Radioshack
The radio shack is not where I imagined my life would take me. It's ironic that I sell connection while feeling completely isolated. It's nine in the morning when Jerry strolls in. Summer in a desert town calls for a Budweiser tank top. My cheeks peak out of the denim, a desperate attempt at making my husband jealous enough to spend a night at home. It would be too much to also wish for him to spend a sober evening at home so I settle for a dream of a forty and hamburger helper.
Dave might not have noticed my plea for attention when I left this morning but Jerry never misses. He pinches the smile of my ass, “nice shorts.” My desire outweighs my gut feeling. The vows I said in Vegas are a distant memory. I turn around to face him. There isn’t much space behind the counter but enough that it was a choice for our navals to touch. He didn’t step back. I told myself today I wouldn’t.
His hands grip my skin, this time sliding under my shorts pulling me closer. “I know you feel that.” Through his camo bermuda shorts his dick pulsates. I realise Jerry has come to expect this. I’m not attracted to Jerry. He’s decades older. His skin feels like sandpaper. He permanently smells like cigarettes and gasoline. Despite these truths I feel heat deep inside me. Through my shorts he slips a finger up my clit. I catch my breath. “You like that”
Before I know it I am bent over a cardboard box in the supply closet and Jerry is fucking me from behind. He comes on the small of my back using my butterfly tattoo as a target. He pulls his shorts up from his ankles and slaps my ass, "well better get to it, the shop isn’t going to open itself.” As I am wiping myself off I hear the shop door then the rattling of his truck pulling away. This used to be fun.
The day was slow. I sold a few modems and a razor flip phone. I stop by the Dollar Store on the way home to pick up some toilet paper and a Laffy Taffy. The kids are home when I get there, my sons, his daughter. I always wanted a daughter but no matter how hard I try I can feel how intimately she hates me. It wasn’t always this way. We were pals before she came to live with us. I think she blames me for her mom being gone, for her dad not wanting to be around. I can tell she is lonely but better she learns now, this world is a lonely place.