By three in the afternoon, after all twenty-five pies had been sold, Dan put his hand down the back of Chance's pants when no one was looking and said, " You, you did good today with those pies. I like that. You know how to make-a the money good."
Chance froze and smiled. The old man's dirty hand felt cold and dry against his ass. "They like the vodka," he said. "They can't taste it, but they like the way it sounds." The old man hadn't washed in a few days, and his underarms smelled like burnt onions.
Dan squeezed a handful of ass and laughed. " You got such a sweet ass, just like those pies you make." He pulled his hand out of Chance's pants and headed to the back door so he could go upstairs for his nap.
"Is it okay if I go to The Island with Sarah tonight?" Chance asked. He was cleaning the slicing machine and he didn't look up.
Dan stopped walking and thought for a moment. Then he turned and said, "Just be back at twelve. No fucking around. I don't wanna hear anything about that other guy who was hanging around here."
Chance shook his head and looked Dan in the eye. "I'm only going with Sarah to walk around. I'm not interested in any other guy, or guys, and that's that." It was the truth, too. The only thing on his mind was being selected to be a finalist in the recipe competition.
The Island was crowded that night. They had to park way in the back and there was a line of about ten people at the entrance gate. It had been one of those warm, humid days when there's hardly a breeze and everything sounds louder than usual. The roller coaster sailed down the tracks clanking and squeaking with such intensity that Chance was tempted to cover his ears. The organ music from the carousel took on a frightening sound, as if they were walking through the middle of a horror film. Chance was acutely aware of the salty, sweet smells of popcorn and cotton candy. There were long lines to enter all the rides, but Sarah didn't push him to go on anything. When they passed by the Haunted House ride, she did ask, "Wanna try it again?" Chance gave her a dirty look and they continued walking toward the boat docks so they could sit at the bar on the pier and watch the people walk by.
Sarah wore a tight pair of jeans, black high heels, and a black tube top. Her tits looked hot and she got more than her fair share of stares from other guys. Her hair was puffed up and wild, unusually big even for her. Her makeup was heavy, too; there was such a bold, thick line around her lips, she could have passed as one of the clown's helpers, or a drag queen. Chance was wearing a loose white polo shirt, baggy tan shorts and black half boots. He looked fine, but he wasn't cruising or hoping to meet anyone. He just wanted to walk around, take in the sounds and smells of summer and get away from Dan's Market.
When they reached the bar at the pier, Sarah ordered a beer and he ordered a dirty martini. They weren't there longer than thirty minutes when a guy wearing a Mets cap sat down next to Sarah and started talking. He looked to be in his mid-twenties, but he was a bit out of shape so it was hard to tell. He wasn't obese, just a paunch and a bloated face from too much beer. But that didn't stop Sarah from turning her back to Chance and talking with the guy as if she'd known him all her life. She smiled and giggled, and she kept gently brushing her long red fingernails against the guy's shoulder. Chance was surprised she didn't actually curtsy for him. The music was loud and people were shouting so Chance couldn't hear anything they were saying. When the guy leaned forward to order another round of drinks for them—Chance declined, but he liked the gesture—Sarah turned and whispered, "I'm not letting go of this one. He's hot for me."
Chance smiled. He was glad she'd met someone. She needed the ego boost. Most of all, she needed dick. "Just be careful. You don't know this guy."
"Actually, I kind of do know him," she said, "It turns out that his father knows my
Chance froze and smiled. The old man's dirty hand felt cold and dry against his ass. "They like the vodka," he said. "They can't taste it, but they like the way it sounds." The old man hadn't washed in a few days, and his underarms smelled like burnt onions.
Dan squeezed a handful of ass and laughed. " You got such a sweet ass, just like those pies you make." He pulled his hand out of Chance's pants and headed to the back door so he could go upstairs for his nap.
"Is it okay if I go to The Island with Sarah tonight?" Chance asked. He was cleaning the slicing machine and he didn't look up.
Dan stopped walking and thought for a moment. Then he turned and said, "Just be back at twelve. No fucking around. I don't wanna hear anything about that other guy who was hanging around here."
Chance shook his head and looked Dan in the eye. "I'm only going with Sarah to walk around. I'm not interested in any other guy, or guys, and that's that." It was the truth, too. The only thing on his mind was being selected to be a finalist in the recipe competition.
The Island was crowded that night. They had to park way in the back and there was a line of about ten people at the entrance gate. It had been one of those warm, humid days when there's hardly a breeze and everything sounds louder than usual. The roller coaster sailed down the tracks clanking and squeaking with such intensity that Chance was tempted to cover his ears. The organ music from the carousel took on a frightening sound, as if they were walking through the middle of a horror film. Chance was acutely aware of the salty, sweet smells of popcorn and cotton candy. There were long lines to enter all the rides, but Sarah didn't push him to go on anything. When they passed by the Haunted House ride, she did ask, "Wanna try it again?" Chance gave her a dirty look and they continued walking toward the boat docks so they could sit at the bar on the pier and watch the people walk by.
Sarah wore a tight pair of jeans, black high heels, and a black tube top. Her tits looked hot and she got more than her fair share of stares from other guys. Her hair was puffed up and wild, unusually big even for her. Her makeup was heavy, too; there was such a bold, thick line around her lips, she could have passed as one of the clown's helpers, or a drag queen. Chance was wearing a loose white polo shirt, baggy tan shorts and black half boots. He looked fine, but he wasn't cruising or hoping to meet anyone. He just wanted to walk around, take in the sounds and smells of summer and get away from Dan's Market.
When they reached the bar at the pier, Sarah ordered a beer and he ordered a dirty martini. They weren't there longer than thirty minutes when a guy wearing a Mets cap sat down next to Sarah and started talking. He looked to be in his mid-twenties, but he was a bit out of shape so it was hard to tell. He wasn't obese, just a paunch and a bloated face from too much beer. But that didn't stop Sarah from turning her back to Chance and talking with the guy as if she'd known him all her life. She smiled and giggled, and she kept gently brushing her long red fingernails against the guy's shoulder. Chance was surprised she didn't actually curtsy for him. The music was loud and people were shouting so Chance couldn't hear anything they were saying. When the guy leaned forward to order another round of drinks for them—Chance declined, but he liked the gesture—Sarah turned and whispered, "I'm not letting go of this one. He's hot for me."
Chance smiled. He was glad she'd met someone. She needed the ego boost. Most of all, she needed dick. "Just be careful. You don't know this guy."
"Actually, I kind of do know him," she said, "It turns out that his father knows my
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