Page 1 of Meant for Them
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Morgan
I never dreamed of becoming a topless maid, but when life gives you lemons, sometimes you need to whip off your top and clean with them.
But I get ahead of myself.
To tell you about where I ended up, I guess we should probably start where I began; a dead-end job at a gas station, because not many people will hire a half-breed wolf shifter without even a high school diploma.
Education is supposed to be the great equalizer, but that’s only if you can afford it. Truth be told, I was lucky to get the job I have at all, because it keeps a shitty roof over my head and ramen in my belly, and if that’s not living the dream, then I don’t know what is.
The biggest perk though is definitely the clientele.
Sometimes when I’m really depressed, I’ll imagine what everyone that stops inside is doing, who they are, making up entire stories for them to keep myself occupied.
My favorite customer is this whacky old lady that I’m pretty sure lives in a box a few streets over, and her teeth are disgusting, but she always comes in on Wednesdays for a cheap cup of coffee that she can refill as many times that she wants to that day. She never makes any sense, but she’s kind, so I never bother her when she hangs around during my shifts.
Then there’re the teens on their way to school, stopping in to buy a breakfast sandwich and throw a few bucks of gas in their tank, the young women smartly dressed on their way to somewhere important that fill up their tank and leave, the sleezy men that always seem to find a way to watch them, and that leaves me with my least favorite customer.
The businessmen that think if they throw a few compliments my way I’ll miraculously fall on my back and spread my legs.
Okay, so maybe the job perks actually suck, but like I said, I’m a half-breed.
In this world, wolves run the show, and they try to steer clear of humans, who have slowly removed themselves from our neighborhoods. Something about not wanting to mingle with beasts. Humans discovered we existed because an alpha’s kid way back when thought they were on to something by exposing our community to a huge group of politicians, and we all were sick of hiding in plain sight anyway. Eventually, people stopped screaming, and started ignoring us.
Which is fine because wolves and humans don’t usually mix too well.
Basically, humans kind of suck a lot of the time, though of course there are some good ones out there, but when wolves and humans decide to get it on, there’s only a 50% chance that their kid will be able to shift.
Wolves get off on making baby wolves, and a lot of human women get freaked out by having a baby born with a back full of fur.
I can shift, something my human mom always tried to ignore, but I was the result of a paid hookup.
That’s right, not only am I a half-breed, but I’m also the unwanted daughter of a sex worker. I’ve been on my own since I was more or less 13, but I’ve made it work with very little mommy issues.
Wouldn’t mind having a daddy issue or two though if you catch my drift.
Now that you’ve got my backstory, let’s set the scene. I’m cleaning up a purple spilled slushy some kid dropped mid-tantrum, getting my shoes all sticky and trying to get the old shitty mop we have to do its job, half bent over, when he walks in.
At first, I’m too caught up in my task to do much more than call a ‘hello’ when the door chime goes off, but then I do something stupid enough to get noticed. I turn too quickly with that mop bucket full of grayish purple suds, see one of the prettiest men I’ve ever seen in my life, and then eat shitbig time.
Oh, and dump the entire mop bucket over myself in the process.
I had a lot going for me that day.
I contemplated just giving up there and then, hoping if I laid still enough and stared hard enough at the foam tile ceiling that theguy would get annoyed enough to leave and go somewhere else, but even soaked with nasty water, I could feel his eyes on me.
Weird kink to have, but whatever.
“You okay?”
And then he reached out a hand to help me up, and I stared at it like he was offering me something far more sinister.
“Just peachy,” my voice scratched out.
Eventually I got myself to sitting, rubbing the back of my head where I smacked it into the linoleum, deciding to not give a shit that my white uniform shirt was now completely see through and I was wearing a cotton bra with little cows on it and a bow in the center. So he could see I was wearing a cotton bra with little cows on it. With a bow in the center.
I like to sew, and it’s honestly the best kept secret when you’re poor. Make everything yourself because you sure as hell won’t be able to afford to buy it.
