Author: Rob Pink

Neighborhood: Oceanside

Age: 60

Occupation: Winemaker

Oh, Yolanda, Yolanda, just speaking your name sends shudders of loving emotion resonating through my body. Come closer to me, my love, I must have you tonight. His lustful hands around her waist, then exploring her every curve, those firm breasts against his, her heat igniting his passion.Their bodies moved as one, his Jade Wand entering the Charmed Palace, her moans of pleasure….

“Get your lazy fat ass out of bed! ­You’ve got to leave for work in 30 minutes!” his wife roared. “I ­don’t want to have to come in there and beat the crap out of you!” Her threatening voice broke the ­spell.

Yolanda, Yolanda, I must go in the forest and fight the dragon. I will protect you, my love. We will be together ­soon.

The graveyard shift started at 11 p.m. The restocking crew was busy replenishing the shelves for ­tomorrow’s shoppers. The maintenance crew was gathering their supplies of buckets, mops, disinfectants, and buffers. He was able to get his job at Walmart after three failed attempts at filling out the application but was moving up the corporate ladder from mopper to floor-buffer trainee. Tonight he was going to operate the dual, counter-rotating head, five-speed Whizzer ­Buffer.

He placed the handle against his belly just above his belt buckle and hit the switch. The pulsating motion…he yawed the handle to the left as ­he’d been taught, and the buffing head moved left. A gentle transition to neutral…now to the right, the head moved right. Back and forth, the motion seemed easy for him as he advanced down aisle ­three.

Yolanda, Yolanda, I see ­you’re wearing my favorite nightie. Come closer, my love. Their eyes riveted to each other, he felt her breath against his lips. He switched the Whizzer to high. Left, and back to the right, he and his Yolanda moved to aisle four as they danced an embrace, their bodies ­one.

“You dumb ass! ­Didn’t you notice you knocked over that display case on aisle three? Give me that buffer! ­You’re fired!” screamed the boss. “Pick up your stuff and get the hell outta ­here.”

The bus ride home will be long tonight, my love. Yolanda, Yolanda, move closer to me — stay away from that drafty window. Put your head on my shoulder, dear. I love the smell of your hair. Yolanda, Yolanda, ­let’s just stay on this bus and ride till our money runs out. Our love will nourish us; our passion will keep us warm during the chill of the night. Yolanda, Yolanda, as long as we are together….

They found them there, behind Walmart, frozen together in a last, loving ­embrace.

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