"You'll do," Marnie said to him one evening when they were working together at the Petro-Canada gas station. 

She was the cashier, he was the full-service attendant. Because of the bylaws in Coquitlam, self-service wasn't allowed. It was a quirk that always assured there was work for him in the evening if he wanted it, and he did; since he went to school during the day, it made for a good income. He worked evenings and weekends to pay for his first year of college, and it had been a pleasant enough arrangement up to now.

He was eighteen. She was thirty. 

He was a virgin, and it had only bothered him a little, because he knew why. High school wasn't very kind to him. He was shy by nature and had a hard time talking to girls. His main friends in Coquitlam had been the Reis boys, and they were hardly any better than he was at talking to the opposite sex; all three of them had attended their proms without a date. Not that there had been anyone in particular he was attracted to; Rachel still held his heart even after all these years, and Lauren, with that kiss she gave him a few years ago, had given him the mistaken impression that other girls might save him the trouble of approaching them and approach him instead. Maybe that was the trouble. He'd grown up with the two girls who loomed largest in his life, and it had been easy interacting with them. Starting from scratch, with girls he didn't know, was what was so hard.

He'd resigned himself to the fact that he wouldn't get anywhere with women if he didn't take more risks, when he found the job at the gas station and met Marnie Pruitt on the evening shift.

It hadn't started right away. At first their shifts didn't overlap much. He'd gotten the job in the summer and worked days, mainly. He only saw her as he was leaving and she was starting her shift. 

Then the autumn came around, and his change in work schedule put him in her orbit.

He couldn't put his finger on how he became attracted to her. She was older than him by more than a decade, and at his age that was a lot. She was pretty, but it was a worn prettiness; she was already divorced, and the marriage she'd left was an abusive one, verbally, not physically. He learned this from the talks they had. The constant contempt and belittling from her ex-husband had worked on her like a sand blaster; that, and her smoking, made her look ten years older than she was. She had limp, dirty blonde hair she usually let hang loose to her shoulders, which were angular and wide for a woman with such a slender frame. She was almost too thin; he saw her smoke more than he saw her eat. 

And yet, there were things about her beyond her looks that drew him to her. He found her hands especially appealing, for some reason; the way they held her cigarette, the way they hit the keys on the cash register, delicate yet strong. He loved watching them move and gesture while she talked, and he suspected she noticed. The tired smiles she gave him whenever they started their shift together warmed his heart; when she smiled, something inside her glowed, and knowing it had been him who made her smile, when her life up to that point had been a hard one, made him tender toward her. She trusted him to do his share of the duties even though he was relatively inexperienced, and he appreciated that she treated him like an adult. She never questioned his competence and always assumed he knew what he was doing, and helped him when he admitted he didn't. Mostly, though, she talked to him and opened her life to him, never sugarcoating any ugly detail. Her confiding in him, telling him he was a really good listener, made him feel ten feet tall.

Then, one evening, she told him, "You're a really good guy, Al. I know you're young, but you're not a self-absorbed prick like other guys your age. How is it you don't have a girlfriend?"

That was the start of their relationship, or whatever it was.

Sometimes the gas station was empty at night. Sometimes it would be half an hour before a customer arrived. If they needed gas, a bell hose would announce their presence. If they entered the store, a chime on the door would warn them.

He shrugged. "I'm shy. I have a hard time talking to women."

"You're talking to one now, aren't you?"

Al squirmed and said, "Yeah, but you're different, you're my coworker, we have to talk to each other."

She nodded. "Maybe it's because I'm older and you're not attracted to me, so you feel more at ease?"

Her words stunned him. "No, not at all, I..."

"What?" she asked coyly, eyebrows raised.

He cleared his throat. "I..."

"You're blushing. Oh my God, you're adorable!"

He chuckled awkwardly, wishing a car would come along and need service. He was embarrassed, because it felt like she was seeing him to his very core. It was empty in the store, and they were both behind the cash register.

"Have you ever kissed a girl, Al?" she asked.

"I have," he said, "but not for a very long time, and I don't think I was very good at it."

She placed one of those fascinating hands on his cheek. It was dry and smelled like cigarettes, but he also smelled a hint of perfume she might have dabbed on her wrists. She looked in his eyes, and he fought to hold eye contact with her, because he always had a hard time with that; he had a feeling something monumental was about to happen.

It did.

Her lips were soft, and she opened her mouth eagerly to him. He felt her breath in his mouth, felt her tongue search for his, which was new for him, but very, very good, despite her mouth tasting like an ashtray. She had experience, and she was gracing him with it.

They were roughly the same height, and he liked when she threw her arms around his neck and brought him in closer, but soon her kissing became more like devouring, and it was too much, too soon, and he broke off, feeling terrible about it but relieved, too.

She stared at him, panting, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

"Sorry," he said. "I'm still new at this."

"No, no, that was a good start," she said. "You're not bad."

Before they could say anything more, the bell rang, and he went out to fill up the car that had arrived, hoping the driver wouldn't notice his erection while he did his work.

They said no more about the kiss that night, nor did they do any more kissing, but over the next few months, they found themselves in each others arms at least once a night when it was slow. She was gentler and took more time with him, and the kisses were sweeter, more sensual, and soon he found his hands sliding down her back to the swell of her ass, and she didn't pull them away.

Then one night she said, "I just got out of a bad marriage, Al, so I'm not looking for a relationship right now, but... I still have needs, and if you're interested... you'll do."

"Okay," he said, by this time completely under her spell, grateful for the attention she'd already given him. "Are you saying you want to...?"

"Just follow my lead," she whispered in his ear, and his knees nearly buckled with lust.

That night she reached into his pants to give him a hand job, and he came almost instantly. Those appealing hands knew what they were doing. She asked him to do the same, guiding him with her own hand. This was while they were still behind the cash register in an empty store with no cars waiting. This was also in a time when there were no closed circuit cameras recording select areas of the gas station, like the pumps and the cash register, for loss prevention and security purposes. They were alone and unwatched, but being out in the open like this, with the risk of discovery, was wildly erotic, and she must have felt it too, because she panted and moaned, squeezed her legs together and jolted, emitting a high-pitched squeak as she came.

"Oh, God," she breathed, leaning into him with his hand still down her pants. "That was nice. That was just right for tonight."

Before he could agree, a car arrived at the pumps, and they both had to button up their pants. Al made sure he didn't have any wet spots in the area around his crotch before he went out.

She was content enough to do it that way for a few weeks. Al slowly got better at pleasing her manually, and when she asked him to put his fingers inside her, he discovered a whole new level of pleasure.

Then, one night, she said, "This gas station sells condoms, you know. What do you think?"

He felt his heart beating in his throat as he nodded. "But, I don't know if I'm comfortable taking the risk out here."

"Nah. Let's go in the store room. We'll get warning if someone comes."

He was aware they were leaving the store unattended, and that if anything happened and it was their fault, they could get fired. It didn't bother him that much, not when he was being given the opportunity to have sex for the first time.

It wasn't glamorous. She only took off what clothes she needed to to get the job done. She kept her socks and shoes on. "I'm not walking on this floor in bare feet," she said, mouth twisting in disgust. "Who knows what some of the graveyard shift guys get up to in here."

"Are you serious?" he asked.

"Oh, yeah, they probably jack off to the porn mags and then put them back on the shelf."

"Ew." He'd looked at those himself, and knowing others had touched them, probably leaving their own fluids on them, disgusted him, but not enough to stop what they were doing.

She surveyed his mostly naked body and nodded. "Not bad. Lie down. I'm in charge tonight."

He rested his head on the bunched up clothes and lay, shivering, on the cold linoleum floor. She unwrapped a condom, rolled it on him expertly, and promptly straddled him and slid him inside her. Wordlessly, she ground herself into him, faster, faster, and took his hands and slid them under her shirt so he could fondle her small breasts under her bra. She panted and squeaked, and he had the feeling she was holding herself back from making more noise, just in case someone entered the store and they didn't hear the chime. He stared up at her, grateful to her that she was finally taking his virginity.

It didn't take long for him to come. He'd had no experience at all in this, and he'd already been close just at the sight of her naked vagina, which he'd only known up to now by feel. Being inside her, all warm and slick, even with the condom on, he was helpless.

She didn't stop after he came. She actually rocked faster, and the intensity of it began to hurt a little, but then she came with a groan and a shudder, and lay on top of him, panting. He liked the feel of her lying on top of him, and he wrapped his arms around her and let himself feel her beating heart.

"Not bad," she said. "Not bad at all. You'll have to last a little longer next time."

"Next time?"

She looked him in the eye and said, "Oh, yeah. Now that I have a new fuck buddy, I'm not letting you go just yet."

That was just fine with him.

They didn't do it again that night. They weren't that irresponsible. Luckily no customers had interrupted their fun, but trying for another time was just too much of a risk. The next night they were together, though... she kept the package of condoms she'd bought in her purse, and all she needed to do was signal with it, and they were back in the store room. For those sessions, she was always on top, because she didn't want to be on the cold, hard floor. He didn't mind. He liked watching her rocking and pumping on top of him, and he liked that she varied her technique each time, and that he lasted a little longer each time.

Then came a night when she said, "Doing it here is getting old. I want to do it at my place. Can you come by after our shift is over?"

He had to think about this. His parents didn't know about Marnie. They had no idea what he was up to while at work, but if he went out after, he'd have to tell them, just to let them know where he was and that he was safe. He could always tell them he'd met a girl at school, and that they were going out. Why did they have to know more than that? He was an adult, now.

"Okay," he said.

It was hard being patient the whole shift as they traded glances and kissed without doing more, but it was worth it in the end, because at her apartment they could be completely naked, they could take their time and do it more than once, and this time he could be on top because they were in her warm, soft bed, and he could feel her legs wrapped around his waist at last. Sex was much more pleasurable when you were comfortable and, safe in the comfort of her own home, she let loose, making as much noise as she wanted. She also offered him more delights now that they were at her place: she taught him how to give her oral sex, and she did the same for him; they did it in her shower, and the feel of her, all wet and soapy, awakened his love of shower sex and his desire to do it that way with future partners. They savoured each other more, they could kiss and lick parts of their bodies hidden under clothes while they were at work. They could lie in each other's arms after and just relax without the threat of discovery.

He felt bad about lying to his parents about where he was. Maybe not Dad, so much; he doubted Dad cared what he did in his free time, since he didn't have much time for Al when he was younger, anyway. It was Mom he worried about; she might see the difference in age between Marnie and him and wonder why, and bemoan the fact that he couldn't date a girl his own age. Here's why, Mom, he'd tell her. She offered, that's why, and damn it, she was willing to teach me how, and she was generous with her body in the process.

Until she wasn't.

"And, cut!"

Dad and Sam entered the bedroom from the hallway, and Al drew the sheets to himself out of modesty. Marnie didn't seem concerned two strange older men were in her house with her naked under the sheets.

Sam clapped his hands slowly and said, "I have to hand it to you, Al. You bagged an older woman for your first time."

"You were watching us?!" Al squawked in terror.

"Yes." Dad grimaced and said, "I never thought I'd say this, but a man shouldn't watch his son have sex."

"I agree. But I'm not your son."

"Still. It's like watching porn where the guy is vastly outperformed by the girl, not enjoyable at all, which is a shame, because she seems like she'd be great in the sack. I have a feeling this is why she finally got tired of you."

Marnie didn't have any comment about this. She seemed to have frozen in place, her mouth half open, her eyes unblinking, but if she could talk, Al knew she'd say that, by the time the next summer rolled around, and he was back to working days, she'd started dating a man her own age and didn't have room for him anymore; she'd told him right at the beginning that she didn't want anything more from him than he was giving her now, so he shouldn't have been surprised, but it still hurt. She assured him he'd always have a place in her heart, but that now he should feel confident dating girls his own age. He didn't agree, and he was relieved his shifts didn't intersect with hers over the summer so they didn't have to interact. Eventually, by the next autumn, he had to quit the job at the gas station and find work at another retail job that offered evening work, because he couldn't face sharing a shift with her where they weren't in each other's arms anymore.

"Please tell me you didn't watch porn," Al said. "I don't think I'll be able to take it."

"Of course I did. What did you think I was doing in my office with the door locked? How else do you think I stuck around with your mother?"

"I'm not listening to this."

"Do you think I enjoyed living with the proof of her adultery all my life? I needed some kind of outlet. Your mother was good enough to look the other way, at least."

Al shook his head in incredulity. "Why did you stay with her when you found out I wasn't yours? For that matter, why did you go through with having me if I was the result of adultery?"

"Abortion wasn't widely available back then," Dad said, so glibly that Al felt a chill run down his spine. "As for your other question... she loved me, and she was willing to do anything to keep me in her life, so I stayed, and that was her punishment, because I think she would have been happier if I divorced her."

"So, that was why you were so distant. You were unhappy."

Dad shrugged. "What can I say? I enjoyed being unhappy, though. I think it made me better at my profession."

"Dad, can I ask why? Why did Mom cheat with Uncle Richard?"

"He was a warmer person than I was. I think she was desperate for warmth."

"And yet she stayed with you all those years."

"She also refused to admit she'd made the wrong decision marrying me, and anyway it was too late, because by then your Uncle Richard was married to Aunt Linda."

"Fuck," Al breathed. "Both of you were unhappy."

"She at least had you to dote on."

He groaned and put his hands over his eyes. "Can both of you just go? I can't take this anymore."

"You have to go, Al," Sam said, not unkindly. "This place isn't for you."

"Why not?" he whined. "I was happy here, in her bed, even if the relationship was fucked up, and maybe exploitative."

"Because this isn't real, and you have a very real wife and children waiting for you at the top of the well," Sam said more firmly. "You have to get yourself out and be with them."

He looked over at Marnie, who still seemed frozen in place. It reminded him that he'd seen this before, in some other episodes in his life. When were they? It was all so hazy. "Why isn't she talking?" he asked. "Why isn't she moving?"

"Haven't you been listening? She's not real. She's a memory, that's all. This whole thing, her, the room you're in, it's all a construct of your memory. You need to get out of here or you're going to be stuck here forever, and she's not going to wake up to keep you company."

Al sighed in frustration. "Okay, fine. Can I put my clothes on, first?"

"You don't need to. You're not really naked, because that's not your body. This is all in your head."

"I don't want you two looking at my junk."

"We'll leave first," Dad said. "Believe me, I don't want to see your junk either. Give it a minute and then follow behind us, out the front door."

He waited until they were gone, then reluctantly slid out of bed, still self-conscious about being naked now that they'd been interrupted. He looked back at Marnie and said, "I really did want to be with you, you know. You may have said I was too young to be in a relationship with you, but I was willing to try to make it work."

She didn't respond, still frozen in place. He thought about kissing her, but then he thought it might be like kissing a mannequin now, so he just left. He walked through the hallway to the door of her apartment, opened the door, and went through into

Darkness.

Then a crack of light, and that godawful beeping he remembered hearing before.

"Al?"

He thought he knew that voice, but he couldn't quite remember where he'd heard it before.

"Al!"

A face, blurry in the intense light. Blonde hair shining and ethereal. It hurt to look at that face for too long, but he felt like he had to hold on to it as long as he could, for some reason. For a second he thought it was Marnie again, and he'd somehow returned to her bedroom and climbed back in like he'd wanted so badly to do.

Then, "Al! It's me! It's Rachel! Look, Emma's here too! We came together today!"

Another face joined the first. More blonde hair. Now it was much too bright, like looking at the sun. He couldn't hold on any longer, and he felt himself falling backward.

And everything

Went

Black.

Thanks for reading this far! Al's getting closer to consciousness, and learning more about himself along the way. Out of all the friends, I haven't up to now shown what happened to Al post Queensborough, so these flashbacks in his coma are my way of doing that. If you liked what you read so far, hit "Vote" to send this title up the ranks. Leave a comment and let me know what you think!

To return to the present day, and an awkward conversation between Sunny and Joe, click on "Continue reading."