes and seconds until she could clock out again.

All of a sudden, her subconscious calculations and flickering daydreams were interrupted. A handsome older man wearing a tailored, three-piece suit walked into the diner. It was as if a breath of fresh air rolled in with him. Iris was mesmerized. She found it curiously hard to take her eyes off the dapper gentleman. He approached her manager and engaged him in hushed conversation. Iris continued with some side work folding silverware.

Her manager snapped his fingers at Iris from the other side of the dining room. She came to him like an obedient dog. He told Iris the gentleman would like to speak with her about a business arrangement in the privacy of the office behind the kitchen. As he told Iris this, she saw a wad of fresh, crisp bills peeking from his trousers pocket.

“It’s none of my business,” she thought as she nodded and retreated obediently through the kitchen to the office.

Iris was nervous as the good-looking man in the suit entered the room. The masculine scent of his cologne was intoxicating. For Iris, his self-confident smile was like the hit a junkie constantly chases. He cut straight to the chase. He’d noticed her when he got here.

“He’s used to getting what he wants,” thought Iris. “He wants me.”

He walked up to Iris and gently rubbed his thumb across her lips. He slipped his thumb inside her mouth pressing against her teeth. With his other hand brushing softly across her breast he turned Iris aggressively away, grabbed her hair and urgently pushed it aside as his warm lips and wet tongue caressed her neck. Iris found the skirt of her waitress uniform magically gliding above her hips, her panties tugged down to her ankles.

“This guy must be a magician,” thought Iris. “I’m powerless to resist this brash invasion of privacy. More to the point I’m eager to have it continue. Oh My God. I want him inside me so bad.”

The gentleman slipped his thumb from her mouth. He needed two hands now. He wrapped his fingers around the crisply ironed edges of the blouse of her waitress uniform and tugged the top apart. Buttons flew across the surface of the desk. They made a hollow clicking sound as they scattered across the linoleum floor. Her plastic name tag dangled from the torn cotton bodice. “Iris,” it said.

But now he had her where he wanted her. The red and black bra Erik bought for Iris at the adult lingerie store down at the mall was visible through gaps in the torn fabric. He tore at the ‘C’ cups as if angered by the impertinence of women’s undergarments. Iris eased herself up and carefully unhooked the bra from the front. Her perky breasts tumbled out, the tiny silver barbells through each pierced nipple dancing in the light. His soft hands grasped her breasts firmly, pinching the pierced nipples gently at first and then hard, urgently pulling at them, forcing her face onto the hard surface of the oak desk. Her breasts hung free for a moment while he straightened up and unzipped his pants.

Iris reached between her legs and took his thick rigid cock in her right hand. She guided it into her wet pussy. Lubrication had never been a problem for Iris, but she winced as he thrust his enormous cock deep inside. The thought of inflicting pain evidently excited him, and he thrust ever deeper, rocking Iris against the desk, gaining a rhythm. Iris squeezed her eyes shut, focusing on the engorged cock that filled her drenched pussy. The fingers of her right-hand crept to her neglected clit and touched it ever so gently. She was on familiar ground now. His thrusting and grunting became more labored now and suddenly he ejaculated. The warmth of his spunk filled her already overheated cunt and with a convulsive shudder Iris came too.

The dapper gentleman straightened up and zipped his pants. Iris heard the office door open, click shut. Now she opened her eyes. On the desk beside her face Iris saw two crisp new hundred-dollar bills. For a moment she didn’t realize they were hers. Her waitress uniform was in tatters.

Iris pulled her panties back up, stuffed the hundred-dollar bills inside, refastened her bra. In the corner of the office Iris noticed a closet. She opened the door. Inside were freshly laundered waitress uniforms. Iris selected her size, discarded the remnants of her own shredded garment, and slipped into the new one. She pinned the name tag on. Iris.

Iris walked unsteadily out of the office, visited the Ladies Room to freshen up. When she came out her manager beckoned. Iris went shyly over. He favored her with a warm smile.

“You’re one of my special girls now, Iris,” he whispered.

“I hope so, sir.” Iris whispered back, a moist trickle of semen seeping down the inside of her left thigh. “I do hope so.”