Late Night Inventory

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Jenna blushed when she read the shift schedule. She’d worked with Ray for years. Lifting boxes, driving lifts, ripping tape, dusting shelves. The life of the night crew at the warehouse was quiet and simple, catching up on any leftover work the day crew left behind.  Most of the year the day crew would fall behind consistently. But as autumn came and orders slowed down through December, the day crew would catch up and the night crew shifted into maintenance mode. Staffing was reduced to just two people per night. Tonight, she reconfirmed and blushed again, her shift mate was going to be Ray. It wasn’t a glamorous job. Cleaning and inventory was the name of the game while conversation passed the time. Lipstick was excessive, but with Ray the extra effort kept their banter charged at a level that kept working together more interesting. She chose the pinkest red lipstick she owned and clocked mecidiyeköy escort in.“So how many do you guess?” He tapped a box on the bottom shelf. “Six at least. Maybe ten,” Jenna guessed blindly. She didn’t even know what was supposed to be in the box. He scanned the item with the barcode reader. It beeped and displayed a number on the back. “Nope. 12. You failed.”She uncapped the marker. “12 what?” “12 less fucks I give about inventory.” She laughed. He took the marker and wrote as big as he could: MINUS 12 FUCKS. He capped the marker and handed it back.“I hate inventory.”“And it hates you,” she remarked. She tucked the marker into her shirt pocket over her left tit. He smiled at her from up on the ladder.“That’s the best place for that, you know,” he commented.”Always,” she said with a grin. “And it’s true every time. How many do we have left?”“Tits?”“Shelves.”She şişli escort flipped the page over on the clipboard. “6 shelves plus the wire spindles.”“Again?”“Yes. That’s what ‘annual’ means. It repeats every year.”He sighed. “I vote wires next. They’re faster than these damn boxes. But first I need a jiggle.””Already?”“It’s been a long day and I need a pick-me-up. The only way I’m coming down from this ladder is if you give me a jiggle. We’re the only two here, what the hell else is there to do?”“Besides our jobs?”He pointed to the box they just counted. MINUS 12 FUCKS. “Okay, one jiggle.” She took a step back, gave a joking curtsy and shimmied her shoulders. Her tits jiggled. “Better?”“It needs work.” He climbed down the ladder. “Has anyone else seen the jiggle?”“Nobody else asks. Wires now?”“Hang on,” he insisted, pulling her gently back by one arm. “If you’re ever gonna show somebody else the jiggle, it’s gotta be good.” She soaked in his touch like a sponge. They’d been flirting since they met, but it was silly stuff. Little remarks here, sly hand touches here and there. Once he’d accidentally brushed up against her boob, and she let him. But only last week had she started ‘the jiggle’. Friday had been a particularly boring night of counting bolts and washers. Just to be silly, she’d surprised him around the corner and jiggled her tits as her shift ended and his began. Catching him off guard was half the fun. She smiled remembering how he’d stared speechlessly after her as she waved and signed off for the night. Every night since she’d repeated the ritual to the point Ray got excited to turn the corner during a shift change.  But rarely did he touch her. She felt acutely aware of his gentle grasp on her arm as he posed her in front of him. “When you jiggle,” he explained jokingly, “you’ve gotta make it count. Like this.” He demonstrated, exaggerating the shifting of his shoulders until she laughed. “Your turn.”

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