I woke up the next day refreshed. The events of the previous night seemed strangely far away and nothing to do with my real life. I went out shopping that day and bought way too many clothes. When I got back my parents gave me a knowing look.
"Feels good spending money that you've earned, doesn't it?" Dad said smugly.
"It does." I answered. I smiled wondering what my Dad would say if he knew exactly what I had done to earn that money!
Monday came and school started another week. I didn't tell any of my friends about the job, I wanted to keep it a secret. The week went quickly and suddenly Thursday was here and I had to go back to the takeaway. Up in my room I grabbed the modest black trousers I'd worn the previous Saturday. Then, a weird thought struck me, if Mustafa was prepared to pay me more for not complaining when he brushed past me imagine what he'd pay if I dressed up a little?
I reached across and took out one of my old school skirts. It was a black pleated skirt which I'd grown out of - not because it was too tight but because as my legs had grown it had become too short. I then took out a white v-necked tee-shirt which I kept for knocking about the house, it was tight and I knew it made my teenaged perky breasts really stand out. I put on the skirt and tee-shirt and then put on a baggy jumper and went down stairs.
My Dad was waiting to take me to work when I got downstairs.
"That's a bit short, isn't it?" He said looking at my skirt.
"It's ok," I replied, "Besides it's an old one and its better I get this messed up with oil than my decent trousers."
I knew this would appeal to his money saving side. After a second he shrugged and we went out to the car.
After he dropped me off at the takeaway I quickly took off the jumper. Mustafa was waiting when I opened the door - I think he might have been worried I wasn't coming back. The smile that cracked his fat, unshaven, face told me he was pleased to see me and very pleased to see what I was wearing.
That evening Mustafa didn't wait long before making excuses to shuffle past me, each time grabbing my hips and pulling me close to him. I could now distinctly feel the hard shape of his penis against my bottom and legs as he held me close. He didn't restrict himself to my bottom either - he used any excuse to reach across in front of me, each time his hand 'accidently' brushing my breasts. And each time he touched me I could hear his breathing quicken and saw his face break out into a sweat. I felt kind of powerful knowing my young body could do that to a grown man and I knew from the heat between my legs that I was getting turned on too.
