Morning Glorious!

I should be at work but I did a swap with a girl who owes me 10 so I will be working tomorrow and the whole weekend again. God damn rotating roster. I'd love to have permanent days, but as Christmas draws closer, the store just gets busier and it's all hands on deck. But losing the weekend is so worth it, especially seeing Richard will be busy overseeing his pub on a typically busy December weekend. I love a man who treats his girl properly. Even if Richard junior is not up to a morning screw, it doesn't mean Gina gets left wet and frustrated. You can't really blame him when he managed a very nice long screw session last night. He fucked me about four times but didn't come until the last. It must have hurt him a bit. How does he manage to stop I wonder?Didn't affect me though. And the other reason to stay home is a panty wash because I am pretty much out of clean underwear. Richard says he'll just take me out to get more this afternoon, but you can't leave a hamper full of wet knickers just sitting there can you? It comes from my insistence to wear underpants when not actually in that moment in the middle of a screw session. To make a point of difference. And to stop wandering hands being too tempted, thus distracting me from important tasks like cooking, brushing my teeth and talking on the phone. This chair has an odd pussy-ish smell now; see what happens when I'm lax? As long as you have panties on, you can focus. Although cooking with a shirt on would have been a good idea too. Little oil burn next to tattoo under collar bone. Ouch!

So I said I wouldn't fuck Richard, for all the complications it would cause. But I have, multiple times, and have now made my life incredibly complicated. I may have a tendency to sabotage myself. I stand at the crossroads, look between the signs for 'dangerous but fun' and 'right but slightly boring' and choose the former nearly every time.

To summarise last Friday (if I don't shorten my accounts I will never get properly up to the present), Richard came in early to treat himself to a hot breakfast, I opened to store so was the only waitress to serve him (and the 9 other all male early customers. Why is always men first thing?). Very much wanting some attention I flirted shamelessly, he responded in kind and when I daringly boob brushed him as I collected his dirty plates and glasses, he reached across and pinched a nipple through my shirt. Non-padded bras give everything away. Luckily my back was facing the open kitchen or I would be in a lot of trouble. That kind of behaviour generally deserves a slap, but Richard really is so lovely and I am a pathetic attention-whore, and I think maybe I have been harbouring a great big crush on him but trying to deny it. I felt quite giddy and sort of gasped and probably turned quite red but I was clearly responsive. I went to the kitchen with my dirty plates. When I returned to the counter, who should have slipped in but that terrible Anthony. I called him 'sir' rather than by his name, perfunctorily put his coffee order through and ignored his attempt to make conversation by walking off. I brought Richard an unnecessary glass of water and asked if there was anything else he wanted. You can probably guess the stupid sort of flirty thing he said, and he said it quite audibly, but he and Anthony were probably the only customers there that knew that kind of suggestiveness actually gets you somewhere with me. Seeing Anthony watching us I smiled quite horribly at him before I bent down and told Richard that I would come visit him at his pub after work. Don't think that I'm doing this to spite him. It's just that it was all timed quite conveniently and it's working out pretty well for me. More on Friday night in a moment; breakfast is served! Men who cook are incredibly sexy. In fact, I wouldn't mind trying a chef. They would be quite intense I expect.