Speedy Rewards

Chapter Three

Chapter Three

Vince

INSTEAD OF slapping the snooze bar a third time, Vince surrendered to his alarm, at last abandoning his denial that it was really time to roll out of bed. He clicked off the alarm and groaned at 5:18 a.m. As he willed his appendages to cooperate with his foggy brain, the dead weight of another man’s leg pinned his lower body to the mattress.

“Justin,” he slurred while pressing his palm against his lover’s shoulder, gently shoving him away from his body and simultaneously wresting his legs free.

“Unnngh,” Justin protested with a moan. “No more. Not tonight... my ass can’t take it.”

Vince snickered, fully aware of why his partner complained of a sore derriere. He’d really pounded Justin. Multiple times before they’d both finally collapsed. One thing Vince had to give him was that he certainly had stamina. Not many guys—or chicks, for that matter—had the fortitude to withstand three rounds with his nine-inch beast. Oh God, their last f**k had only been like four hours ago.

He slid a hand back under the covers to grope his semi-erect bad boy and then leaned down to kiss Justin’s temple. “Don’t worry. I’m done molesting your tight little ass. For now. Gotta go to work.” His c**k throbbed in protest, reminding Vince it had a mind of its own.

“Uh, okay.” Justin rolled away and pulled the covers up around him. “Love you.”

Vince patted him on the tush and then at last mustered the determination to heave himself off the mattress. He slipped out of bed and stumbled toward the bathroom, yawning as he stood in front of the commode to relieve himself. Still naked, he straightened his posture as a shiver traveled down his shoulders, causing his arms to tremble just enough for him to lose his aim. Good thing he had no female roommates to b***h about the piss all over the toilet seat.

After shaking out every last drop, he turned to face his reflection in the full length mirror. With c**k still in hand, he felt it twitch as he took in the sight of his broad shoulders and sculpted, perfectly smooth chest. His physique was nothing less than a work of art, and he had to admit, if he were someone else, he’d do him. Since high school he’d been working out, hitting the gym at least three times a week. His job also helped maintain his perfect appearance. A lot of heavy lifting and at times aerobic-like exercise.

Vince worked for Coca-Cola as a driver and deliveryman—not a job for p*****s. He put in long days of intense labor, but the pay was good. And the fringe benefits were awesome. He smiled, tightening his six-pack as he stared at his rock-solid core. He could rub one out right now in just a couple minutes. It didn’t matter he’d busted three nuts during the night. Like the Energizer Bunny, he was always ready.

Instead, he turned to the tub and started the shower. He’d already cut short his morning routine by twice hitting the snooze bar. Today would consist of non-stop deliveries, maneuvering a mammoth-sized eighteen-wheeler in heavy traffic, and dealing with a slew of asshole retail employees.

It wasn’t that he hated his job. On the contrary, he loved it. But it did involve quite a bit of schmoozing, kissing up, and slathering on the charm. Store managers and receivers could be major pains in his ass if he didn’t strive to stay on their good side. Customer service. A bunch of two-faced bullshit, really. He knew exactly how to make every one of them feel like his number one customer and best friend, even if he hated their guts. Most of them weren’t smart enough to come in out of the rain, though. If they had any brains at all, they wouldn’t be wasting themselves in a low-paying retail job.

Justin worked retail, which Vince didn’t particularly appreciate. But it was just a job, a source of cash flow while he attended college. And to be honest, it felt good to be the main breadwinner. Having more money made him feel better, gave him a little more authority. He really didn’t need money to feel superior and powerful. Vince knew he was the s**t.

At this point, the situation with Justin—which he wasn’t even sure he wanted to call a “relationship”—remained undefined. Waving gay pride flags and marching in parades were not activities he ever saw himself doing. Most of the gay dudes he’d encountered were embarrassing. Too flamboyant and girly. He and Justin weren’t like that. Well, maybe Justin a tiny bit more than him. But for the most part, people thought they were just roommates.

They were, kinda. It’s not like he’d made a commitment or anything. He’d never sworn to remain monogamous. Christ, he didn’t even know the meaning of the word. Did any guy, really?

Why’d people have to label everything? This one’s gay. That one’s straight or bi. Vince was a good-looking, fit guy who was in the prime of his life. He didn’t need to explain himself to anyone. When he wanted to f**k, he f****d.

Once in the shower, lathered up, his c**k sprung to life again, and this time he didn’t resist the urge to fist and pump it. He could prolong an o****m when he wanted to, but at times like this, he could also take care of business expeditiously. He gripped his rigid pole firmly and stroked, bringing himself quickly to a c****x.

Back in the bedroom, he used the closet light to get dressed. His work uniform simplified the task—gray button-down short-sleeved shirt bearing a company logo, and matching twill work pants. On his way to the bottling company distribution center, he stopped at one of the Speedy Mart convenience stores for a coffee and energy shot. He had a couple of these stores on his route, but not the one he visited as a customer. He made it to the warehouse just before his scheduled depart time of six a.m. His truck, as usual, had already been loaded, and each delivery had been programmed into his hand-held computer. When he arrived at each delivery point, he simply pulled up the pick slip on his touch screen and printed it out using his handy-dandy portable printer.

As he clocked in at the warehouse, one of the other drivers, Ted, stepped up behind him. About a decade older than Vince, neither Ted’s physique nor overall attractiveness were even in the same league with Vince or the guys Vince found attractive. Seriously, the guy was kind of gross with his distended belly hanging over his belt. His toxic breath didn’t help matters either, and Vince stepped away from him as soon as he punched the clock.

“Hey, man, did you check your route yet?” Ted asked in his typical, grumbly voice.

“Uh, no. Not yet. I’m headed out now, though.”

“Better check it. Looks like they moved some s**t around on the routes. I ain’t got that Speedy Mart today like I usually do. Maybe you got it.”

“Which one?” Vince stepped over to his locker to retrieve his PDA.

“On Cass Avenue,” Ted said. “The real busy one.”

“Oh fuck.” Vince looked down at his screen. “Yeah, I do have it. That sucks, man. I already have two Speedy Marts.”

“Nice commission, though. I don’t get why they took it from me to give to you. That’s been my stop for years.”

Vince shrugged, raising his eyebrows. “Maybe ’cause you suck?” He grinned and laughed. Ted glared at him, and if looks could kill, Vince knew he’d be dead. “Dude, I’m just yankin’ your chain. Probably a mixup. Talk to management.”

Ted crossed his arms over his chest, resting his elbows against the shelf created by his protruding belly. “Gonna file a grievance,” he said. “This is bullshit.”

“There ya go,” Vince said, again smiling. This time, he added a wink. “Good luck with that. But just for the record, I do fine with the customers I already have. I’m not out to steal the accounts from other drivers.”

“Yeah right,” Ted said, taking a step back. He extended his arm to point a finger at Vince. “I been here for eighteen years, and I got seniority. I’ve seen guys like you before, plenty of em. I better not find out—”

“You better not find out what, Ted?” Vince’s testosterone level ramped up about five hundred nanograms in a split second. He stepped closer to his accuser. “You wouldn’t be threatening me, now would ya... Old Man?”

Before the confrontation could escalate further, a coworker stepped between them. “There was a complaint,” Shari, the office manager said, raising her hand to Ted, as if to hold him at bay. “The district manager at that Speedy Mart asked for a new driver. We didn’t have time to shift all the deliveries around, but it’ll be resolved by the end of the week. Ted, you’ll get another drop added to your route once we get it sorted out.”

“That’s bullshit,” he protested.

“No, it’s like I said,” Vince spat. “You suck, and they wanted a new driver. Deal with it.” He spun around and headed briskly down the hallway toward the exit before Ted or Shari could reply.

Vince vaulted into the cab of the truck, adrenaline still surging. The nerve of that guy. He hated people like that. “I’ve been here for eighteen years,” Vince repeated Ted’s complaint in a mocking, whiny voice. “Get over it. s**t happens. Things change... out with the old, in with the new.”

He cranked the ignition and checked his mirrors then shifted into gear and began pulling away from the dock. Vince vaguely remembered the Speedy Mart store on Cass Avenue. He might have delivered there once before, a long time ago, when covering for a vacation or something. He’d do a drive-by on his way to his first stop. The Speedy Mart stores did not receive deliveries until after eight a.m. anyway, so he could swing back. But he’d take a look as he drove by to determine the entrance he should use and where he should park to unload the delivery.

Delivering to convenience stores and restaurants could be challenging. The available parking often did not readily accommodate large trucks, and when the business was located alongside a highway, parking on the street wasn’t an option. Cass Avenue certainly wasn’t a side street, either. Major f*****g thoroughfare.

By the time he turned onto Cass Avenue, Vince had all but forgotten the confrontation at the warehouse. He focused on his route and what lay in store for him. Somewhat stoked by the fact he’d acquired a new account, he knew exactly what he needed to do. Just like with all first-time deliveries, he’d kiss the manager’s ass and make a hell of an impression. He’d pour on the charm, and with any luck, the manager would be female. Those were the easiest, the most malleable. By the time he left that store, he’d have her eating from the palm of his hand. And hey, even if he had to deal with a guy, he’d handle the situation just as smoothly. Usually bringing up sports did the trick.

There it is.

The glaring canopy lamps outside the building lit the property like a beacon. In the current pre-dawn haze, the Speedy Mart’s bright lights practically hurt his eyes. He blinked in order to focus. Yeah, just the one entrance. He’d be able to swing around to the side of the building, and backing out should be no problem.

He nodded, and stepped on the gas; then, seemingly out of nowhere, a car appeared. What the f**k? What the hell was it doing? Knowing immediately he had no time to brake, he pulled down on his horn. The f*****g car had stalled out right in front of him and he was about to t-bone it.

Son of a b***h! He whipped the wheel to the right as he slammed on the brakes, still barreling at breakneck speed. The eighteen-wheeler careened into the parking lot, and for a split second Vince knew he was going to die. The truck headed straight toward the pumps, so again he jerked on the wheel as the earsplitting screech of his breaks sent a chill of terror down his spine. He now headed directly toward the store’s huge pricing sign. The two twenty-five-foot girders were positioned like goal posts, an enormous, illuminated price-ID sign resting atop them. His only option was to sail between them.

The front wheels of the truck slammed against the curb, rocking the cab forward and then rapidly lurched as the back wheels crashed back down against the pavement. He bounced in his seat, white-knuckling the steering wheel, brakes still howling. At last the vehicle stopped with an incredible hiss of protest.

“f**k!” He slung open his door and slid out of the cab then turned to see the trailer wedged squarely between the poles. “Not exactly how I planned to make a good impression.”