Fringe Benefits (7 page)
Authors: SL Carpenter
So Into You*
Hired Help*
Full Service
It’s Alive
Suite 69*
Owned
Amuse Me
Love Song
Need You Now
(* - co-written with Sahara Kelly)
(S.L. Carpenter is present in the process of revising and re-editing some of his early works. They will be reappearing soon. Please check his website for details and release dates.)
Scott’s work is available for your Kindle at Amazon.com. You can also drop by his author page
here
.
For a sneak peek at a couple of other S.L. Carpenter stories, read on!
Full Service
(A Working Stiffs Novella)
Leaving work Rachel noticed her gaslight on. The oil light was also flashing and she wasn’t the type to take care of her car. She usually went to the small station around the corner from her work. They were a full service station and she liked seeing all the mechanics running around the place. A couple of the guys were real eye candy.
Some of the girls went out on dates with a couple of the men working there. They’d joke and giggle about them over coffee but she never really paid attention.
She pulled up and checked her phone for messages.
“Can I fill you up?”
Rachel turned to see a man’s crotch staring at her. “Uhhh.”
The man leaned over and smiled. “You are in the full service lane. What would you like? Regular or supreme?”
Rachel’s mind went into overdrive. Her frisky side said,
I want the supreme fill up with the big pump
. Her conservative side said
I’d have the regular
.
“Umm, just fill me up. I mean fill the car up with regular. I’m going to grab a coffee.”
She climbed out of the car and stood next to the man. She grinned when she saw the name on his shirt. “Tyler, interesting.”
Rachel did the quick once over. Tall… dark… handsome, check, check, check.
The scent of alpha male filled her nose when he brushed against her. There didn’t seem to be anything but muscle on this guy. His was hair dark brown, square edge jaw and all man.
Why couldn’t she ever end up with beefcake like this? These are the guys in those books she was reading and talking about at work. She always ends up with the guy that is good looking but boring. The guy that is more interested in the bottom line of his status at work than her bottom.
As she got her coffee she stared out the window as she waited to pay. She watched Tyler walking around her car and cleaning the windows and all the other little things he did to the car.
“Dayum that man really looks good in that uniform. I bet he’s hung like a… Oh shit, did I say that out loud?”
The clerk smiled and handed her back the change. “Yes you did and from what I have heard, yes he is.” The older woman winked at Rachel and went back to helping other customers.
She walked back to her car and pulled her hair to one side and let the wind catch it. This was showing the product before selling it. She was attractive and knew exactly what she was doing and it didn’t go unnoticed.
Someone in the car shop whistled and it made her smile wickedly. She still had it.
“Will that be all?” Tyler had a smirk across his mouth as he opened up her door.
Fuck it
, “Actually no. This is a full service station right?”
“Basically, yes.”
“The little red light for the oil is flashing. Can you take a look at it?”
“Sure, pull the car over there.” Tyler pointed toward the roll-up doors beside the shop.
She watched as he walked away. “Hmmm, nice ass.”
“Thanks.”
“Oh shit, I have to quit repeating what my mind is saying. I am so sorry.” She felt her cheeks blush from embarrassment.
She pulled up beside the roll up door and stopped where he directed her.
Tyler yelled her way and motioned his hand. “OK, pop the hood.”
The little vixen in her warmed up and she pulled her hopeless woman card. “I don’t know how. Can you show me?”
Tyler opened her door and reached down beside her leg to the hood latch lever. “Umm, it’s right here.”
Rachel saw how he noticed her legs that she was very proud of and took care of with walking everywhere and shaving to wear dresses and show them off. She had also hiked her skirt up a little when he walked up.
He walked away and cleared his throat. She tried to see him working on her car and could only see half of him bent over and under the hood. She felt warmth between her legs and had ideas of him checking under her hood.
“Okay, your oil was a little low. I filled it up.” He was wiping his hands on an old rag and smiling at her. “No charge, just keep an eye on it.”
“Thank you Tyler, I appreciate it.”
He kept smiling as he stared at her. He kept looking into her eyes. Those brown eyes made her melt. And they made her so fucking wet. She was having a bad case of lust right now.
“Is there anything else I can do for you?”
(
Available now at Amazon.com and other eBook vendors
)
It’s Alive
S.L. Carpenter
(Warning: This is an erotic horror story with a lot of funny bits tucked alongside the gory bits. You might want to fasten your seatbelt…)
Mary worked at the morgue adjacent to the county hospital. She was usually assigned the majority of the cases because her team was so precise and efficient. She had assembled them over time and Rob, the system manager, trusted her to run things—and still took all the credit.
Typical management asshole.
Mary was still a little sore from the celery stick and feather orgasm. But overall she was in a good mood. That was good because the next few days were a blur. She was so busy at work with meetings and going over budgets. She hated all the bullshit things she had to do, and just wanted to work and dig into her job.
Finally it was her last shift of the week. She walked into the lab and slipped, almost face-planting on a slick pool of blood on the floor. Club dance music echoed through the room and she heard a loud laughing sound that was like the mating call for squirrels and dolphins.
Inga was jumping rope.
The only problem was—she didn’t have rope. She was using the small intestines of the woman lying open on the table, a case from the night before. It was pretty gross for anyone except Inga. Mary knew she must be bored.
“Hey Inga,” Mary tossed her purse on the counter by the lockers.
Inga stopped jumping. “Don’t worry, all the tests were done. I was just waiting for you to get here. Figured you were going to be a little late. Saw your post on Facebook about dragging a little and in need of the three “C’s”.”
“You know what the three “C’s” are?”
“I may be gay but there was a time when I used to like
coffee
,
croissants
and a thick
cock
in the morning.” Inga started jumping rope again.
“Um, are you done with the autopsy on this one?”
“I was done a while ago. Just needed some exercise. She died of natural causes. Paperwork’s done and filed.”
Inga Skøtwyvøssendotter was Mary’s best female friend. She was actually her
only
female friend.
Inga was a brilliant surgeon but her height issue had always worked against her.
She was so short that she had difficulty reaching all the proper surgical tools to do her job without some kind of stepladder. It was a deal breaker in operating rooms. She had tried working in various hospitals only to finally realize she was better at forensic science, and her meticulous nature enjoyed the investigative part of the job.
It also made it easier for her to work at her own pace, because most surgeons she had known tended to be egomaniacs and would blackball her skills. Especially after she told them their diagnosis was wrong and hers was right. Then there was the “elbowing a few of them in the balls while they were scrubbing up” thing, which had caused some other issues—mainly an upswing in testicular surgery—and Inga had at last decided to go into forensics.
She was a black haired Scandinavian with a slight accent, and stood all of four feet tall. She was a confirmed lesbian and had permanent ankle cuffs along with a large tattoo on her lower back that read “Enter at your own risk”.
She had a serious loving crush on Mary and followed her to the hospital after they graduated from medical school. Mary needed an assistant and knew Inga would be perfect because of her special gift for internal medicine and forensic science.
They had shared a few sexual escapades in college because most of the guys weren’t always what Mary needed. Sure, it was a little selfish to use Inga’s expertise in going down on women. But she was so fucking good at it that Mary let her go down on her those few times when she was in desperate need of a good, deep, toe curling orgasm.
So after a recommendation to the Medical Board (and three blow-jobs), Inga had been hired even though she’d arrived for her interview on a moped, dressed in a T-shirt that had “
Pussy, the other white meat
” on it, above a pair of mini shorts.
Mary finished her last autopsy on a man who had a massive heart attack during sex with a prostitute. The handcuff marks were still on his wrists because they couldn’t find the key immediately, and the look on his face—his lips puckered and his eyes crossed—made her snicker.
“Look Inga? Remind you of anyone?”
Inga stood on her tiptoes and smiled. “Yeah, looks like Professor Ryan when he caught me going down on his wife on that big wooden desk in his office.”
(Now available at Amazon.com—and at other eBook vendors for the four people left on the face of the planet who have something other than a Kindle.)