"I'm talking about you," to the hairy Italian man.
From Create Your Own Story
The hairy delivery man grins, and the gray haired men shakes his head a little, but doesn't seem too put out.
"Private, eh?" the Italian asks you. "You got a delivery man fantasy?"
You blush, which makes him laugh.
"We get that all the time," he says, though he certainly doesn't seem to mind. "My truck is out front," he says. He steps right up to you, his face close to yours, looking down at you. "Follow me."
You follow, leaving the gray haired delivery man behind with a little wave. He waves back, amused.
The two of you walk through the main bar to the front door, passing by the bear at the table, who gives you a rueful smile, and the daddy bear in the hallway, who stares at you with an intensity that makes you shiver. You reach the bouncer, who seems surprised to see you so soon.
"Leaving so soon, birthday boy?" he says, with a wicked smile. You blush.
"It's your birthday?" the hairy delivery man asks you.
"Yeah." You nod, feeling your face heat up even more.
"Well come on, birthday boy," the Italian puts a firm hand on your shoulder, and leads you out the door of the bar, into the parking lot. "Time to get to your party."
He walks you to the far edge of the parking lot where, sure enough, two brown delivery vans are parked. The Italian unlocks the driver's side door of the furthest van, and you notice there's no passenger seat. But there's a narrow opening into the rear of the van. He climbs into the van, and steps to where the passenger side seat would be, gesturing.
"Come on in," he says.
You climb up into the van, and the Italian points to the opening. You step through, finding the back end of the van is lined with shelves on one side, pretty much empty now, except for some hanging clipboards and a digital reader device of some sort, and some unfolded cardboard boxes that line the floor of the van.
He closes the door. You turn at the sound, and see that the hairy delivery man is standing in the opening that leads to the back of the truck, his elbow leaning on the edge of a shelf. He moves his arm, and steps through into the back of the truck. It's not exactly spacious in the back, but the two of you can stand up easily enough. He presses into you, and sly smile on his face. You can smell the musk of his hard day's work.
"So," the Italian says, with a crooked grin. "What can brown do for you?"
You say...
