Trixie was terrified. You wouldn’t think that a thirty-seven year old woman would be experiencing such intense panic just because it was her first day of work. But she had never had a job in her life. And the job in question . . .
Trixie had experienced an eventful summer. After eighteen years of marriage to the same man, she had walked out of their home. Of course, that was after realizing they hadn’t actually been in love for a long time and after having sex with a handful of young soccer players and one cheerleader. After a week of total debauchery, she left him and had gone to live with her younger sister for a while. Her sister Margaret was a dear soul who had no problem with letting Trixie stay as long as she needed. Margaret had been married to a wonderful man named Samuel who managed an electronics store. They had two darling sons named Matthew and Jacob, ages five and seven, who absolutely adored their Aunt Trixie, and the feeling was mutual. Margaret and Sam had listened to her calmly when she explained her emotional reasons for leaving her husband Paul, though she left out the wild-orgy-with-eighteen-year-old-boys part of the story. They both understood. While neither of them had any personal problems with Paul, both had noticed a distinct lack of chemistry. But like her, there wasn’t anything in particular about him that they felt warranted a divorce. Trixie agreed to look after the kids during the day since both their parents worked. It saved her sister some daycare money and gave Trixie something to do. Her nephews were a constant source of entertainment. Her own son Roger, now eighteen, had treated her with nothing but disdain for years.
When her husband got home and read the note she had left, he called her immediately. What was strange was that in their first conversation over the phone, he didn’t sound surprised. They agreed to meet at a public place to talk things over. That meeting was a surprise for both of them, because it was the first heart-to-heart talk they had engaged in for ten years at least. Much like Trixie, Paul realized after reading her message that they hadn’t really been a couple for a long time. He even apologized for not noticing earlier. What Trixie had expected to be a hostile encounter turned out to be the most pleasant conversation she had had with him since they had gotten married. Neither of them can figure out what had gone wrong or when, but they both acknowledged that it was over long ago. Paul admitted to having cheated on her a number of times, which didn’t upset her at all. She admitted to “a recent infidelity,” but didn’t go into details. Trixie realized that it might take some time, but that eventually they might wind up being better friends than they ever were as spouses or lovers to each other. Despite Trixie’s insistence that she had no intention of asking for anything from him in the divorce, as she truly felt none of it belonged to her, Paul insisted on sending her alimony. They both laughed at the idea of the husband forcing his soon-to-be-ex-wife to take his money against her will. He would help out until she found a way of getting back on her feet. Since their son Roger was over eighteen, there was no need to discuss custody. As if he would want to have anything to do with his mother after the divorce. He had barely noticed she was alive before.
They chatted well into the evening, parting with a warm and genuine hug. It was like the real world being unveiled to both of them after living in shadow for almost two decades. They exchanged numbers and made plans to meet with each other’s lawyers, and then they went their separate ways.
Trixie spent a few weeks adjusting to being single for the first time since high school. She wasn’t someone’s wife anymore. She wasn’t someone’s caretaker. She wasn’t a soccer mom. She was just Trixie again, and that took some getting used to. She played with her nephews for hours on end, but she knew that once school started again they would be off to kindergarten for Matthew and the second grade for Jacob, and she would be left alone in the house all day. She needed to start down the path towards self-sufficiency, but realized with some apprehension that she had no idea where that road began. Her sister told her to just start checking the paper and going to job agencies. Something would come up.
She did as her sister had suggested. Once the kids were back in school, she started pounding the pavement looking for some kind of job. Her sister lived in town, so she was able to utilize public transportation. That didn’t seem so bad until she had to sit next to a few truly disturbing looking individuals who smelled a tad unsanitary. She applied for secretarial jobs, cooking jobs and waitress positions. It was depressing for her to realize that those were the only things she was qualified to do, and that she was going to wind up losing those jobs to people who had even the most useless of college degrees simply BECAUSE they had degrees. After a few weeks, her spirits had hit rock bottom. Then she got a call from Dennis and Brandy, two of the young people who had helped awaken her sexual passions, which in turn led to her leaving her husband. They wanted to come and visit her, an offer that she gladly accepted. She could use some cheering up.
They drove up on a Friday afternoon after their classes let out and rented a hotel room. Brandy had gotten a car from her parents when she started college, so she was able to transport them around. Trixie had told her sister that she was going to go out with some friends, but didn’t mention who. She felt like she was back in high school and lying to her parents. They went to a movie, played miniature golf and then decided to go to dinner. Having those two young people around made her feel good again.
On Brandy’s almost joking suggestion, they had dinner at the local Hooters restaurant. It turned out to be a great idea. All three of them ogled the top-heavy waitresses and got their fingers really messy. The place was fairly busy, and from the “Help Wanted” sign in the window, the trio was able to discern that the establishment was understaffed.
“You should apply here!” said Brandy. “You would look so cute in one of those uniforms!”
“Oh stop it!” Trixie said blushing. “Can you imagine that? Me, a thirty-seven year old woman working at a place like this? No one would want to order wings from a mother hen.”
“Trixie, you are once again forgetting that you are attractive. Hell, I could picture you working here.” Dennis closed his eyes. “Actually, I’m picturing it right now.” He smiled.
His girlfriend was grinning from ear to ear. While their relationship had blossomed into full-fledged romance since they had all gotten together, the two of them had still expressed interest in “knowing” the older woman in the biblical sense. They had shared some spectacular sex before Trixie had left, and none of them wanted to call a halt to it quite yet.
“C’mon Trixie, at least fill out an application. What have you got to lose?”
“Are you looking for a job?”
Trixie turned to look at the new voice, and came face to face with a great set of tits. There was a nametag attached to them that read “Candy.” Indeed they were!
“We are SO needing help right now. A bunch of our summer help had to go back to part-time once school started, so we are really short on the late shift,” said Candy.
Trixie finally tore her gaze away from the massive bosoms. She herself was generously endowed, but this girl was almost porn-star-proportions. And she was very pretty as well, with long black hair, strong cheekbones and a wide smile. Her brown eyes sparkled in a friendly manner, and they were almost as inviting as those boobs that were straining against the trademarked shirt all the waitresses wore. She had a flat tummy and medium-sized hips that tapered into good, muscular, waitress-style legs.
“I . . . I don’t think I could. I mean, I don’t have any waitress experience,” Trixie stuttered, trying to keep her eyes from going back to those tits.
“Oh, that doesn’t matter much around here. Most of our clientele aren’t horribly concerned about professionalism. Give them barbecued wings, a beer and a waitress in a skimpy outfit and they are pretty much good to go. I could get you an application if you’d like!”
“I really don’t know . . .”
“C’mon Trixie,” said Brandy. “You’ve applied for waitress positions all over town, and now you’ve got one beating down your door!”
“But I’m sure they’ve got an age limit or something. Don’t you?” she asked, turning to Candy.
“Not . . . that . . . I know of. But why would that matter to you?” The girl looked a bit perplexed. “How old are you? Twenty-six? Twenty-seven?”
“Add a decade.”
Candy’s eyes widened to the size of saucers. “No way!”
“Yeah way.” Despite everything, Trixie was feeling a bit smug. She worked hard to stay in shape, and for someone to think she was ten years younger than she actually was pleased her greatly.