Kinky Tales from the Convenience Store - Part 1

If you follow the I-80 West out of Lincoln, Nebraska you'll eventually come to a Shell gas station and a convenience store named Chubby's (no, I don't know why it's named that and it's definitely not part of a chain of stores). The station and store are open 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, 364 days a year (closed on Christmas). I spend roughly 40 hours a week at Chubby's, and it's a sad indictment on my life that those 40 hours are unquestionably the highlight of each week.

My name is Carl. I'm 21 years old and I've worked the overnight shift at Chubby's for nearly three years. I make $16.50/hour, and that's after two raises. This wasn't supposed to be my vocation. I didn't really have plans, of course. My mom wanted me to go to a trade school of some sort (plumbing, air conditioner repair, that sort of thing) but when I looked at the course catalog I couldn't pick one, so I just set the catalog aside. That choice didn't sit well with my mom, which is why she kicked me out of the house on my 18th birthday. I got a crappy studio apartment outside of Lincoln and I've been there ever since.

There are always two employees at Chubby's. Even for the overnight shift. When I first started I worked with - and was trained by - a guy named Antonio. He was in his 40s. Grizzled as fuck. All kinds of tattoos. Drank on the job. The kind of guy you'd see and think it made perfect sense that he was working overnight at a convenience store in his 40s. I mean, what the fuck else is a guy like that going to do for a living?

Six months into the job, Antonio was hauled off by ICE agents. Turns out he'd jumped the border a decade prior and they'd finally caught up to him. He seemed resigned to his fate as they cuffed him and dragged him away. It seemed awfully dramatic to me. They had three agents come in. One of them pulled a gun. The big guy that cuffed Antonio was way rougher than he needed to be.

That's all beside the point, though. Sorry about that. All you really need to know is that my job got better once Antonio was hauled away, so I couldn’t manage to hold onto a whole lot of empathy for him.

Antonio was replaced by Amber. Raven-haired Amber. Wild-eyed Amber. Chaotic Amber. In other words, a walking wet dream for a guy like me.

Before we talk too much about Amber, I should tell you that I'm not a virgin. I made my way around the bases in high school. I'm a little embarrassed to admit that I didn't make it all the way home until after I'd graduated and I suppose I'm a little more embarrassed to admit that I've only been to home plate - that's having sex, for those of you that are unfamiliar with the bases - just a handful of times in my life.

At the time of Amber's employment at Chubby's, I did not have a girlfriend. I'd not had a girlfriend in nearly a year by that point, in fact. I figured I'd have an easier time getting laid once I moved out of my mom's house, but it turns out that an aimless guy working the overnight shift at a gas station convenience store does not light a fire in the loins of most ladies.

All of that is to explain why Amber was a walking wet dream. She was pretty, of course - maybe even beautiful - but it seemed like she wasn't all that keen on embracing her good looks. She never did much in the way of makeup. Her hair was always a bit messy. Her clothes seemed ill-fitting and were often tattered and she almost never smiled, though not because she was unhappy. I got the feeling that she didn't really care for the way men looked at her when she smiled. It was the wild-eyed, chaotic part that made her so enchanting, though.

After six months on the job I was deemed experienced enough to train Amber. Thankfully, it's a really easy job. Like, dead easy. You make sure the coffee is brewed. You make sure the shelves are stocked. You clean up after idiot customers that come in and spill shit or move the merchandise around. If there's a problem with a gas pump, you call somebody else to deal with it because that shit's dangerous.

Cleaning the bathrooms is the only part of the job that's routinely awful, especially on the overnight shift. I'll never be able to wrap my head around the fact that some people miss the fucking bowl. I mean, how do you do that? We try our best to pass off the bathroom cleaning to the morning shift, of course, but it doesn't always work out that way.

Dealing with drunks, idiots, and the occasional would-be stick-up artist is the only other significant downside to the job. With the drunks the real hassle is cleaning up their messes. I'm talking vomit, spit, and sometimes piss. Plus they tend to spill shit. Idiots come in all shapes and sizes so their difficulties can't really be predicted, though they're most likely the ones to try and shoplift. We're not supposed to stop them, but sometimes it's fun to try and catch a shoplifter before they get out of the store and if I'm in the mood to run it can be exciting to see if I can catch one before he gets to his car (it's always a guy). I once watched a shoplifter fall flat on his face and fuck it up to high heaven. He was spewing blood from his mouth and nose as he got up and got into the car. His getaway driver looked freaked out and I thought maybe I'd have to deal with the police coming by, but they drove away with the bag of Cheetos he’d stolen and I had a good laugh about the whole thing before realizing I had to clean the blood from the concrete.

Oh, there’s also the robbers (I can’t think of a better word for them). Yeah, once or twice a year someone comes into the store and holds us up. The stated policy is to give up the money and call the police. It's scary as hell to have a gun pointed at you, but it's over quick and nobody's ever tried to get violent. They just take their money and run. They always get caught, too, on account of the many cameras both inside and outside the store.

Okay, now, back to Amber. I don't know how old she is, but sometimes she drinks on the job and has done so from the start, so I assume she was at least 21 when she began her employment. At first I thought I wasn't going to like her. She seemed cold as I was training her. Like, she barely said anything. She never smiled, like I mentioned, and I did try and make her smile with some stupid jokes.

We warmed up to each other over time, though. You kind of have to. The job is pretty boring as we don't get a lot of customers, so if you're just sitting around in silence all night you run the risk of losing your mind for $16.50/hr.

It was a month into Amber's employment that I had my first success in trying to start a remotely personal conversation with her. "So, I know I've asked this before, but I'm going to try again because, well, it's pretty fucking boring here and we need something to talk about."

She was busy affixing prices to boxes of Mac and Cheese while I was stocking the shelves with the latest in fried potato offerings from the Lays brand. She offered no more than a glance my way, which was par for the course.

"So, did you grow up in Nebraska, or did you make your way to our glorious state from another locale?" I asked. For the record, I did think I was a pretty clever conversationalist. You're welcome to disagree. Amber certainly did so on a great many occasions.

"Tennessee," she said.

"Sorry? What?"

"I was born and raised in Tennessee." There was a little bit of an accent, though not as significant as you might expect.

"Well, okay, now we're getting somewhere. What brought you to this part of the country?"

She took a deep breath like she couldn't have been more annoyed with me. "The shitty little house we lived in burnt down. We had no insurance and my dad had lost his job just a few weeks earlier. We moved into a Motel 6 while they tried to figure things out. My dad's solution was to leave without saying a damn thing. My mom packed us up - just me and her - and drove us to Omaha because she'd found a Facebook page for some farm commune that was looking for people to come work the land. They took us in. My mom fell for one of the guys on the commune and is shacked up with him now. I left when one of the leaders got a little too handsy with me. My mom didn't put up much of a fight when I left. I was 17, though, so I could fend for myself."

Yeah, so, there's some darkness there. I mean, you don't end up working the overnight shift at Chubby's if you grew up in a nice suburb with two parents, a six figure income, and plenty of happy memories.

Amber didn't ask, but I shared my story, which was really just a tale of poverty. Dad left when I was young. Mom couldn't manage more than a minimum wage job. She did her absolute best, but her best wasn't exceptional and that's just fine.

"So we both have asshole dads," Amber said after I'd finished.

"We do indeed," I replied with a smile.

She then cracked her very first smile in a month. I felt something when I saw that smile. Mostly I wanted to make her smile over and over and over again. That would prove quite difficult, of course.

Over the course of the next few months we grew closer. I'd venture to say that we became friends. We developed a little game where we'd bet on what the customers were coming in to buy. Snacks, beer, liquor, that sort of thing. I had an advantage in that game since you develop a good sense for those things when you work at a convenience store, but Amber got good real quick. We didn't bet money - neither of us had much to speak of - but we'd tally our correct guesses over the course of the shift and the loser would have to do the bathroom clean up. It made our shifts a little more interesting and that's always a good thing.

One night, about three months after Amber had joined the staff, our relationship took an unexpected turn. Three girls came in around 2 a.m. They struck me as sorority girls. I guessed they were coming in to buy liquor. Amber guessed water and snacks. Amber was right.

The girls paid separately and each offered a bright, carefree smile of the sort that only exceptionally beautiful women seem to be able to offer. They walked out and I'm not embarrassed to admit that I watched them go. I mean, why not, right?

"How long has it been?" Amber asked.

"What?"

She laughed. Three months in, we occasionally laughed at each other. "How long has it been since you got laid?"

She had my attention and my head whipped towards her. "That's a personal question."

Amber nodded. "It certainly is, but I only ask because you were staring at those sorority girls like a starving man that's just gotten his hands around a juicy hamburger."

I felt compelled to answer. "Okay, well, it's been a while."

"How long is a while?"

"Six months."

For a moment she looked genuinely empathetic, which felt surprisingly good. "Any other luck in that time? You know, handjob? Blowjob? Or have you learned to spend quality time with your hand?"

I was pretty sure she wasn't mocking me, but it was hard to tell with Amber. "Just me and my hand, unfortunately. Working here isn't exactly conducive to a love life, you know?"

"You sure?"

There was a glint in her eye and for some reason my pulse quickened a bit. "Wait...when was the last time you got laid?"

She smiled. I couldn't believe it. A genuine smile. "Two days ago."

"No fucking way."

She nodded. "So you're saying it's been six months since you did anything with a girl. Is that right?"

I nodded and felt a little embarrassed as I realized that I hadn't actually tried in six months. Like, not at all.

"No kissing?"

I shook my head.

"You haven't even seen a titty?"

I laughed. "There's been nary a titty in my field of vision, unfortunately. Unless you count what I see on my phone."

"That does not count, unfortunately."

"Well, shit."

She sized me up, her eyes roaming over my body in a manner that made me a little uncomfortable. "Be honest," she began, "did you think about fucking one of those sorority girls? Not that it was at all realistic to think that you could...but did you entertain the idea? Did you imagine what it would have been like to go to the blonde's car, to lay her on her back seat, to pound her pussy?"

Amber had never - and I mean never - talked like that in the three months I'd worked with her. What was even more interesting, though, is that she was lit up while talking about it. I found myself a little confused by her seeming excitement, though it might have been that we'd suddenly gotten quite personal.

I answered honestly, though. "Yes. I thought about it for a moment. Not the part about the back seat and the pounding, but I did briefly consider what it might be like to have sex with a girl like that."

"A girl like that?"

"Yeah. A sort of...well, that perfectly pretty kind of girl. The sort that makes it to magazine covers. The unattainable sort. I don't know. That kind of girl. I've never been with a girl like that. Girls like that don't want to fuck guys that work dead end jobs."

"That's true."

It hurt, but that wasn't her fault. It hurt because it was a stark reminder that I worked a dead end job, that I had a dead end life. That's not something you want to be reminded of, even if every second of your life is a reminder of it.

"Do you want to see my titties?" she asked.

My eyes must have bugged out of my head because she laughed.

"What?"

"They're nice."

"I'm sure they are."

"So, do you want to see them?"

Of course I wanted to see them. What 18 year old guy (I'm 21, but I was 18 at the time this occurred) doesn't want to see every single pair of titties he comes across in a given day. It felt weird to say it, though. It seemed like it would suddenly feel quite weird between Amber and me if she showed me her tits.

"Yes, but also no," I answered.

"Explain."

"Of course I want to see your tits. You're beautiful and I'm sure they are too. But, we work together and I feel like it might get pretty weird between us if we cross this boundary."

"Is that because you'd want to do more than just see my titties? Like, once you've seen them, do you think you'd want to see them again, or maybe suck on them, or maybe slide your dick between them, or maybe cum all over them?"

I'm not sure what had changed, but it felt like I was talking to a different version of the girl I'd spent the past three months working with.

"I'm confused," I said, which was the most straightforward, honest thing I'd said all night.

Amber smiled again. Two in one night. It was incredible. "Yeah, that makes sense. Sorry. I can be a little...weird, I guess. Sometimes it just comes out, you know. I think the fact that I got laid recently is part of me being weird and chaotic right now. The sex was good and it was the first time in a few months that I've gotten dick, so I think it just woke me up a little, you know?"

"Yes, absolutely. Sex is pretty magical in that way."

"Yeah, it is. Or it can be. It can be a fucking nightmare, too, but this wasn't that. This was good. Really good. Multiple times, too."

I wanted to know more, though that was mostly because I was suddenly feel quite horny. Amber talking about cumming on her tits had undoubtedly contributed to that.

"What made it good?"

Her face was completely still and utterly unreadable as she stared at me. It was a little freaky, to be honest. "He's cheating on his wife," she said. "He's older, too. 30, maybe 35. They live in my building. We've been flirting a little when we see each other. It finally culminated in us fucking while she was at work. I was doing laundry. He was doing laundry. We flirted. I then took my shirt off and tossed it into the washing machine. My shorts followed and then I was standing in the laundry room in my underwear. He correctly read that as an invitation and kissed me. It was hot as hell. We went back to my place. He fucked me hard. We went back to the laundry room to put our loads into the dryers and then went back to my place and fucked again."

By that point I was really horny as I imagined having sex with Amber, at being the guy in that situation. I didn't do it on purpose. It just happened. I was 18. I didn't have control over that shit.

"Are you hard?"

I looked down and immediately covered my crotch with my hands. "Sorry. And no. Not hard. Just...getting there."

Another smile emerged. It seemed that Amber could smile. She just needed to get laid to unlock the version of her that had a reason to smile.

She stepped closer. "Were you thinking about fucking me?"

I nodded. I mean, why not, right?

"Naughty Carl." She looked me up and down again and then stepped back and said, "You know what? You deserve to see me in my underwear."

"What? What are you talking about?"

She took her shirt off. She had on one of those sports bra/bra hybrids. It looked good, though. Her breasts were perky and good-sized and her stomach was flat and smooth. I could see her nipples poking through the material, which turned me on more than I would have thought.

Amber unbuttoned her jeans and pushed them to the floor. I stared. She'd seemingly invited me to do so, so I stared. The panties matched the bra. There was a brand name of some kind on them, though I couldn't tell you which one. My mind was a fog of arousal at that point.

"You're really hot," I said.

"Why thank you."

She was dressed a moment later. That was it. A quick flash of her bra and panties and nothing more.

Then it was over. We went back to work. The rest of the shift went by without mention of the sorority girls, the sex she'd had with her cheating neighbor, her bra, my boner, or anything else remotely sexual.

I'm a little embarrassed to admit that I jerked off to Amber when I got home. It was probably a mistake, but I couldn't help myself. There'd been something so sexy about her demeanor during that brief period of time that it stuck with me. I had a quick, fantastic orgasm and then told myself that I would never masturbate to her again.

Two weeks after the sorority girls and the underwear modeling - brief as it was - Amber made an unusual request. It was a little before midnight when the request occurred.

"Can you fly solo for like, 15 minutes?"

I inferred that she meant work alone and I nodded. "Sure. Why?"

She smiled. It was the first of the night, though our shift had just gotten started. I took it as a good sign. "I'm going to get laid."

"What?"

"My guy. The older one. He's stopping by. He apparently just got back from some out of town work thing and he's in the mood. His flight got in early so he's got an hour until his wife thinks he's supposed to be back."

"So he's coming here to fuck you?" I asked.

Amber nodded and bit her lower lip in an excited fashion. She liked this guy. Or the sex, I guess. Probably the sex. Or maybe just the fact that he was cheating with her.

"Where are you going to do it?"

Her face went blank. "Well, shit, I hadn't thought about that. His car, I guess."

"You could use the break room."

It wasn't a break room. It was a little office in the back. You could lock the door, though, and if you were fucking in there the customers probably wouldn't be able to hear. I wouldn't know. I'd never fucked in there.

She smiled. The second of the night. "Carl! You genius! Yes, we will fuck in the break room. As long as you're okay with it, I mean."

"Yes, I'm okay with it."

"You're not going to be jealous?"

She was being playful. I could do that too. "Yes, I'm absolutely going to be jealous. As you know, it's now been more than six month since my hands have touched a woman in any meaningful way. I will be seething with jealousy the entire time you're in the back room with the cheater, but I will not let it ruin my night."

Amber laughed. That was even rarer than a smile. Then, to my complete surprise, she lifted her shirt, took my hand, and placed it on her breast. My palm rested against her bra - the same style as the one I'd seen - but my fingers rested against her soft, warm flesh.

"You can squeeze," she said.

So I did. I squeezed her breast. It was wondrous. Truly wondrous. The most wondrous thing I'd ever felt. I mean, I'd felt breasts before, but in that moment it was absolutely the most wondrous thing my hand had ever touched.

Then it was over. Amber stepped back and lowered her shirt.

"Thank you," I said. "That was very kind of you."

I was trying to be earnest, but it came out silly. Of course it did. Amber laughed again, then she surprised me again by kissing me on the cheek. "Thank you for covering for me."

"While you get fucked."

"While I get fucked!"

She spun around, raised her hands over her head like she was celebrating a World Cup goal, and walked away. As it turned out, she was going to the break room to clean up a little.

Fifteen minutes later, a nervous-looking guy in a t-shirt and jeans walked through the door. He looked at me and I looked at him. He opened his mouth to say something but then Amber showed up.

"Right this way," she said.

The guy nodded at me and followed Amber through our little convenience store and into the back area.

As it turned out, the walls were not thick enough to block out the sounds of sex. I heard it from behind the register. Then I walked closer. I probably shouldn't have, but I did. Amber's moaning was beautiful. Primal, really. The guy grunted a little bit here and there, but it was mostly Amber.

At one point a car pulled up to the pumps and I got nervous that I'd have to shush them so Amber didn't get busted for fucking on the job. He paid at the pump, though, and pulled away.

I kept listening. They fucked for ten minutes or so. It was insanely hot the entire time. I'm not ashamed to say that I got a boner. A good one, too. Rock fucking hard.

"Cum for me, baby!" I heard Amber scream at one point. A whole lot of grunting and groaning followed. I walked away at that point as I didn't want them to step out and see me standing there with a boner.

Five minutes later, they emerged from the break room while a customer hoisted a case of beer onto the counter. He was remarkably sweaty and the smell emanating from him was not especially enjoyable. I resisted the urge to lean back, though being a little rude towards customers during the overnight shift was hardly the worst crime I could have committed.

"Have a good night, sir," I said.

He grunted at me, wiped the sweat from his brow - mostly just transferring it to his forearm - and hoisted the case of beer from the counter and walked out.

Amber and the older guy looked thoroughly rumpled in the way I imagined people do after a quick fuck. Her hair was especially messy, which made me wonder if he liked grabbing her hair as they fucked. Then I found myself wondering what that would be like. Was it fun to grab a fistful of hair while having sex with a woman? I imagined myself doing it with Amber. I wasn't sure I would have enjoyed that. I was thinking about having sex with her, though, and that brought my boner back to life, so I pushed those thoughts far away as I watched Amber step into the guy's arms and share a remarkably tongue-forward kiss with him. The boner remained.

The guy left and Amber turned to me and smiled. This was a different smile, though. This was a giddy smile. This was pure joy. This was how someone looked after they'd had good sex.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

"Yeah. Why?"

"I don't know...the look on your face. It's...weird."

"I could hear you," I explained. "The walls are thinner than I thought they'd be. This is the first time they've really been tested for sound dampening, though, so there was really no way of knowing."

She looked embarrassed, but it faded quickly.

"Well, I apologize."

"Oh, it wasn't bad. It was good." Now I was embarrassed.

My comment brought out another smile. "Oh yeah? You liked listening?"

You wouldn't believe how hard my heart was suddenly pounding. I felt a little lightheaded as Amber stared at me with a slight smile on her face. I nodded. I mean, I had enjoyed listening.

"Well, you did say it's been a long time since you got any."

"That's true."

"Do you have any questions?" she asked.

I glanced at her hair. I wanted to know, so I asked. "Does he...does he pull your hair? Is that why it's messy like that?"

She ran her fingers through her hair, seemingly attempting to tame the messiness. "He does. Not the whole time. Sometimes, though, when he's fucking me really hard, he likes to pull my hair a bit."

"Do you like it?"

Amber took a moment to consider it and then nodded. "Mostly, I like that he likes it. Though, I do like that...I don't know, that sense of him taking more control. There's something...well, it's just kind of sexy."

She moved towards the register and I held my hands up.

"What?"

I glanced down. I shouldn't have done that. I gave it away.

"Oh...are you hard?" she asked.

"A little."

"Can you be a little hard? Is that a thing?"

"No, not really. I just...I'm sorry. I was listening and I got hard and then I watched you kiss him and I stayed hard and then...well, sometimes a boner just doesn't want to go away for a little while and it seems like I have one of those boners right now."

She stared at me for an uncomfortably long time and then said, "There's a part of me that wants to give you a handjob. You know, to help with that boner. I mean, in a way, it's my fault you're dealing with this condition. I fuck loudly, as it turns out, especially when the dick is good."

I wanted a handjob from her. At the same time, getting a handjob from her would definitely have made our working relationship a little strange. Maybe. Probably. I wasn't really sure.

"You're not saying anything."

"Yeah, I know. I'm debating the wisdom of you giving me a handjob."

"Really? I would have thought an 18 year old guy would accept a handjob from just about anyone. I mean, if some meth head walked in here and offered to stroke your dick I would have thought you'd accept."

For the record, I would not have accepted the offer a handjob from a meth head. Gross.

"How would that even work? What about the store?" I asked.

"It'll be quick. We don't get a lot of customers, so there's almost no chance we'll miss someone. We could also just lock the doors."

"So...the offer's still on the table?"

"It is."

My heart was back to pounding wildly. My dick was still quite hard, but of course it was. I was thinking about Amber jerking me off. "Then yes, I accept. And let's lock the door."

Amber headed for the door, checked to make sure there were no approaching customers, and locked us in. I came around from behind the counter and she glanced at the bulge in my jeans and smiled.

She took my hand and led me to the break room. Then, to my complete surprise, she took her top and bra off. I was two feet away from an incredible pair of breasts. I stared. Of course I stared.

"Take your cock out," she said.

"Right, yes, of course."

I lowered my jeans and underwear and shuddered when I felt Amber wrap her fingers around my cock. My legs felt weak for a moment so I leaned forward to rest my hands on the desk. That's when I saw the used condom sitting in the small plastic trash bin.

"How did he fuck you?" I asked. I shouldn't have asked it. It wasn't any of my business. The condom made me ask it. Well, not really. It didn't have magical powers. I just saw the condom and for some reason I wanted to know more about the sex between Amber and the cheating older guy.

Amber leaned forward and her gaze followed mine right down into the trash bin. I looked and saw her smile. Apparently, sex and all things sexual drew out a great many smiles from my normally stone-faced coworker.

"Well, I sucked his cock to start. I didn't have to. He'd gotten hard just from kissing me, but he likes getting his dick sucked and I wanted to show my appreciation for his willingness to come all the way out to our shitty little convenience store to fuck me."

Oddly, my reaction to that was that the guy should have been the one showing his gratitude. But what do I know?

"I put the condom on his cock and then hopped on the desk and spread my legs," she said. "He slipped inside me and we kissed as he started to fuck me. Soon enough it felt too good to kiss, though. I just had to moan. He's got a really nice cock and it reaches really deep places inside me. I honestly don't get why his wife doesn't fuck him more often. She's crazy."

I stared at the condom again. I really don't know why I couldn't tear my eyes off of it.

Amber released my cock, moved to my other side, and bent over to retrieve the condom from the bin. She set it on the desk and then pressed her body against mine and took my dick in her hand once more.

"Does it turn you on?" she asked while stroking me. "Does seeing the condom turn you on? Or is it something else?"

"Something else?"

I was surprised - and utterly delighted - to feel her lips against my neck. The kiss was quick and soft and then she whispered, "Should I put it on you while I jerk you off? Would that make the handjob feel even better? Do you want to wear the condom that was in my tight pussy?"

My dick swelled up and I moaned. I was mere moments away from an orgasm when Amber released my cock. Without saying a word she picked up the used condom and put it on me. I guess I'd answered her question.

I didn't fight her, though. I was grossed out by the idea of wearing the guy's condom, but also really turned on. It was a strange experience to say the least. Then she started stroking me again and it was pure bliss. Holy shit did it feel good.

"Amber...fuck..."

"Play with my tits, Carl," she whispered.

Amber positioned her body so I could access her tits with ease and I happily groped her. There's really nothing better than a pair of breasts. I mean, truly, there's nothing better in the world than being able to fondle, caress, and touch a pair of breasts.

I blew my load after just a few seconds of fondling and stroking with the used condom on my cock. I couldn't remember having a better orgasm. It was the sort that involved my whole body. The pleasure bounced through me, rocketing from head to toe in the most incredible fashion.

I bent all the way forward and rested my head and arms on the desk afterwards. Amber slipped the condom off my cock and tossed it in the trash. I heard her getting dressed.

"Thank you," I said as she opened the door to resume working.

"You know, Carl, it was my pleasure," she replied. "Truly. Take your time recovering."

Things got wilder from there and I can't wait to tell you all about it.