Sweet Tooth

“Have we met before?”

“Have we met before?”

“Have we met before?”

They always asked that. They thought it was clever. It wasn’t. What’s your name? Are you from around here? and some variation of What’s a pretty girl like you doing in a place like this? always came next. I smiled, sweet as syrup, and answered the stupid question for what felt like the thousandth time that night.

“I don’t think so.”

I batted my eyes at the man in front of me. He was in his mid-forties, with straw-colored hair and soft, doughy features. His skin was flushed from years of drinking alcohol, red and mottled like a ripe plum. As far as truck drivers went, he wasn’t so terrible looking. I leaned across the formica counter and sniffed softly as I refilled his coffee cup. He smelled clean enough. Like cigarettes and minty mouthwash.

“What’s your name?” He asked as he peeled the flimsy top of creamer off and poured it into his cup. I smiled.

“Beatriz.”

“I’m Roger.”

“It’s nice to meet you. Let me know if I can get you anything else.”

“Awfully late for you to be working, isn’t it?”

We both glanced at the round, analog clock that hung over the window to the kitchen. It ticked away dutifully and declared the time to be 2:08 am. The diner was empty except for the two of us. The cook was somewhere in the back, probably listening to sports on the radio and washing dishes like he usually did when it was slow.

“I’m used to working the night shift.” I said with a shrug.

“Must be tough.”

“There are perks. A little better pay, a lot more peace and quiet.”

“Must get kind of… lonely.” He said pointedly as he took a long, slow sip of his coffee. I stared at him. He returned my gaze with an even, measured stare.

“Sometimes… But I get to meet some interesting people once in a while.”

He grunted and took a bite of his scrambled eggs.

“You from ‘round here?” He asked, mouth full of eggs.

I nodded my head, even though it wasn’t true.

“Born and raised.” I chirped. They loved that answer. His eyes crawled lazily over what he could see of my body, lingering on my chest. I chose that moment to return the half-full coffee pot to the coffee maker at the other end of the counter, letting my hips swing languidly as I walked. I could feel him staring at me, his gaze burning into my back side. When I returned he was focused on his plate, projecting a stiff, overly manufactured imitation of nonchalantness. He glanced up and met my eyes like a moth drawn to a flame. I held his gaze.

“What about you?” I asked as I leaned over, propping myself up on my elbows right in front of him. He set his fork down.

“What about me?” He asked back, teasingly.

“Do you get…” I allowed my eyes to slip downward and linger on his lips for just a moment before meeting his gaze once more. “Lonely?”

He visibly swallowed and I had to stifle the urge to laugh. They were so transparent. So easy.

“I…do.” He said carefully. He looked at me and licked his lips as if he were hungry. He pushed his plate towards me — All that remained on it were a few crumbs and a film of gooey, yellow egg yolk. He had devoured it all. As I went to pick up the plate, he placed his hand over mine.

“You’re too pretty to be workin’ in a place like this.” He said, rubbing his thumb across my hand gently. I pulled away with a coy smile, dumped his dirty plate in a nearby dish bin, and returned with the check. He fished his wallet out and opened it. I watched as he rifled through a stack of papery green bills and dropped down a twenty.

“Keep the change, sweetheart.” He said, as he went to rise. I grabbed his wrist.

“Meet me at the back door in five minutes.”

The corner of his mouth twitched.

“Why don’t you come back to my cab-?”

I shook my head. I saw a flash of uncertainty cross his face. Uncertainty was bad. Uncertainty usually preceded suspicion.

“I need to stay close, in case someone comes in.” I explained. “ But we can still have some fun. Back door. Five minutes.”

I released his wrist and took the check to the register. I didn’t look back as I put the twenty dollar bill into the drawer and slipped the change into my apron pocket. I heard the bell of the front door jingle softly behind me as I slid the register shut. When I turned around, the diner was empty. I hummed to myself as I went around the counter and locked the front door. I hurried into the kitchen and found the cook spraying down dirty dishes as a loud, animated voice recounted the highlights of some recent sports game. Baseball or football maybe? They all sounded the same to me.

“I’m going to take a quick smoke break. I’ll be right back.” I told him.

“Huh?” He asked, not looking at me and continuing to spray down dishes.

“I’M GOING TO TAKE A SMOKE BREAK!” I shouted. “I’LL BE BACK!”

He shook the hose in my direction in acknowledgement before returning its spray back to a dirty frying pan. I slipped out the back door and shut it behind me. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, enjoying the brief moment of silence before-

“Beatriz?”

“I’m here.” I called back softly, opening my eyes.

Roger emerged from the shadows, sweaty and eager. He wasted no time, striding up and encasing me in his arms. He pawed at me, groping and squeezing.

“You’re so beautiful.” He murmured softly as he nuzzled his face into my neck. He murmured my name in between kisses and bites as if he was trying to consume me. I pushed him back against the brick wall. His eyes widened in surprise for a moment before melting into a lecherous smile.

“Feisty girl, hey?” He asked, his pants bulging with anticipation.

“Mmmm…” I said as I ran a hand along one of his warm, ruddy cheeks. “More like hungry.”

I unhinged my jaw and swallowed him whole. He did not scream, did not struggle. He did not even know it was happening. He was just there one moment and then gone the next. I patted my bulging stomach contentedly and burped. It smelled like cigarettes and mouthwash.

I walked back into the kitchen, past the cook still washing dishes, and unlocked the front door. I resumed my place behind the front counter, picked up a mostly clean rag, and started wiping things down in slow, easy circles. It was not long before the bells on the front door jingled softly once more. A heavy-set man with hairy arms and dark, greasy hair entered and took a seat at the counter. He gave me a cocky smile and waved away the menu I tried to hand him.

“I’ll have a cheeseburger, medium rare. What’s your name, beautiful?”

“Amber.”

“Have we met before, Amber?” He asked. His dark, beady eyes glittered as if he’d just told a joke.

“I don’t think so.” I said, shaking my head.

“Well, Amber…” He said, running a thick, meaty hand through his hair. “I’ve got a bit of a sweet tooth. What do you say I buy you a piece of pie after I finish my cheeseburger and we see where the night goes?”

I tapped my chin uncertainly, considering his offer. Then I locked eyes with him and smiled, sweet as syrup.

“I kinda ate already but…I am still a little hungry.”