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Diary Entry: August 24th

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August 24th


I didn't actually need the gas.

But she didn't know that.

She also didn't know that there were closer, more convenient places for me to go to get it. As it was, the Standard Station #722 was 25 minutes out of my way...in the opposite direction of both work and home.

I didn't care though, if it meant I got to see her.

I'd already driven by the station three times since our first meeting, hoping to catch her in the booth again. All beautiful and distracted. So far, the trips hadn't paid off, but today...today she was there.

This time she saw me as I drove up, walking out of the booth as if to greet me. By the time I'd put the car in park, she was there, standing next to me, peering down into the driver's seat. She'd smiled. Smoothed her hair back, even though none of it was loose. She was happy to see me. I could tell.

"Fill her up?" she'd asked me, her voice even sweeter than I'd imagined. It was high-pitched and eager...like a little girl. Her body, too, was like a teenager's before she'd hit puberty. Barely-there breasts, so small that she didn't need a bra. Her nipples poked through two layers of shirts, which were slouchy on her, but did nothing to hide how thin she was underneath them.

Her legs seemed to go all the way up to her neck, so long they went on forever. I thought about how they'd feel around my waist. I almost lost it then, but reined it in, knowing I could replay it all later.

"Sure. That'd be great," I'd said, releasing the latch on the gas cap for her.

"Is this one of those hybrid cars..." she'd asked as she took my credit card and glanced at the front before swiping it at the pump. Then she added, "...Kyle?"

The way she said my name made me feel special.

She'd probably been trained to personalize her interactions with costumers to maximize tips. It was actually a pretty smart move, but only a fool would fall for it. And I wasn't a fool.

"It's a Prius," I'd said, patting the black exterior of my car like it was an old friend.  "Gets great gas mileage and helps the environment."

I didn't give a rat's ass about helping the environment.

The real reason I'd chosen the car was because everyone in California had one. It was like Starbucks...there was one on every corner. Which meant it'd be damn-near impossible to track me down based on its description alone. It was the perfect car if you wanted to blend in.

"That means we see you less at the station, though," the girl had responded, poutily.

My pulse started to race.

"Well, Emmy..." Her name was printed on the rectangular nametag conveniently placed above her left breast, this way I could sneak a peek without being considered a pervert. "I do a lot of driving, so we'll probably see each other more often than you think."

She crinkled up her nose, trying to figure out if I was hitting on her or not. After assessing me—taking in my clean-cut outfit, my well-crafted hairstyle and the dimples I was flashing—she smiled.

This was usually when the girl tried to get me to do something. I was a good-looking guy, so I understood it...I worked out, dressed nicely, had great genes, so I was ageing well. I was a catch. And after a few minutes of conversation, most of them wanted something from me: a meal, a drive in my car, sex, a relationship...

So, I was ready for what I thought would come next.

Instead, she'd pulled the hose out of my tank and placed it back in its holding space. Then she handed me my receipt.

"Well, that's good, because I can't afford to lose my job," she'd said with a wink. Then she started to walk away.

I stopped her by calling out her name. When she turned around, it was like looking at a work of art. The sun shone behind her, making her dark hair glow an intriguing shade of red. She stood there with her legs crossed and her arms delicately down by her side. There was something graceful about the way she moved, and I wanted her to come back to me.

Now.

I held out a twenty, watching as her eyes went wide with surprise, and then she was there next to my car again, accepting the bill shyly.

"Thanks," she'd said. It was clear she hadn't expected the tip and I wondered if she wasn't different than the others. Special even.

Then she pranced away, looking back to give me a little wave before disappearing once again into the booth.

Emmy.

I'd never had an Emmy before.

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by BL Gielen
@BLGielen
Emmy will stop at nothing to become the next Prima ballerina - so wha...
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