Delicious Trouble
You don’t go looking for trouble this delicious. Trouble walked into my restaurant one rainy October afternoon, desperate for a job. Her name was Jenna—late-twenties, with curves that made her impossible not to notice, especially for a man like me.
“Mr. Russo, I’ll take anything. I just need something steady.”
Her voice cracked, and I knew she was as good as mine if I played my cards right. “Come in tomorrow at four. Wear black,” I said.
From that moment, I watched her every move, waiting for the right moment to make mine.
She was divorced, not even 30, with two kids and a deadbeat ex. Desperate and vulnerable, she was everything I couldn’t ignore. That little uniform hugging her hips didn’t help. I undressed her with my eyes every time she passed me.
She noticed.
She’d catch me watching her bend over tables, pretending not to see. But her shy blush gave her away every time. She knew what I wanted.
One night, after closing, I found her sitting alone at the bar, staring at her phone.
“Everything okay?” I asked.
“My landlord’s threatening to evict us. I don’t know how I’m going to make rent,” she sighed.
“Jenna, you don’t have to do this alone. Let me help,” I said, my eyes on her chest, not her face.
Her wide, unsure eyes met mine. “Why would you do that?”
“Because sometimes people just need a break,” I replied.
That was the beginning of the end.
Little touches followed—a hand on her back, lingering glances, and the way her eyes met mine. Then one night, her car wouldn’t start after her shift. The rain had turned into snow, so I offered her a ride.
At her place, she invited me in for coffee. Her kids were asleep, and the apartment was quiet. Sitting on her couch, she talked about her ex, her kids, and her fears. I listened, but my eyes kept drifting to her chest and the way her lips trembled.
“David,” she said softly, pulling me from my thoughts. “Why are you so good to me?”
“You see how I look at you, and you let me because you're good mom who'd do anything to provide for her kids and we both why i drove you home tonight. ” I said.
“But…your wife,” she whispered, leaning in closer.
I didn’t answer. I just kissed her.
For a second, she froze. Then she kissed me back—hard and hungry, like she’d been waiting for this as much as I had.
It wasn’t sweet or gentle. It was raw and messy, her giving up every doubt. My hands roamed her body as I pulled her closer. Her breath hitched as I slid her shirt off.
“David,” she whispered against my lips, “we shouldn’t—”
“Do you want me to stop?” I asked, voice low and rough.
She shook her head. “No.”
Her shirt came off, and I kissed my way down her neck tasting her young nipples. Her skirt bunched up around her hips as I pushed her back onto the couch.
“David,” she moaned as her fingers fumbled at my belt. “I haven’t had sex in so long.”
“I’ll be gentle,” I promised, though I wasn’t sure I could keep that promise.
“No, don’t. It’s been too long. Fuck me like you look at me at work. Give it to me hard. Let me he your bitch. Make me cum!.” she moaned in my ear with no shame at all.
And I did.
That night, I claimed her in every way I’d imagined. Her cries, her gasps, and the way her nails dug into my back consumed me.
When it was over, we lay tangled on the couch.
“David,” she said, “what does this mean?”
“It means you don’t have to worry about rent anymore,” I said, grinning in the dark as I slid out of her c**t feeling my sperm leak from her desperate single momma snatch knowing I had my work place whore where i wanted her.
I don't even ask anymore. I just take her even at work she just lets me because her kids lack nothing now.
