Bad Dietary Habits
In the hectic world of the modern professional, who has time to cook? Nowadays twenty four hours is not enough time to get everything done. These thoughts swirled through the conscience of Wendy as she looked down at her cup of coffee as the sugar dissolved in it. The coffee house had a patio near the sidewalk. Everyday Wendy would sit down on one of the wire mesh tables and sip her coffee while looking through the huge stack of paperwork she dragged with her everywhere she went.
She was the best office manager in the company she worked for. Ordinarily she would get through quite a bit of reading at the coffee shop patio. Today Wendy was distracted. Her thoughts wondered. She looked down at the crumpled packaging of her pastry and the napkins that were stained with her lipstick. All of her meals came out of a bag or a takeout box.
The stove and oven in her apartment gathered dust. Her refrigerator contained takeout leftovers and some beverages. She frequented restaurants and cafes so much that they knew her name. In her defense, Wendy had tried in the past to purchase groceries and cook meals for herself. It was short lasted though, as the majority of groceries spoiled in the refrigerator because she was out of town or too tired to make anything.
Wendy was jolted out her thoughts as she glanced down at her watch. She had better get going or else she would be late for work. The files were neatly placed in her briefcase. With the cup of coffee in one hand and her briefcase in the other, Wendy walked down the crowded sidewalks of the business district to her office building. She entered the building. In the hallway leading to her office there were vending machines. Wendy always kept quarters in her purse. She stopped in front of one of the snack machines and bought a candy bar as her coworkers passed by and said good morning to her.
The analog clock with the huge face moved its hands to eight o’clock and another workday began. Wendy sat down at her desk for another day of work. She glanced up at the clock. The hands read 12:00. She sat there wondering where the time had gone. Her wastebasket had a few more candy bar wrappers in it. It was lunchtime. Wendy grabbed a manila folder from her desk. Takeout menus from practically every restaurant spilled out onto her desk. She neatly rearranged them. Today she decided to order Japanese.
Wendy picked up a piece of paper and wrote down her order using the Kanji based characters that the Japanese language is based on. She inserted the paper into the fax machine and sent her order out. The proprietors of the restaurant let their teenage daughter handle all the communications with the customers. She was born in the United States and spoke English fluently. Her parents only spoke enough English to pass their citizenship test. In one corner of the busy kitchen a fax machine came alive.
The owner of the restaurant glanced at the machine and saw the Kanji characters being printed out. The characters were neatly drawn and the dialect matched the province where he grew up in. He picked the order up out of the fax machine and placed in front of the long line of tickets. He prepared her meal and added a few extras for free. The plastic bag was handed off to his delivery boy. He gave his instructions in Japanese peppered with profanity that this delivery was to be made first.
The delivery boy weaved his way on his bicycle through the congested city streets. Five minutes later he was standing in front of a nice looking woman in an office building. Wendy smiled and tipped the delivery boy. Her office workers always wondered how she managed to get such fast service from such a popular restaurant. Wendy unwrapped her lunch. She loved how the Japanese put such emphasis on presentation of a meal. She unwrapped the neatly packaged lunch. It smelled heavenly. The stir fried pork practically melted in her mouth. The wild rice and spices rolled inside dried seaweed tasted wonderful. For dessert, a sweet rice cake that was a favorite of lunch patrons. When she ate the last morsel of food, the Styrofoam containers were tossed onto the candy wrappers and coffee cups in her trash. The hands on the analog clock spun around the clock face.
Night fall had set in on the business district. A cold wind had kicked up followed by a light spray of rain. Wendy stared out of her office window onto the streetlights and crowded streets below. With bleary eyes, she closed the last of her file folders and turned off the lights in her office. Wendy normally walked to work because she lived so close to the business district. The company had provided her with a reserved parking space in the garage adjacent to the building. She had left her car there a few days before after returning from a business trip.
Instead of running out into the rain to hail a taxi, she decided to drive home. Carrying her oversized briefcase and wearing an overcoat she deactivated the anti theft alarm on her car and opened the door. Wendy tossed her briefcase onto the passenger seat and tried to get in. Her overcoat was caught on something. She tugged on it and it finally came loose. Tonight she would visit her favorite local burger stand to get her dinner.
Doug had worked at the same restaurant for about three years. He started when he was sixteen. Doug was one of the rare workers who was dependable and had a positive attitude. The manager was going to miss him when he graduated from high school and went on to college. Doug had always preferred mature, sophisticated women as opposed to the teenage girls in his age group. That rainy night as he sat near the drive thru window staring out at the rainfall, he saw a familiar car and familiar face pull into the drive thru window.
He made it a point to be on a first name basis with Wendy. The attraction was overwhelming for Doug. Ever since he first laid eyes on her, he had sexual fantasies about her. The car stopped in front of the loudspeaker and Doug took her order. Wendy moved her car forward and stopped in front of the pickup window.
Doug leaned out and took her money. Normally Doug would engage Wendy in a friendly conversation while the cook prepared her meal. Tonight he took one look at her and froze. His face turned bright red and he stuttered when he talked. The conversation was short and Doug handed her the bag containing her meal.
As Wendy left the drive thru she adjusted her rear view mirror to see if she had anything embarrassing on her face. A quick inspection revealed nothing. She arrived home and parked her car in the garage underneath her apartment complex. When she got out of her car, a cold draft made her shiver. Wendy looked down and to her horror her skirt had been lifted up when she was trying to free her overcoat. Her pantyhose were exposed all the way up to the crotch.
Wendy had been blessed with a thick patch of dark pubic hair in between her legs. It seemed more like a curse to her. She constantly had to shave and wax in order to keep her bush neatly trimmed. Lately, she hadn’t had the time and her pubic hair had grown into a thick triangle. From the elevated drive-thru window Doug had a perfect view of her pussy. Wendy felt so embarrassed and humiliated.
Her first instinct was to never go to that restaurant again. As she sat at her table eating her dinner another feeling rose up from within her. She got up from the table and dragged a chair over to a full length mirror in the hallway. Wendy sat in front of the mirror and pulled her skirt up to the height it as at when she drove through the drive-thru window. Doug had an excellent view from his perch. She gently touched her pantyhose. She replayed the scene over and over again in her mind. Wendy looked down at her pussy. She stood up in front of the mirror and examined the wet spot that had appeared on the front of her pantyhose.
A portion of her mind told her to let the incident go. Wendy undressed, took a shower and went to bed. She spent a night of tossing and turning. She didn’t want to actually have sex with Doug. What she craved was his lustful stare at her body. A plan emerged in her mind. The following morning Wendy repeated her workday. All day long her mind was focused on Doug and the drive-thru. She pulled her car in front of the loudspeaker. Doug’s voice was music to her ears. She pulled up to the window. Wendy handed Doug her money and a note.
Curious, Doug opened the note. In neat handwriting it read, “Did you like what you saw last night? Do you want to see my pussy again?” Doug’s pulse quickened. He began to sweat. He quickly turned around to see if anyone was watching him. The coast was clear. His knees felt like jelly as he walked toward the window. He handed Wendy her change and nodded. With seductive slowness, Wendy pulled the hem of her skirt up. There clad in silk pantyhose was Wendy’s magnificent thick bush. She studied Doug’s face. He was not looking into her brown eyes. His gaze was fixed on her crotch. Wendy felt flush with arousal.
She couldn’t help herself. Wendy slid her hand down in between her legs and touched herself. Doug was hypnotized. A loud beeping noise startled both Doug and Wendy. Her order had come up and was sitting under a heat lamp. Doug handed her the bag and Wendy smiled and blew him a kiss. With one hand down her pantyhose and the other on the steering wheel, Wendy drove him. Thank god for automatic transmission. Just as her car reached the parking garage, she climaxed and almost hit a retaining wall.
A torrent of juices saturated her pantyhose and spilled onto her leather seats. She had never cum so hard before. The next evening Wendy needed Doug even more. She pulled in front of the loudspeaker and placed her order. She moved forward to the window. Doug smiled and greeted her. When she handed him the money, he slipped her a note with something folded inside. To the cars behind her, nothing out of the ordinary was happening.
She opened the note and read it, “Wendy Special: One burger and fries for your bra and panties. Cut them off now with the scissors.” A pair of scissors fell out of the note. Wendy paused for a moment. There were cars behind her and she had to make up her mind quickly. With Doug watching, she lifted her skirt and slid the blade underneath the elastic band to her panties. Wendy cut downwards toward on the right side of her panties and then the left side of her panties. The fabric fell away from her French cut panties. Her pubic hair that had been peaking out from the sides of the elastic band around her legs now was fully exposed. With one good tug, her panties were pulled free from under her pussy.
The cook was almost done with her meal. Wendy had to act quickly. She cut open her blouse so that the car in back of her would not see her raise her arms up. The cold damp night air made her large nipples stand off of her petite chest. Her bra matched her panties. She placed the blade underneath the straps and cut them free. Wendy pulled them off and was fully exposed to Doug. He stood there and stared. The window prevented Wendy from seeing if he had an erection. In her mind, there was a huge bulge poking out from his uniform.
Wendy was flush with excitement. Her respiration skyrocketed as she watched his eyes move across her breasts and then back down in between her legs. The juices flowed onto her leather seat as she sat there exposing herself to a teenage boy. A loud beeping noise announced that her meal was ready.
Wendy took the bag into her car. She placed her torn panties and bra into the bag and handed back to Doug. He took them out and placed an envelope into it. Wendy drove off wet and excited. She rushed home and into her apartment. She took a chair from the dining room table and sat down in front of the mirror. Wendy opened her overcoat to reveal her naked body underneath. With trembling hands she opened the envelope. It read, “Wendy Specials are good everyday. Show me your pussy and tits and you will get a free burger and fries…Doug” Her money spilled out of the envelope and scattered on the hardwood floor. With two fingers inside of her pussy she finished the job she started at the drive-thru. As Wendy lay back in the chair panting, she stared at her reflection in the mirror. Her thick mound of pubic hair was soaking wet. She felt satisfied and drifted off to sleep.