TLDR; I worked in a creepy candy shop and was tricked into trying new candy by licking it off my crazy muslim boss’ tongue.

Still with me? Okay, let's go down the rabbit hole.

When I was 15, my good friend W got a job at an independent candy shop. The shop was located in a sketchy area of our town, but hey, it was a candy shop. My friend W was a pretty girl, with blonde hair and a South African accent. On the surface she appeared very sweet and nice; inside, she was tough as nails. She carried a knife and swore like a sailor. Now back to me. After being hired, W would describe the job to our friends and I. It seemed like a decent place to work--she got to take home free candy and he let her work in the store alone. At the time I had been working two jobs to save towards university. I worked for the library and a dingy drugstore as a cashier. I was planning on quitting the drugstore, but not without another source of income. I begged W to put in the good word for me at the candy shop, and she agreed. She explained to her boss that she had a friend who was looking for a job. He asked her the following questions about me (in hindsight, this really should have been a freaking red flag): Does she have a boyfriend? Does she smoke? Is she blonde? So answering, "no, no and yes." Zia seems interested enough to meet me for an interview. I would also like to note here that I did have a boyfriend, but W lied because she had heard him say he did not hire "impure girls." So the next week, I met with Zia for an interview. I walked into the candy shop and spot a brown man with a connoisseur moustache standing behind the counter. He was balding—but not gracefully. In place of his bald patch, he had drawn on hair--with what looked like permanent marker. Other than that, he was well-groomed and clean. When I approached him, he was very soft spoken. He took my hand, VERY FIRMLY, and held it for a long time. He said it was nice to meet me and that he thought I would have a "very fun time working with him." I was thrilled to have landed the job so easily. I didn't even have to go through a real interview. Over the next few weeks, I began training. The job started out fairly normal. Zia had me refill stock, sweep the floor, wash the windows. He let me eat whichever candies I liked and I was free to take a bag of candy home every night. He was very meticulous and obsessed with hygiene. He would wash his hands constantly (I later realized this was part of the "call to prayer" routine muslims perform). Once, when I came to work with a cold (coughing non-stop) he force-fed me cough candies ALL day. “We need to stop the spread of germs, can’t have you spreading those germs!” I remember thinking it was odd for him to care about my germs—I mean, we barely had ANY customers at all. In fact, the only customer we had that entire day were my boyfriend and his friend. They had wanted to see the “permanent marker toupée” but had to do it discretely as possible because Zia did not know I had a boyfriend. This concern would prove valid at a later time. So as Zia began to warm up to me—his secrets and eccentricities began to come out. Apparently, he was a millionaire. He would show me pictures of his million dollar properties: houses on beachfronts and condos downtown. One time, when he went downstairs for prayer, I checked the back of the picture and it turned out to be a postcard. I remember thinking that was really odd, but brushed it off as an older man just trying to impress a young girl with his imaginary wealth. He also began to pick favourites between W and I. He would constantly tell me he did not trust W and that he would watch her from his house while she worked. He pointed to a camera above the counter and said that when I was ready to work alone he would “never watch me, so I was free to do and act how I liked.” Obviously, I just sort of smiled and nodded—but I had no idea why he needed to pick favourites. We both were paid the same and did the same amount of work. There seemed to be no benefit to being the golden employee or not—so I just ignored his comments. Shortly after this conversation, things started to get really weird. Now that he had shown off all his properties, he began showing me his “clothing designs.” He claimed to be some high end fashion designer with an expensive line of clothing. He showed me multiple polaroids of girls wearing his creations. To his face I assured him the designs were lovely and worthy of couture prices, but in reality they were spandex dresses with skull and bat patterns on them. They were hardly “couture” enough to wear for Halloween. Also, he stated that the girls in the photos were his girlfriends. Or at least, I think that was what he was trying to get ACROSS. Looking back, I think the relationship he was describing was more of a “sugar daddy” situation, but I knew not of these things at that age. As I mentioned earlier, he allowed me to take any candy home—but with a caveat. For every piece of candy I took, I also had to take an almond and eat it. His theory was that almonds kept you slim and he did not want me becoming “plump.” Why he cared about my figure was baffling to me, but I thought it might be a business strategy of some sort. Later, he started hinting to his secret “party dungeon.” I didn’t really understand what he meant—being a young, and innocent catholic girl—so he eventually had to break it down for me: “I have a party room in the basement, would you like to see it?” So I said what any stupid and naïve girl says when confronted with a potentially dangerous and life-threatening situation...“Yes!” So he takes me to the back where I had only been once, and then down a flight of stairs. The entire basement is dark and I can hear him moving around the room. Suddenly, I hear the tug of a light switch and a light casts a red beam over the entire room. He had a RED bulb as the sole source of light in a basement. I took this opportunity to scan my surroundings. The basement was actually fairly small, but he had managed to cram a lot of freaky items into one spot regardless. In the center of the room there was a leather chair. It looked VERY much like a massage chair and to this day I am still unsure of whether or not it was. The room also contained shelves upon shelves of dvds. I am not sure if these were pornography or not because I was not wearing my glasses (I was too cool for glasses in high school.) There was also a video camera in the corner and pillows covering the ground. He asked me if I would ever come to one of his parties and make a video with him. I said “I don’t like to be filmed.” He said, “I have a candy which will make you less nervous. You should try it now and see if it works.” As the word “NO” formed in my throat and I worked up the courage to force it out of my mouth, the bell on the door rang—indicating a customer. The first customer we had had all day. I call that the stroke of luck that possibly saved my virginity. He seemed disappointed by the lack of opportunity, but he took the business very seriously. He made me rush up to serve them. After they had left—he announced we had just gotten a brand new candy in and he wanted to try it. He also asked if I would like to try it too and of course I said yes. He pulled out a box and within the box were tubes. It was a box of these for the curious. Zia pulled one of the tubes out of the box, slowly tore off the plastic and twisted off the top. He squeezed a huge portion of green apple goo onto his tongue and swallowed it. He then asked if I wanted to try some and I nodded. He, again, poured the green goo onto his tongue. I thought this was a bit rude, but I figured he would pass me the tube next. I was wrong. Instead, he pulled me into his arms and shoved his tongue into my mouth. It was coated in green apple goo and he pressed it on the roof of my mouth. I stood completely still—unsure how to proceed. His connoisseur moustache prickled my face and his fat, wet tongue explored my mouth. This lasted for an eternity. I don’t remember reciprocating. I just remember retreating into my head and ignoring all physical sensations. After he was done kissing me—he said we should try it without the goo. He said he was going to go pray first though, but he would put on a movie for me so that I wouldn’t get too bored without him. He put a VHS (Green Card) into the player and turned on the tv. I remember sitting, not watching the movie, hoping he would never return. I also remembering thinking that, I could keep working there. My rationale was, “it wouldn’t be so bad—I just had to explain that I didn’t like kissing and things would go back to normal.” For some reason, unknown to me, I was too shocked to empty the cash register and make a run for it. The rest of the day was spent with him inserting his tongue into my mouth at random intervals. Sometimes with the apple goo and most often without it. When it came time for me to end my shift—he gave me one last tongue rape. He said I could take home two bags of candy tonight because I had earned it. He also gave me double my wage for the hours I worked. I said good-bye to this man and walked to the bus stop. While I waited for my bus I vomited into the trash bin and threw the candy and cash onto the ground. I never told my parents or authorities. I only told my close friends. My boyfriend wanted to throw a brick into the store window, but I convinced him not to. After hearing the story, my friend W walked into the store and quit. She also quit for me. She retrieved her pay and took a bucket of candy. Apparently he just stared at her and she gave him the evil stare of death back (all while scooping up her favourite delights into the bucket). She offered to kill him, I politely declined.