Drama At the DQ

I got my job at Dairy Queen back when I was in high school, and as was to be expected, most of my coworkers were close to my age. Some were younger, some a little older, but all students at my school. This was not true of the managers. There was one manager, really, and two assistant managers, and then a couple of shift leaders.

I worked the counter. We took customers orders, made the treats, wiped down the counters and worked the registers. The shift leads and managers would make sure that things were going well, would walk the dining room and wipe down tables, help out making treats when things got really busy, and handle customer complaints.

The trouble started when my boyfriend got back from college. He was a shift lead, and had been the one who got me the job in the first place. After a few days back, they gave him the keys and allowed him to close up the store on his own. I was scheduled to work with him that first night, and we ended up spending the whole time in the back storage room having sex. It had been a long time since he’d been home, and I missed him!

This became the ritual. We would try to get scheduled together, and if he was the closing lead, we’d work only through the rush, then adjourn to the storage room where we’d screw, screw screw! Our coworkers knew what was going on, but (we assumed) didn’t really care.

We were wrong.

I guess it bothered them. In hindsight, it would have bothered me, too. And I hadn’t really thought about the other consequence – the fact that the company was paying me my hourly wage to get laid, effectively making me a prostitute. I guess it’s all in how you look at things, right?

It was a Wednesday night, and Tom was set to close the store. There were usually four employees and a shift lead on a closing shift in the summers on weekdays, but Tom had been asking for extra help so I could spend the evening in back without severely disrupting the customers. It didn’t seem odd to me, but it was something that didn’t escape my notice. That night, I was the only girl working. It happened once in a while, where a shift would end up being all guys, or all girls, but it was rare. We had a pretty even number of guys and girls, and usually ended up pretty evenly split on any given shift.

I was working six to close, which was midnight all summer long. Closing the store would usually take about an hour, so I was expected to be there until about one AM. The dinner rush lasted until about seven thirty or so, and then, once things slowed down, I helped wipe everything down, threw away some of the garbage and stuff that had dropped on the floor, and helped clean up the dining room. Everyone knew what would come next – I’d go pee, and then disappear into the storage room for the next four hours with Tom.

Robert was one of the Assistant Managers – probably the cooler of the two. Definitely better than the manager, Gordon, who was an older guy, in his fifties, I think, who always seemed angry and for whom nothing we did was ever good enough. If we got a 95% on a secret shop, he was pissed off that we didn’t get a 97%. If we had a lull in customers and used the time to clean the chain broiler, he’d get angry that we didn’t restock the freezers. He was impossible to please, and no one really liked him.

Robert was only a couple of years older than most of us. He’d gone to community college for two years, and then dropped out and started working full time at Dairy Queen, supposedly on the manager track. He was hoping to get his own store by the time he was twenty five.

I learned, after the fact, that some of the other employees had complained to Robert about the situation that had been going on since Tom returned from College, and that he’d planned a surprise visit for that night to catch us in the act. His original plan had been to fire us.

Tom and I have always had a great sexual relationship. We’re both pretty wild, willing to try anything once, and each is comfortable enough with the other to be able to talk about anything. It was therefore not so odd that, when Robert used his keys and quietly unlocked the door and peeked inside, I was wearing nothing but my DQ smock and baseball cap, bending lewdly over and feeding Tom an ice cream cone. We were role playing.

Robert’s mind changed at that moment, as he was staring through the crack in the door at my bare backside, my glistening pussy and puckered little starfish unknowingly on bawdy display for him. That’s when he decided that he wasn’t going to fire us, but was going to have fun with me instead.

The Dairy Queen smock is really just a button-down overshirt. It’s brown and has a DQ logo on the breast, and four buttons down the front. You are supposed to wear it over your street clothes so you don’t get ice cream, hot fudge, strawberry or other toppings on your clothes. I was wearing it, and nothing else. The buttons were undone, so when I moved my breasts were easily visible. The smock was shorter, so in the back it covered only the top quarter of my butt. In front, without the buttons closed, it provided absolutely no protection for my bare pussy.

Robert decided to come in and talk to us. He refused to allow me to dress, but instead had Tom and I stand, facing him, while he sat on the upturned pickle bucket that had been Tom’s seat. I begged over and over for the next ten minutes to allow me to pull my jeans on, or even to button my smock, but he refused, repeating that we were both on the verge of being fired.

The thought of going home and telling my parents that I’d been fired, and then trying to explain exactly why, made me a lot more compliant and less argumentative as he lectured us about how this looked to the rest of the staff, and how this made everyone else feel.

I was nervous, clutching my smock to my body, trying to cover as much as I could while I stood and listened to him calmly and quietly berating Tom and me. Finally he seemed to be coming to the end of his speech. Then, what he said next really surprised me.

“And then I walk in here, and it’s obvious to me that it’s nothing like I thought it was. I thought that you were just screwing your girlfriend, Tom, but I come to find that she’s the one trying to seduce you. I’m very disappointed in you, Cheryl.”

I was stunned for a moment, and I could tell that Tom was, too.

“What?” I finally said.

“Look at the facts,” Robert replied. “Tom’s fully dressed, sitting back here, and you’re almost naked, holding an ice cream cone, trying to talk him into something that he obviously had no intention of doing. I was thinking that both of you were to blame, but now I see it’s just you, Cheryl.”

“That’s not true!” Tom replied, louder than any of us had been. He was jumping to my rescue, and I felt a surge of love for him despite the situation. “We were both back here. We’re both equally guilty!”

“It’s chivalrous of you to try to defend her, but I know what I saw,” Robert replied.

My brain was spinning. If I got fired, I could make something up to tell my parents. I was sleeping in the storage room and got caught, maybe. If Tom kept his job it would be less tricky to explain.

“Thanks for trying to protect me, Tom,” I said quietly, staring at the ground. “But he knows.”

Tom and Robert both looked at me. Tom was a little shocked, Robert had a slight grin, but still looked surprised.

“There’s no sense in both of us getting fired,” I continued quietly.

“I don’t want to fire you, but I have to be sure that you’ve learned your lesson,” Robert replied thoughtfully. “I think we should start with apologies to the guys up front.”

I looked around hopefully. If I was hearing him right, it sounded like I wasn’t going to be fired after all, and therefore wouldn’t have to think of an excuse to tell my parents, or worry about them finding out exactly what had led to my dismissal. I was definitely in favor of any plan that kept me away from that conversation!

“I’ll totally apologize to them!” I said, relief dripping from my voice. “I’ll even work a shift for them if they want me to!”

“Tom,” Robert said calmly, “go relieve one of the guys and send him back so Cheryl can apologize to him.”

Tom looked at me, concern and apology etched into his face, then turned and walked from the room. I automatically reached for my jeans.

“What are you doing?” Robert asked.

“Putting my clothes on. People are coming back here.”

“You took your clothes off on your own. You elected to be naked at work, so you can just stay that way,” Robert said sternly.

I was arguing brilliantly when the door opened and Josh walked in. He didn’t seem to notice at first that I was naked below the waist, but after I dove into the corner, pulling my knees to my chin and wrapping my arms around myself, he stopped short.

“Cheryl has something to say to you,” Robert said, interrupting my argument. He stood and indicated that Josh should take his seat on the pickle bucket.

“Please!” I begged.

“Your attire was your choice. Now speak to Josh.”

“I’m sorry!” I said lamely.

“Stand up straight and show him some respect,” Robert chided. Josh sat staring, confused and dumbfounded, and didn’t say a word.

It took close to a full minute for me to find my courage, but eventually I stood. My hands were both clasped firmly in front of my crotch, my arms pulling the smock tight to my body, keeping my breasts covered.

“Relax, please. Arms at your sides,” Robert scolded. “I’m not going to let you leave here, and Josh and I will continue to wait, until you do this properly.”

I could feel the heat radiating from my face. We stood, staring at one another, Josh all but forgotten, for close to another minute before I dropped my gaze and moved my hands.

“Now tell Josh what you want to tell him.”

“I’m sorry,” I started again. “I know that it must suck for you, having me come in, getting paid the same as you, but you having to work while I hang out back here. I know it’s wrong, and I know it makes me a jerk. I’m really sorry, though, and I should have thought about you and the other guys instead of being selfish.”

Josh looked away from my body finally to glance to Robert, and then back to me. “Sure,” he said tentatively. “It’s cool.”

“Thank you, Josh,” Robert said in reply. “Can you please go relieve another of your coworkers and send him back?”

Josh slowly rose from the pickle bucket and sidestepped out of the room, his eyes on me the entire time.

“I’ll not have you acting that way all night,” Robert told me before Josh had left the room.

“Why are you making me do this?” I begged.

“Like I said, your wardrobe was your own choice,” he replied. “They each deserve an apology.”

“But I work with them! I go to school with them! And I’m naked!”

“You’re wearing your smock and your hat, so you’re not naked.”

“Oh, yeah, this covers everything! I cried, pulling the smock from my body and throwing it angrily to the ground. He’d already seen my boobs, so what difference did it make?

“Again, it’s your choice,” he said, picking up the smock and throwing it with my clothes.

Suddenly I realized I was now standing there in nothing but a Dairy Queen baseball cap, and one of my other coworkers and classmates was on his way back to receive an apology – and an eyeful!

“Can I have my smock back?” I begged. “Please!” I was glancing nervously toward the door, covering myself with my arms again.

“Once again, your wardrobe choice was your own. If you don’t want to be fired, you’ll cooperate.”

“What if I tell Gordon that you’re doing this?” I retorted.

“Yes, that would be wise. Explain to him what you were doing, and the fact that you have been doing this for a few weeks. Let him figure out how many hours he’s paid you and your boyfriend for, and let’s see if it falls under the category of grand larceny. Because that’s what you’ve been doing – stealing from the company. Every paycheck you’ve received since Tom got back from school has been a lie, and qualifies as theft. Then you can explain to your parents why you’re upset, and what you were doing to get you into this situation.”

I was shocked, and reeling. I couldn’t think of an argument. He was taking advantage of me, sure, but he was also saving my butt. He was risking his own job by NOT firing Tom and I right there on the spot. He could easily do it, and would be justified. So he was asking me to give the guys a thrill – to make up in part for my taking advantage of them – by letting them all see me naked. In return I got to keep my job, didn’t have to explain anything to my parents, and didn’t have to worry about the possibility that Gordon would actually seek legal action against me. I could totally see him doing it.

“It’s just embarrassing,” was all I could reply. “These guys go to school with me!”

“It’s your decision,” Robert replied.

I couldn’t look him in the eye. I hung my head, and allowed my arms to drop to my sides, uncovering my body completely now. Thirty seconds of silence later, Taylor walked in the room.

“Holy crap!” he said, laughing. “I thought he was bullshitting!”

Robert just smiled and ushered him the rest of the way into the storage room, once again indicating that he should sit on the pickle bucket. I repeated my apology, remembering that my purpose here was to give a show, but that my payment was so much more than embarrassment.

This scene repeated itself with Ethan and Jacob, leaving me red-faced and actually sweating a little bit. Robert took my clothes with him and asked me to wait there while he checked on the store. I stood alone in the storage room, my bare feet a little cold against the concrete floor, pacing nervously around the room. It seemed that he was gone a very long time, and instinctively I covered myself as he let himself back into the room.

“We’ve talked about it, and decided that tonight will be your only punishment. You’ve been stealing from the company, so I’m going to log into the computer and reverse your hours for tonight. You’ll work the entire shift without pay.”

His posture and attitude told me that he anticipated I would argue, but what he was proposing was fair, and I was still grateful, so I simply nodded in agreement.

“You’re going to work the back tonight, for the rest of your shift. Dishes, cleanup, inventory, and stocking the shelves.”

I nodded once again. Those were the worst jobs – so boring and monotonous. I always got soaked when I did dishes, because there were three huge sinks. One filled with soap water, one with clean water, and one with sanitizer. Above was a fire-hose of a filling nozzle that could be directed into any of the sinks, but which sprayed every which way. The dishes had to be thoroughly cleaned and scrubbed in the soap water, rinsed completely in the center sink, and soaked in the sanitizer solution before they could be put on the drying racks.

“After we close we’ll get the dining room and the counter. You’ll clean up back here, clean the machines, and unhook the bags.”

The ice cream for the soft-serve machines came in bags. Nozzles ran from the machines up front through the wall and into the large walk-in refrigerator. At the end of every day we would unhook the bags and drain the machines into a clean runoff bucket that was used to make shakes. Then we’d fill 5-gallon buckets with warm water and a cleaning solution and run it through the machine, cleaning out the piping inside. Then we’d run a second bucket of plain, clean water through, and leave the machine open so nothing would get stagnant. It’s a time consuming job, but not difficult. I agreed once again. It was clear that he was giving me all the worst jobs that night. I was actually a bit surprised that he wasn’t having me clean the counter area and the dining room. Mopping out there was always a tough job.

“You’ll get your clothes back after your shift,” he finished.

“What?” I couldn’t believe what he’d said.

“We all agreed that it was the best punishment. It will certainly stop you from behaving this way again. Your clothes are locked in the Managers office, and I have the only key. You can call Gordon to come get them out for you, you can agree to my terms, or you can quit. I promised not to fire you, and I won’t.”

He left me alone to think about things. I could sit in the storage room all night, wait for the store to close, and then wait for them to finish cleaning. They’d have to give me back my clothes. But then I’d be fired – I was sure of it. Or he’d assume I’d quit. I agreed to work, and to do all the crap jobs. I just hadn’t agreed to do them naked.

My second option was to tell him that I quit. I would take my clothes back, dress, and go home. How would I explain it to my parents? And then I’d already allowed my classmates and coworkers to see me naked, and that would all have been for nothing.

My third option, and the hardest to reconcile, was to open the door, walk out into the store, and start cleaning. The entire back area was invisible to the customers. The walk-in cooler that housed the food and soft-serve ice cream was as big as the entire counter area, and blocked the view of the sinks, manager’s office, storage racks, and even the door to the storage room. I could safely do my nights work without any customers being aware that I was even in the building, let alone naked.

It still took me over five minutes to decide and gather up my courage. I closed my eyes, pulled open the door, and walked meekly through, wearing nothing by my red and white baseball cap. No one was back there – it sounded like there was a crowd of customers out front, and they were all busy. I immediately went to the sinks and filled the first with soapy water. There was no way I was going to stay dry, so when filling the next I hardly bothered trying to prevent it. By the time all three sinks were full I was almost as wet as if I’d been in the shower. At least on my front. All six guys found excuses to run back to check me out as I worked, and I did nothing to hide from them.

Slipping and sliding with my wet bare feet on the tile floor, I quickly washed what dishes there were, and once they were on the dry rack, I began pulling boxes from the storage room and restocking the shelves in back. As I was working, all night long, each guy was given a fifteen minute break. They all spent their breaks in back, chatting with me and following me around as I worked, sweating or dripping with water from the sinks. They were not shy in staring, or talking about my body. Three of the guys asked if I had always shaved my pussy completely. Ethan pointed out that I had a smudge on my left tit after I had wrestled a large box of parfait cups in from the storage room.

I promised Tom that I wasn’t upset with him, and begged him to not make an issue of anything. “I’ve gone through so much already, and if you go and piss everyone off, it will just make it worse for me. Just let me get through this and move on.” I had begged. Reluctantly he agreed to not interfere with anything unless I asked him to, no matter what.

When closing time came, the six guys made record time cleaning the dining room and counter, and then all came in back to watch me as I spent the next hour finishing my tasks in closing the store. The comments grew more and more raucous as the night progressed, each guy feeding off the others, until it was almost a contest to see who could push me over the edge. Tom, I could tell, was on the verge of interfering, but I smiled reassuringly at him whenever I could, and just took their joking in stride. These were guys I’d known for years. Four of the six had been classmates since fourth or fifth grade. As much as I might hate it, I did trust them.

I made no effort to cover up. If I had to bend to unhook the shake machine, I did so as I normally would, unconcerned that they were seeing my bare pussy from behind, or possibly seeing my butt hole. They began to call out jobs for me to do, most of which were unnecessary but would require that I end up in a revealing position.

“If I promise to pose for you for five minutes when I’m done, can I just finish cleaning up?” I offered after I’d bent at the waist for a third time to check that the ice cream bag wasn’t leaking.

“Fifteen minutes and we’ll help you finish cleaning!” offered Robert.

“Ten,” I countered.

“Ten and you clean on your own. Fifteen and we help.”

“My offer was five minutes!” I whined, hands on my hips.

“We rejected that offer. Ten and you finish on your own, fifteen and we help.”

“Half hour and you can take a break ‘till we’re done!” offered Ethan.

Tom tried to interfere, but I didn’t need his help. Something about it sparked my anger – I’d been bending over and spreading my legs for the past twenty minutes, and NOW he was going to stop it?

“Fine,” I agreed quickly, talking over Tom’s stuttered protests. “Half an hour. I’m on break now until you guys are done, though.” I walked away from them to the triple sink with as much dignity as I could, with my damp bare feet slipping on the tile floor. I washed my hands and tucked my hair neatly back into my baseball cap using the silver paper towel dispenser as a makeshift mirror. I had chocolate or fudge on my thigh, what I think was strawberry juice on my stomach, and a sticky left boob, so I grabbed a clean towel and poured some soap and hot water on it.

I had just finished cleaning myself up when Robert announced the store officially done. It had taken them only five minutes to complete what would have been at least another twenty minutes work for me. Five people working together certainly is more efficient than one!

So much for my break.

It was quarter to one in the morning. I spent the next half hour posing, dancing, doing the splits, doing handstands, pulling my vagina open with my fingers, and even teasing the opening with a banana. I had initially refused to put it inside, for fear that it could break inside me and then I’d have to go to the emergency room. Jacob solved that problem by rolling a condom down the length of the banana and handing it back to me.

Needless to say, these guys are now intimately familiar with me.

I didn’t even bother to try to remain modest when I cleaned off my feet afterward. What was the point? I simply jumped up into the triple sink and basically took a bath – my butt in the center tub, my feet in the far left. Robert, as promised, retrieved my clothes, and I dressed to a chorus of boos from the guys. After five hours of me parading around naked, they still wanted more. That was actually a little flattering.

“Any time you two want to have sex at work, now you know the cost,” Robert said.

“Get me on the schedule with four guys again, and we’ll talk!” I joked, leaving five stunned faces behind us as Tom and I walked out the door to his car.

The end.