Areol
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	Rain poured down on the concrete slabs that littered across the landscape of downtown New York City, skyscrapers shimmered as speckles of light began to cloud each window. Trains rolled across their tracks, making their final stops, as shiftless crowds scurried off into their apartments. The year was 1970, as the overpass that dwarfed the rundown neighborhood blotted out the stars, Areol clutched the handle of her portable briefcase, fumbling around her jacket for the keys to her new apartment. Settling down in her new apartment, she stared into the mirror of her bathroom, running her hand down her left cheek, smudging parts of her foundation off cleanly. She pulled out her pony tail, turning her head she focused on several pre-wrapped gift parcels that sat clammered into the dim lamp in the corner. Her bed was already moved in, a neatly folded apron and red blouse laid at the foot of the bed. 'A r e O L' ran across a nametag crudely in lead.
The next day, she set off into the city. Puddles of rain left from the night before scoured the sidewalks and street curbs, clonky automobiles stuck in traffic honked their horns. Areol's job was just around the corner, a medium and archaic building that bristled with traffic from morning to evenings. Once set inside, she shyly introduced herself, until her first bathroom break, which included her squishing three 8" beef franks inbetween her thighs, stolen from the chef's freezer. Tilting her head back in a primordial fashion, as the beef franks were crushed into the toilet. She creamed, placing a dantily kept napkin ontop of the toilet for the next customer to see all of her fluids. Feeling relaxed, she went back to her shift, where her first serve would be an African American who wore a uniform reminiscent of a shipyard worker. His lips were prominent, he moved down to slurp the contents of his coffee, as he flashed a quick smile in gratitude to Areol. Unbeknownst to her, she had a single beef frank piece slide down her left thigh, which the man had noticed. Calling her back, he introduced himself. She immediately forgot his name, as his next action was to hand her a napkin, as his eyes peeled towards her left thigh. Eyes widened, she called out the man in disgust, hastily rubbing her thigh against the beef frank.
Continuing her shift, she eyed the man's every move, inbetween serving other's who noticed her lack of eye contact as she wrote down orders by ears. Areol's eyes could not be taken off of him, her mind wandered freely with thoughts of a combination of heroin being snorted off of her belly, the man rubbing his throbbing manhood of 8.5" across her pillowed asscheeks, his precum feeling like that of the warming fluids from the beef franks of earlier, his lips smacking hastily onto her---Hey.
 Areol stopped in her tracks, as the man was now infront of her, checking out. He gave her a look of disgust as he paid in grease stained cash. Making his way out, she followed his movements closely. She crammed a finger down her mouth, as she ran to the back, feigning sickness to get out of work. Pulling off her apron, she ran back to her house, grabbing a single gift parcel that stacked atop many more. She remembered him turning a left, and luckily for her he was just near the horizon of her eyesight down her straight, and longing sidewalk. Steadily pacing forward, her right arm clutched around a red, white-bowed package ran her will to find the man. Side stepping through crowds,following him for what seemed like ages until finally she followed him into an alley, immediately grabbed by him. His eyes seemed to be filled with a fiery temper, realizing his massive hands clasped onto her small, sleek shoulders. His sweaty lips seemed to smack like plums as he began to berate her for following him so far, it had seemed as if it were nearly a mile long. She slapped him across his black stupid face, as she recalled. In her mind, she was reminded of the time her girlfriends from prepatory would rile up against her, in a compelling and crude sexual manner, remembering the many nights alone grinding against a lone pillow. She was pretty, yes, but no man dared to touch her, for she had been to an all-woman prepatory. She fought back, clawed at him, until the gift package dropped. The contents of which sought a fire into her, as she confessed her undying love to the African American. She asked him if he had a tenner, he replied he could find her one. He pushed her up against the wall, unzipping his pants, his member finally was revealed.


It was a Beef Frank.