The following is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to any person living or dead is coincidental. Except Betty. Betty is very much real.
The pasta shift at the Dhall was by far Amy’s least favorite. It consisted of laboriously combining an endless variety of pasta, meat, vegetables and sauces for an incessant queue of upper-middle class, entitled liberal arts college students. While it was necessary for Amy to leave her home in Chicago’s South Side, she never felt as though she fit in with the MacBook toting, Calvin Klein wearing crowd of individuals who were supposedly her peers. And yet every Tuesday and Thursday night, she cooked them pan after pan of pasta, hopelessly trying to pay for the education that was supposed to save her from the gang culture that claimed her brother’s life two years ago.
“Can I have more broccoli? And can you use diaya cheese?” The snarky request snapped Amy back into reality. A short, dreadlocked female, half looking up from her iPhone waited for a reply, her large earlobe gauges bouncing as she moved her head. “Yes, of course”, replied Amy, adding the ingredients and stirring with her rubber spatula. She placed dish in front of the girl, who left without so much as a “Thank You”, as she had already begun to strike up a conversation with a friend as they sauntered to their table. Amy glanced at the large gold watch on her wrist. It was a replica of a Rolex Yachtmaster II, a timepiece that normally fetches a price of well over thirty thousand dollars, but sold on the streets by her brother and his gang of thugs for a fraction of the price. The watch read seven thirty. “Excellent” thought Amy “only a few more minutes, then off to Kistle to attempt to do a weeks worth of computer science homework in a matter of a few hours. She had done it before, and she could do it again.
As the last few students approached the counter, the drudgery of the three hour shift began to take it’s toll. Amy’s arms felt incredibly for holding the skillet and spatula for such a prolonged stretch of time. The heat from the range was causing her to sweat profusely underneath her apron, white chef’s coat and heavy black “Grinnell Dining” t-shirt. The only thing Amy wanted in the world was to collapse into a pile of soft pillows and never get up. The last customer approached the counter. Something about him felt vaguely familiar to Amy, causing her to wonder if they had met before at a shambly function on High Street. As Amy prepared his simple order of bowtie pasta with pesto sauce, she was hasty to send him on his way, as she still had to put away all of the ingredients and clean the countertops. He thanked Amy, and departed to one of the small tables, where he opened his book, and began to consume knowledge of economics along with his dinner.
At long last, Amy had Saran-wrapped all of the food tubs, and placed them in one of the large walk-in refrigerators in the back room. The refreshing cold felt amazing after hours of working in the heat. Sitting atop a box of bell peppers, she allowed herself a furtive glance at her smartphone, an activity strictly taboo for on-the-clock dining hall workers. No new notifications. It did not come as a surprise to Amy. For the past few weeks, she had been largely devoid of a social life, her challenging courses assigning more work than her impoverished, inner city public high school had prepared her for. She left the refrigerator,, and was about to swipe her P-card to punch out, when she was approached by a supervisor. The kind old lady asked “Amy, do you think you could go and shoo out the stragglers? We’re a little short-staffed today.” For any of the other supervisors, Amy would have made the valid excuse of “too much homework, gotta run”, but for Betty, she made the exception. It was hard to say no to such a misunderstood person. Betty had the most thankless job in the hierarchy that is Grinnell Dining Services. She stood guard to make sure that none of the students took food out of the dining hall for later consumption. It was not in her demeanor to be the “bad guy”, but her position required it.
Amy acquiesced, and went thought the building, being as kind as she could to tables of students engrossed in deep conversation whom she had to so obtrusively kick out. In the rear corner of the main dining area, she was surprised to see the boy from her earlier pasta shift. He must have been sitting there alone for at least an hour, his pasta long finished, and his nose buried deep in a huge textbook, with large noise-cancelling headphones firmly in place. Amy gently tapped him on the shoulder, and he jumped in the air, having been awakened from his alternate reality of music and academia. “Sorry” said Amy “but I’m afraid the dining hall is closed. I’m going to have to kick you out.” “Oh, no problem” the boy replied, gathering his things. “Say, do I know you from somewhere? You seem familiar. My name is Ashton.“ “Well, it is a small school. Odds are we’ve met before.” Said Amy with a slight chuckle. She was not acquainted with any Ashton, but she still hung onto her notion that the boy seemed like no stranger, although she refrained from saying anything for fear of sounding like a stalker. The two left the table, and walked towards the large double doors. “This week is crazy for me” Ashton remarked. “I have an econ test tomorrow, and a history paper due on Friday. Welcome to Grin-hell, am I right?” Amy nodded in agreement. “I have a huge CS problem set due at midnight, and a math test on Thursday.” Amy went to the back room to remove her sweaty uniform, and much to her surprise, Ashton followed her. “I’ve always wanted to see what it looks like back here. I hope you don’t mind. Besides, it seems like everyone else has gone home.” Ashton leaned against the large silver dish machine, and without meaning to, pressed a button with his backside. The dish machine spurred to life, and the conveyor belt started to move. The belt snagged on Ashton’s shirt, flinging his lanky body onto the machine. Amy heard the noise, and rushed over to turn off the machine, leaning over top of Ashton in the process. Immediately , Ashton grabbed Amy’s head and kissed her on the lips. “Holy shit! I’m so sorry! It’s just that this was the craziest adrenaline rush I’ve had in a long time. It just felt so instinctual. Also I must say that you’re one of the prettiest girls I’ve ever met here.” “Amy, clearly blushing, replied “Oh, that’s not a problem at all. Say, I’ve been searching for sort of a “rush” as well. Besides, I can always use a twenty-four hour extension on my CS problems.” She lifted off the black t-shirt, revealing her light blue bra, beautifully accented by her turquoise belly button ring. Ashton was dumbstruck. “Wow, this is all going super fast. I’m ready to do anything you’re willing to do. “ Amy simply giggled, and removed his shirt, revealing his svelte chest. Ashton removed his belt and threw it over his shoulder, where it landed with a splash in the pots and pans sink. Amy removed her bra, tossing it in the sink along with Ashton’s belt. She pressed her naked chest against Ashton’s and her tongue found it’s place in his mouth. They held each other and moved past the rest of the industrial kitchen appliances, and out the metal door. Amy laid Ashton out on top of the gluten-free food bar, and removed his jet black jeans. She found his cock, unsurprisingly erect, got down on her knees, and began fellatio. Ashton closed his eyes and moaned in pleasure, grasping the edges of the counter as he felt Amy’s tongue move over every inch of his manhood. When he opened his eyes, he found Amy with her pants and underwear completely removed, and placed haphazardly on top of the gluten free cereal dispensers. Ashton took Amy by the hand and they ran to the milk dispenser. Ashton opened the gleaming box, and removed a five gallon bag of two percent milk. He pressed Amy against the soda machine, and tore open the giant bag above their heads. Huge quantities of the white liquid came rushing out, all over their caressing bodies as they kissed. They collapsed to the floor, covered in milk. It was then, in a moment of intense passion, that Ashton shoved his throbbing cock into Amy’s open pussy. Their very souls felt connected as they rolled all over the faux wood floor, knocking over the cart of cups and mugs. Suddenly, a rush came over Ashton as he shot his cum into Amy. He collapsed into her arms, and they kissed. After a few minutes spent lying naked in each other’s company, they picked themselves up to go and track down their clothes. When they reached the pots and pans sink in the back room, Ashton reached in to retrieve his belt. Amy noticed something very intriguing on his wrist. A fake Piaget Altiplano watch, instantly recognizable by the metered ticking of the second hand. “That was exactly what I needed. Ever since I transferred here two years ago, I felt like my life has been missing something, and tonight you truly completed me.” Said Ashton as he finished buttoning his shirt. “As they exited the dining hall, Ashton grabbed a dull brown Grinnell College napkin, wrote a phone number on it, and slipped it into Amy’s cleavage. “Call me any time you’re feeling like a quick pick-me-up” Ashton said as he set off towards east campus. Amy smiled and blew him a kiss. She knew she would see him again.