The New Cashier Had a Boyfriend and Still Came Looking for Me

On the first afternoon of May, a new girl started working the register, and my routine, which had been exactly the same for two years, shattered into pieces before I could do anything to stop it.

I was never very sociable, especially not at work. I served coffees in a neighborhood café for a wage that barely got me by, and my survival strategy for the shifts was not to lift my eyes from the counter any more than necessary. Everything changed the day the manager introduced her to me.

—This is Tomás, he’ll explain how the machine works to you —she said, and left before finishing the sentence.

—Mariela —she replied, and shook my hand with a firmness I wasn’t expecting.

She was tall, slender, with brown hair worn tied back in a tight braid, the kind serious girls who train hard wear. She had the body of someone who spends hours moving and, on top of that, enjoys having it show. That afternoon she’d arrived in black leggings that clung to her round ass and to the slit of her pussy like a second skin, and a loose T-shirt that let you make out firm tits, braless underneath. Even though she’d change into the uniform later, the image was already burned into some place in me that wasn’t going to let it go easily, and my dick was already starting to stir inside my pants without me being able to stop it.

—Have you been here long? —she asked me as I showed her where the beans were loaded.

—Too long —I said, and for the first time in a long while I heard myself answer with something like a smile.

***

The first few days were a silent war against myself. I forced myself to treat her like any coworker, but there was something about the way she moved behind the bar, how she laughed with the regulars, and how she looked for me with her eyes when something amused her, that completely disarmed me.

It took me almost a week to work up the nerve to talk to her about anything other than work. I did it slowly, careful not to seem desperate, because I knew desperation can be smelled from far away and it scares people off. We talked about music while we wiped down the tables at closing time, about the shows each of us watched, about how unbearable the owner was when he showed up to check the register.

—You’re quieter than you seem —she told me one night, drying her hands on her apron.

—Is that good or bad?

—I haven’t decided yet —she said, biting her lip—. I’ll tell you when I do.

The problem, the only problem, was that Mariela had a boyfriend. She mentioned him every now and then, as if it didn’t matter: a guy who rode a motorcycle, played drums in a minor band, and, from what she let slip, hadn’t touched her pussy in months. She spoke of him with a mix of habit and resignation that I learned to recognize, that way of talking about someone you still love but no longer want, no longer fuck, no longer think about when you touch yourself alone at night.

That wasn’t going to stop me.

***

I started noticing the signs before I dared to believe them. The way she came closer to me than necessary to reach a cup from the top shelf, pressing her tits against my arm as if by accident. How she let her ass brush my zipper when she passed behind me in the narrow hallway, and didn’t hurry to pull away. The smile she gave me when she thought nobody was looking, lasting a second longer than a polite smile ever does.

One rainy afternoon, the kind when the neighborhood empties out and the café goes dead, we found ourselves alone behind the counter. Outside, the rain battered the window hard. Inside, a slow song neither of us had chosen played softly.

—Nobody’s coming today —she said, leaning against the soda fridge.

—Even better —I answered—. That way I get you all to myself.

I said it without thinking, and the moment the words left my mouth I regretted it. But Mariela didn’t laugh it off, didn’t change the subject, didn’t make that face that says “don’t start.” She kept staring at me with a calmness that raised goosebumps on my skin and made my dick hard.

—Careful what you say —she murmured—. I might actually believe you.

—Maybe I want you to believe it.

The silence that followed wasn’t awkward. It was the kind that weighs on you, the kind that warns something is about to change forever. She dropped her gaze to my crotch, where the outline of the bulge could no longer be hidden, then lifted it to my mouth, and for an instant the sound of the rain was the only thing you could hear in the whole place.

—I have a boyfriend —she said, but she said it weakly, almost like a question she was asking herself.

—I know —I replied—. And you’re still here anyway, looking at me the way you are, with those hard tits under the uniform.

She looked down at her own chest, where her nipples had pushed against the fabric and were showing shamelessly, and said nothing. She also didn’t leave.

***

Nothing happened that afternoon. A soaked customer came in asking for a café au lait and the spell broke. But something had been said, something that couldn’t be tucked back into place. Over the next few days, the tension between us became its own language: looks that lasted too long, hands that found each other when passing things, lines with double meanings we dropped in front of customers knowing only we understood the real meaning.

The following Thursday we closed together. It was raining again, as if the weather were on my side. While I rolled down the shutter, she counted the register in silence, and when she finished she stood in the middle of the café with her coat in her hand, unable to decide whether to put it on.

—Want a ride? —I offered—. It’s pouring and you came by bike.

—Do you have a car?

—Borrowed. From a friend. It runs, though you have to be patient with it.

She nodded yes without words, and in that gesture I understood we both knew the trip wasn’t going to end at her front door.

***

The drive was long and quiet. The windshield wipers kept a monotonous rhythm and the streetlights dissolved on the wet glass. Mariela kept giving me directions in a low voice, and every time she stretched an arm out to point at a corner, her perfume reached me like a promise. At a red light I rested my hand on her thigh over the leggings, and she took it and moved it higher, until I could feel the wet heat of her pussy through the fabric. She was soaked, and it wasn’t from the rain.

—See what you do to me —she murmured, pressing my fingers against her slit—. I’ve been like this since morning.

—It’s that building —she finally said, after guiding my hand a little longer—. The one with the plants at the entrance.

I stopped in front of the gate. Left the engine running. Neither of us made the slightest move to say goodbye.

—Thanks for bringing me —she said, not looking at me.

—Anytime.

The silence stretched until it became unbearable. Then she slowly turned her face toward me, and in the dim light inside the car her eyes were shining with a decision I hadn’t seen before.

—I don’t want to go up yet —she confessed—. I want you to fuck me here.

I didn’t need anything more. I held the back of her neck with one hand and kissed her, and she kissed me back with a hunger she’d been holding in for weeks. It was a messy kiss, all teeth and wrestling tongues, hands that didn’t know where to begin. I felt her braid come undone between my fingers when I let her hair down and it fell over her shoulders. She reached for my zipper without breaking the kiss, yanked it open, and shoved her hand inside. When her fingers closed around my thick, hard cock, she moaned against my mouth as if she were the one being touched.

—Jesus, it’s huge —she whispered, squeezing it from top to bottom—. I want it inside me now.

—Inside, no —she said against my mouth, correcting herself—. Not in the apartment. It’s for both of us.

—Then here —I answered—. Get in the back.

***

She climbed into the back seat with an agility that made me laugh, and I followed awkwardly, cracking my head against the roof. The car was small and the two of us didn’t fit well, but that discomfort ended up becoming part of it all, the forced friction of bodies that have to squeeze together to fit.

I took off her jacket and then her shirt, and I paused for a second staring at her in the dim light of the streetlamp. She was wearing a black lace bra I hadn’t expected, too pretty for an ordinary workday, and I understood she had put it on that morning knowing what might happen. I pulled the cups down hard and her tits sprang free, white and firm, pink nipples pointing hard at my face.

—You chose it on purpose —I said, and shoved one into my mouth.

—Maybe —she panted, arching against my tongue—. Does that bother you?

—Quite the opposite.

I sucked one tit and then the other, barely biting her nipples, tugging on them with my teeth until she let out a moan. She sank her fingers into my hair and pressed my face against her chest, breathing hard. I lowered my mouth over her taut stomach, over her navel, over the edge of her leggings, and when I reached the hip bone I bit her skin and she jerked her waist.

—Don’t make noise —I whispered in her ear—. People go in and out of the building.

—Then make me shut up —she challenged me.

I hooked my thumbs in the waistband of her leggings and pulled them down to her knees along with her panties. The smell of wet pussy hit the car all at once. She was neat, just a strip of brown hair above, and the lips were shining from how soaked they were. I opened her with two fingers and ran my whole tongue over her, from bottom to top, and she covered her mouth with both hands so she wouldn’t scream.

—Holy fuck, Tomás —she muttered through her fingers—. Keep going, keep going like that.

I ate her pussy slowly, tasting her, sucking her clit and pushing my tongue inside her while she rocked her hips against my face as if she couldn’t stop. I buried two fingers in her and found that rough little place deep inside that made her tremble all over. I started pumping her with my fingers while I sucked her clit hard, and in less than a minute I felt her tighten up completely, clenching my fingers like a fist, and she came against my mouth, stifling a cry against the seatback.

—Come here, come here —she begged when it was over, tugging on my hair—. I want it.

***

I climbed over the seats as best I could and she finished taking off my pants and underwear. My cock sprang out, rock hard, leaking pre-cum, and she grabbed it with both hands and stroked it slowly, looking me in the eyes.

—I’m going to suck it a little first —she said, and without waiting for an answer she bent down and took all of it into her mouth.

I almost came right there. Her hot tongue moving up and down my cock, her hand squeezing the base, her eyes locked on mine while she sucked me on purpose loud. She pulled it all the way out to lick the tip and then swallowed it again to the throat, with a skill that wasn’t from the first time. I had to grab her head and stop her.

—Enough, baby, you’re going to make me come and I want to fuck you first.

She laughed around my cock, gave it one last lick, and lay on her side on the seat, because there was no other way we could fit, one leg bent up over the backrest and the other braced on the floor. She spread her pussy open with two fingers and looked at me.

—Put it all in me, don’t go easy on me.

I got myself behind her and ran the tip along her slit, soaking it. When I pushed in, it went all the way to the hilt in one shot, and we both moaned at the same time. She was incredibly tight, hot, and I felt the walls of her cunt throbbing around me. I stayed still for a second, forehead to forehead, breathing the same stale warm air in the car, until she started rocking her ass against me in a slow rhythm that gradually picked up.

—Harder —she begged me, biting her lip—. Fuck me harder, come on.

I grabbed her hips and started really pounding her, shoving her against the backrest with every thrust. The whole car rocked, the windows fogged over with our breath, and the wet sound of my cock sliding in and out of her soaked cunt filled the cabin above the noise of the engine. Every so often a car passed and bathed us in light for an instant before plunging us back into darkness, and in each of those flashes I saw her face twisted with pleasure, mouth open, eyes half-closed.

She covered my mouth with her hand so nothing would escape me, and I bit her fingers, and between us we built a language made of stifled gasps and names said only halfway. I grabbed her loose hair and pulled her head back, and bit her neck while I kept pounding into her all the way to the balls.

—Like that, like that, don’t stop —she begged, voice breaking—. Don’t you dare stop.

I pulled out for a moment and flipped her face-down, with her knees on the seat and her ass raised toward me. I buried my cock in her with one shove and she bit the upholstery to keep from screaming. I grabbed one tit with one hand and used the other to find her clit while I fucked her from behind, and in just a few minutes I felt her start trembling again.

—You’re coming for me —I told her in her ear, never stopping—. Come for me, come on, come again.

—Not inside —she panted—. Not inside, I don’t take anything.

—Relax, tell me when.

I held her against me until I felt her tense up completely, bite her lip to keep from crying out, and then go slack against the seat, trembling, her pussy contracting around my cock like a fist. I held out a few seconds more, but when I felt my own orgasm rising I pulled out in time, turned her face, and came in a thick stream over her tits and neck, her name stuck in my throat. She ran two fingers over her chest, brought them to her mouth, and watched me while she sucked them clean.

—Delicious —she murmured, and used her hand to get the last drops off me.

***

After that we stayed there a long while, piled together and breathless, while the engine kept purring and the rain eased outside. She stroked my hair with the tips of her fingers, lost in some thought she didn’t share, with my semen still drying between her tits.

—This shouldn’t have happened —she said at last, but she was smiling when she said it.

—But it did —I answered—. And we both knew it was going to happen since that rainy afternoon.

She sat up slowly, looking for her clothes in the dark. She wiped her chest with her shirt before readjusting her bra, and while she pulled her leggings up over her bare ass she looked at me over her shoulder with an expression that promised a lot and clarified nothing.

—Tomorrow we work together again —she said.

—I know.

—It’s going to be weird.

—It’s going to be unbearable —I answered—. And I can’t wait to fuck you again.

She laughed, gave me one last short kiss that tasted like semen, and ran out of the car through the rain to the gate. Before going in she turned around and waved at me, still with wet hair stuck to her face, and I stayed there with the window fogged up, my cock still out of my pants, and my heart pounding hard, knowing the boring routine of my days had just turned into something else.

The next day, when I walked into the café, she was already behind the register in her uniform, her braid done up again, as if nothing had happened. But when she saw me she gave me that smile that always lasted a second too long, bit her lip, and looked down at my zipper, and I knew it was only just beginning.