F****** at Lunch

Here I was, twenty six years old. Starting a new job, at a Customs Brokerage near LAX. This place was supposed to be tough, and it was. We didn’t have windows yet, but the old IBM AS400. Unbreakable, but batch processing had its woes. I was the assistant manager in the air import department. I sat all the way back, against the wall, so I could look at people who weren’t doing anything. And task them immediately.

Sitting next to me was a cute Philippina. About five feet away, on the port side. One thing led to another, and we started going to lunch together. Lots of places around LAX, so when I asked her what was the next place, she replied “The Wild Goose on Airport.” So off we went, to the Wild Goose, a pole dance, s*********, with surprisingly good food.

After that aroused lunch, we started going to my place, in Culver City and f****** like weasels. There must have been something wrong with her eyesight, metric to inches perhaps? Since told all the women in the office that I was packing nine inches. I was big, but no way a nine incher. She was tiny, a real LBFM.

About a week later, I’m in the copy room, makin’ copies, when the hottest women in the office, leaned against doorway of the copy machine room, and smiled. She was in a leather mini skirt, fish nets, and f*** me shoes. And was looking so s***, the temperature went up ten degrees. In a panic, I introduced myself, and we spoke for a while. As we waited for the car sized copy machine spit out my copies, I said offhand “we should go to lunch sometime.” In passing.

She immediately replied “How about today?” And I said sure. So when lunch time came around, we got into my 1964 Dodge 300 Nark Car, (huge car) and went not to lunch, but a groping session, parked behind some bushes off La Cienega. Then to my house, good lord that woman could f***. I lived ten minutes away from my new job. Also the Proud Bird’s expansive parking lot at night. On the hood, the trunk lid, one h**** woman flopped over the front seat, me drilling her from behind. She was beautiful inside too. Almost gave her a ring. We went out for a long time. But…

At the same time this was happening, I went in the warehouse, looking for some freight, and the cute but boyish warehouse supervisor, with the great a** planted one on me, out of nowhere. She had a huge tongue, and we made a little nest out of boxes of freight right there, where all sorts of thing would happen, during work, and after. No one found out, thank god. I did look a little mussed up, when I went back to my desk one time. My boss looked at me and said “Took a nooner huh? And started laughing.

The place was like the Love Boat, transporting freight in a novel way! Anchors away! Everyone was f****** everyone else.

I nailed the big boss’s secretary, all the time in my VW Baha Bug. Once I had to pinch off her nose, as we interrupted a Sherriff’s swat team knocking over a crack house in Lennox. One swat guy pointed at me, and started talking to his partner as we disappeared into the ghetto. She could really hold her breath. I guess she thought it was some s***** move. Balls deep.

Then they hired an honest to god h*****, and of course, they moved her next to me, her desk inches away. She wore French maid outfits to work, and drove a van! I didn’t even have to buy lunch. She was a real pro. We did all kinds of crazy stuff, out of the Kamasutra.

She replaced the girl from the Philippines, a great trade up! That van had a masseuse table in the middle of the cargo bay. Completely upholstered in black smooth vinyl. And restraints hanging from the roof. She got me hooked on rubber/latex s**.

I quit, after eight years of the blatant s**. I would miss the girl with the van, the LBFM. It was hard (ahem) to leave all my b******. Got an offer$$ to be the Vice President of a bonded warehouse in Compton. A venerable cornucopia of bored young women worked in its dank interior

Now that’s another story!