Lukas & The Lion

Chapter 1- The Towel Boy

"It's a little tight, Mr. Allen," I noted. The gym uniform clung to my 17 year-old frame and left little to the imagination. I didn't want to make a big deal. It was my first day on the job.

I wore a tight, red tank top with the PowerTime gym logo on the front. It showed off my pecs. They weren't much, but I'd been lifting all spring at my old high school. The shorts were more problematic. They were white and too small. They rode up my ass crack and put it on full display. I kept shifting and wanting to pick out the wedgie.

"Sorry, kid. It was Allison's and she quit on short notice. We'll order a set in your size once we see if you'll last here. You looked about her size," Mr. Allen said as he checked in a guest. He turned and smirked at me. His eyes wandered down to my ass.

I knew he was a perv yesterday when he was interviewing me, but he tried to tone it down with my dad standing there. I didn't have much of a choice. My dad worked at the car dealership next door and it was either work here or at the run-down yogurt place on the other side.

We'd just moved here, dad and me. He was a mechanic specializing in high end European cars. The place he'd worked since I was a baby was closing down, a sign of our town's declining fortunes. The owner begged him to transfer to one of his other dealerships, and Glendale was the only other one in Southern California, so off we moved.

It's torture to move when you're about to start your senior year in high school, but dad didn't have much of a choice. We packed up our house in the scrubby desert town and trucked everything to a suburban city on the edge of central Los Angeles.

"Look, kid. I'm about to go on my lunch break. All you do is have the guests put in their phone number when they come in. If that doesn't work then take their ID and look it up in this computer. While you're standing here, fold the towels and put them on the counter. They go crazy fast so keep up. I'll be in my office if you run into trouble. Can you handle that?" Mr. Allen asked.

"Yuh... yes sir," I said. I'd zoned out and turned my back to the wall so I could pick the shorts out of my asscrack. It sounded simple enough though. He nodded and wandered off.

He wasn't kidding about the towels! I was folding like a mad man, but it seemed like everyone that passed by wanted a fresh towel. Some of the assholes even left their old towel next to the clean pile! I started to make a pile of the dirty ones on the floor. The cleaning lady came over with a fresh bin of towels needing folding. She grunted at the pile of dirty ones, but she collected them with a string of whispered Spanish and huffed away.

"Hey, Hey! The machine's not working. It won't take my phone number! Stupid machine!" The voice jolted me from my folding. I looked up to see a kid, maybe 16 years old, looking at me with anger. He had slicked-back black hair, a white tank top and shorts.

"Sorry, sir," I tried to sound sincere. "Can I see your ID? What's your name?" I set the towels down and leaned forward towards the counter.

"Zabir Naeem," The kid said in an overly accented tone. He offered no ID.

"Z-A-B-umm," I looked at him for help.

"Are you stupid? You can't sound that out? Do they only hire stupid people here?" He huffed. I felt my fists ball, but I swallowed it and offered an apology. This is one of the few places my dad would let me work and I'd need every hour if I wanted a new phone and clothes in time for school to start in August. I couldn't afford to put him in his place.

He spelled his name for me, but in between each letter he coughed "dumbass." I hurriedly looked him up in the system as I gritted my teeth.

"There you are! All good. Enjoy your workout, sir!" I offered a smile and he grunted. He reached for the nice towel tower I'd constructed and pulled one out from near the bottom of the stack; sending ten or so falling off the counter.