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I need to stop daydreaming and find her.
The thought that she might be just around the corner, tucked away in some unfamiliar place creates a restless heat in me. Right this minute, she can be somewhere in this very town. I wonder what she's thinking about, remembering how after her return from Italy, she would always blush whenever Vinny or I dropped a flirtatious comment or two. That sweet innocence could drive me wild.
Natalia.
Her name alone ignites memories that fuels a fire in me. It all seems like another lifetime ago yet is vividly fresh, imprinted in my thoughts like a hot branding iron.
Another image comes to the surface of my memory. It’s of one sunny afternoon on a boat ride near the beach. Natalia, glowing in a skimpy two-piece that showed off every curve of her body. Her skin glistening under the sunlight while her laughter echoed over the water. And at the shore, she playfully splashed water at me before diving into the crystal-clear sea. I was working, so I was all business, but that didn't stop me from admiring her as she emerged from the water - slick hair cascading down her back, clinging to her hourglass figure. Seeing her soaked white bikini turn translucent against her tanned body made my mind go wild. And right now, every inch of my body is aching to feel her near me again, her fingers tracing patterns over my skin.
Natalia's image is carved into my brain. The playfulness in her eyes as she glances at me, her dewy skin glistening under the sun, creates a stirring that I can't ignore.
I feel the strings of her bikini top barely containing her ample cleavage. My fingers itch to touch the softness of her breasts pressing against my bare chest, creating an enthralling symphony of sensations - anticipation and desire mixed together.
My gaze drops lower, towards her navel showing off a silver belly ring that twinkles in the sunlight. I can't help but let my eyes trace down the soft curves of her stomach and her hips, leading me to where a skimpy bikini bottom rests.
I’m hard as slate picturing her in that wet bikini that shows off more of her than it hides, and the thought of having Natalia writhing beneath me flashes across my mind abruptly, causing a sharp inhale. I imagine her curvy legs wrapped around my waist while I thrust deep inside her warmth - taking her hard as she moans out my name sharply - causes my cock to throb and ache for release.
My mouth falls dry as I wipe away sweat from my brow, remembering how she looked coming out of the water like a goddess rising from the sea - beautiful and shameless. I strip down to my boxers, my stiff cock pressing hard at the seams, needing Natalia under me.
Her laughter echoes in my head - innocent yet suggestive, like a whisper in my ear. My twitching cock needs her right now. I want her sweet warmth around me again. Every part of me wants to bury inside of her until we're both spent.
I fucking crave her. That laugh, the way she throws her head back when she comes for me.
But for now, I have to bide my time and focus on the search.
17
Natalia
Standingbehind the dessert waffle booth at the local midway festival was not part of my carefully constructed plan to remain unnoticed.
The sweet, buttery aroma of freshly made waffles, cotton candy, and savory corn dogs waft through the air, a comforting scent that usually brings me joy. But today, it's a bittersweet reminder of the risk I'm taking by being out in the open like this.
Dressed in the diner's uniform - a crisp white shirt and black pants with a cleaner white apron tied around my waist - I stand behind the counter. My dark hair is pulled back into a neat bun, with a few rebellious strands framing my face. The festival buzzes around me, a colorful blur of lights, banners, rides and people. Children laugh and run from one attraction to another, while music blares from speakers and people chatter excitedly.
It's a chaotic and lively scene, so different from the quiet routine I've been living until now. But despite the nerves knotting in my stomach, I'm exhilarated by the vibrant energy of the festival, and the thought of stepping out of hiding for just one day.
Marlene explained that the back-end work at the motel would start once Judy begins her first shift next week. Until then, I'm here, trying to balance my role as an employee requiring me to be friendly and outgoing with my instinct to stay under lock and key.
As I stand behind the counter of my concession stand, surrounded by colorful tents and the smell of sizzling food, my heart races with both excitement and nerves. But as soon as the first customers come up to the counter, all of that fades away. The familiar sounds of children's laughter and families chatting fill the air, along with the tempting aroma of freshly made waffles.
I pour batter onto the hot griddle and watch it bubble and rise, getting lost in my tasks. As I hand out warm plates of golden waffles topped with syrup and whipped cream, I can't help but smile at the happiness on each person's face. Children with sticky fingers eagerly take bites, their eyes wide with delight. And for a moment, I am fully immersed in the festival's lively and joyous atmosphere, forgetting about any worries or stress. This is what it's all about, bringing a little joy to others through delicious food. And as the shift goes on, I'm swept up in the whirlwind of positivity and hope it never ends.
I spot Mrs. Henderson coming up to the waffle booth. She’s a familiar face from the motel. Everyone there knows about her love of sweet treats and they all love her warm, chatty demeanor. She's wearing a floral dress, her white hair styled in soft curls.
A broad smile spreads across her face as she sees me. "Hello, dear! Oh my stars, what a delightful surprise to see you here," she shouts over the festival noise.
I force a smile, my eyes constantly scanning the crowd. "Hi Mrs. Henderson. Care for a waffle?" I ask, trying to maintain a casual tone despite my inner nervousness.
"Oh, goodness gracious, yes please! But load it up with heaps of strawberries and whipped cream, won't you?" she replies eagerly, her eyes sparkling with anticipation.
As I expertly pour the batter into the sizzling hot iron and prepare her waffle, I’m anxious. Every new face in the bustling crowd and every sudden movement makes me nervous. I feel exposed out here in the open.
Oblivious to how I’m feeling, Mrs. Henderson beams at me. "You know, my youngest granddaughter simply adores these festivals. The dazzling lights, the enchanting music," she shares with fondness, her gaze following a group of gleeful children running past.
"I can imagine," I respond briefly, handing her freshly made purchase over the counter. Its golden outer surface glistens under a luscious drizzle of syrup and the middle is overloaded with, a strawberry and whipped cream.
Mrs. Henderson takes a bite. "Yummy! It’s absolutely delicious! You truly are a talent, my dear."
