He'd knocked on the door twice, rang the bell once and was just about to turn away when he noticed a white sneaker with an ankle attached to it poking out from behind a counter. Tim peeked through the curtain, noticed the sneaker wiggle and knocked on the door again. The sneaker wiggled back and forth as if inviting Tim in for a casual conversation. Again he knocked and again the foot waved. He turned the door knob and the door opened.
"Excuse me," Tim said as he stepped through the door. He was breaking every rule in the pizza delivery boy handbook, but his gut told him something was wrong with the customer who had placed the order. He walked toward the sneaker and the ankle, then found the ankle attached to a long leg, which was attached to a woman who looked semi-unconscious.
"Hey, you okay?" he asked, as he set the pizza on the counter top and squatted down to talk to the woman.
The sound of a man's voice seemed to be coming from a thick fog. Hazel tried to open her eyes, but she found it took more effort than she was willing to give. She chose instead to grunt, a noise in her opinion meant, "Yeah, I'm cool. Who are you?"
Tim frowned. He leaned in and grabbed the woman's shoulders. He shook her gently and again repeated his earlier question.
The ground beneath Hazel's ass was trembling. She pushed away at the impenetrable force that was holding her down. The force relaxed and the world stopped turning. She opened her eyes and stared into the face of a stranger. "Who are you?" she asked.
Tim shrank back slightly as the smell of alcohol washed over him. He took a deep breath and considered his responsibility toward the drunk. He could leave her where she was and with his luck she'd die of alcohol poisoning, or he could call an ambulance or the cops and then she'd come back the next day all sobered up and bitch his employer out and press charges for entering her home without his permission. In truth he didn't like any of his options and everything in him told him to park his ass down on the floor and make sure she was okay, so that's what he did.
He didn't call work to tell them what he was doing, after all this drop was his last one and the woman had paid over the phone with her credit card so there was no worry about him making off with any cash. Tim watched the woman drift back into unconsciousness and he pulled the pizza from the counter, placed the box on the floor, opened it up and began to dine on a cheesy supreme with jalapenos and banana peppers. "Ya got good taste," he looked at the receipt and then back at the woman, "Hazel."
Over the course of two hours Tim listened to the woman talk to herself as she woke up and fell back asleep. He monitored her breathing, making sure it wasn't too shallow and he finished off half her pizza as well as some soda he'd found in the fridge. By the time the third hour of his babysitting gig was about to commence Tim felt a hand on his crotch. He shook his head, unaware that he'd fallen asleep. The pressure on his groin increased and he opened his eyes to find the woman groping his package. "Whoa now," he said, pushing her hand from his jeans.
Hazel stared at the hand that was wrapped around her wrist. She then looked up into the eyes of the man who seemed to have sat with her while her body worked through the booze she'd indulged in. When she woke up this last time she had been confused, but from the evidence that surrounded her and the vague recollection that she had about ordering pizza, she was able to put two and two together.
The young man wore a pizza delivery uniform and his name tag had "Tim" printed on it. Tim was a good looking man. He had dark hair, glasses, and a well-formed body. Maybe it was the left over booze that were skating through her veins, or the fogginess of her mind, or the fact she'd not had a good fuck in three years that made her lean over and grope the young man, but grope him she did and she was bound and determined to continue.
"Tim, I guess I didn't properly greet you when you delivered my pizza did I?" Hazel whispered as she sat up on her knees and looked across at him.
Tim was sitting on his butt. His back was pressed against the lower cabinets and his legs spread out before him. He was tired, but also sporting a hard-on. He covered his crotch and rolled his shoulders, before standing up. "It's okay. I ate some of the pizza and drank some soda. Hope that's okay."
Hazel smiled and looked up from her kneeling position. "Oh that's fine." She reached up and Tim grabbed her hands. He tried to help her stand, but she refused to budge. "I want to thank-you," she whispered, before leaning in and pressing her face to his denim-covered groin.
Tim groaned. His cock jerked forward and the denim felt more tight and constricting than usual. He took a deep breath and stepped back, then immediately regretted his decision when Hazel started to fall forward. He moved back, but this time caught her by the armpits and lifted her to her feet. "Miss, let me get you to the couch," he said. "You're still far from sober."
Hazel smiled. She could still smell the musky promising scent of his sex. Her mouth was water and her pussy slick. "I'm sober enough," she told him. "Honest. Ask me anything."
