Hi! I'm trying my hand at this for the very first time. Looking to keep writing, learn, and improve. Hope you enjoy the story of Alyssa's "boring" day at work!
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Alyssa's eyes darted menacingly around the store. She was searching eagerly for something out of place -- clothes on the wrong rack, idle clerks who should be working, customers who might be shoplifters. "Braden!" She barked at the new clerk, a teenager working his first job. "That last group of idiots that that just came in here left the paisley shirts in a mess. Go put them back in order, you're not being paid to chat! Move, double time!" Her pulse quickened a little with the thrill of scolding somebody new. New hires quickly learned that Alyssa did not abide by a messy store. They also quickly learned she had little time for friendliness, but a lot of time for belittling people.
Alyssa had very strong opinions about nearly everything, and was a harsh judge of people. She adjusted her pencil skirt and checked her high heels. It was an expensive pair. Why didn't people care about appearances any more? It seemed like every foot she glanced at had nothing more than a grubby pair of sneakers and stained white socks. Add a pair of cheap jeans and a stretched out t-shirt, and there you had it -- the modern male. Alyssa wrinkled her nose contemptuously at the thought of being seen in public like that. In the midst of her grand social critique, a young man sauntered into the store looking as out of place as a penguin in Death Valley. She immediately felt a shiver go up her spine. Tall, tattooed, skinny, with a short mohawk. Tight black jeans and a ratty t-shirt. Converse sneakers. She watched one of her clerks approach him. "Can I help you find anything today, sir?"
"Yes, actually, I need to pick up some-"
Alyssa swooped in, seemingly out of nowhere. "I can help you, sir." The words sounded more sneer that speech. She turned and gave her coworker an icingly threatening glare. The message had been sent. "I, uh... guess I'll go take the register for a few minutes, then." Alyssa watched the clerk leave and turned her attention back to the punk.
"Now what is it you need, exactly?" She said sharply.
The punk explained that he was going to a friend's wedding soon and needed some formal shirts and ties.
Alyssa looked him up and down. She picked out a few items. "These are the easiest styles to pull off. Basic. Even someone like you might look halfway presentable in them." The punk stared uneasily at her. "You'll need to try them on. Follow me to the dressing room." She walked, quickly and purposely, to the back of the store and the row of dressing rooms. "Room 3 is available. Go in there. You do know what a 'three' looks like, right?" The punk rolled his eyes and replied that he did, in fact, know what a three looked like. He shut the door behind him. Alyssa sneered at the closed door. How could he roll his eyes at me? A moment later, he reappeared wearing the first of the shirts. "You've not buttoned the collar properly, and it's meant to be tucked in. Don't you know anything about looking like an adult?" The punk exhaled impatiently and turned back to the changing room.
"I'm coming in with you. Somebody has to teach you to dress yourself." The punk stared at her, not quite sure he'd heard her correctly. "Get in, quickly!" She hissed. He went in and she followed him, shutting the door. He waited for her to speak. He had quite a shock when she began to unbutton her blouse. He was about to speak, but Alyssa cut him off abruptly. "Be quiet," she said as he stared at her lacy red bra and the inviting tops of her breasts. "Stop staring. It's like you've never seen a decent pair of tits before. Unbutton your shirt." The punk followed her orders and unbuttoned the shirt. Alyssa took a look at his chest. There were several scratchy tattoos on his chest and belly. "My God, look at you. Those ugly tattoos, and..." She put her hand on the punk's sternum. A ripple of goosebumps raised themselves on his chest and ribcage. He began to breathe more heavily, not knowing exactly where this was headed, but... starting to get the picture. "Well, just like I thought, not a lot of muscle." Skinny, greasy, and -- she moved closer to him -- smelling like weed. She stood almost torso to torso with him. Alyssa prided herself on having a fit, healthy lifestyle and athletic body. She found people who didn't exercise and eat well detestable.
"In fact, I changed my mind. I don't want you to get your sweat and grime on this merchandise. Take it all the way off. Right away." The punk followed her orders. She put her face right up against his chest, her mouth millimeters away from his nipple. He could feel her breathing onto his skin. It was fast. "You ought to start going to the gym. Do some bench pressing, or something. Look at your chest. Flat as a board!" She gave his chest a few gentle kisses and then briefly sucked his nipple. What a loser, she thought to herself. She sucked his other nipple. Dresses like shit. Smells like woodstock. No physique. And pale, to boot.
She took her own blouse all the way off and removed her bra. She had very nice breasts. Not too small, but not too big, with cute little nipples. She had tanlines from her bikini top. "I doubt you've got a girlfriend, looking the way you do. This is what a nice pair of tits looks like." She cupped her breasts with her hands. He stared. She ran her fingers over her nipples.
"Put your hands on them. This is what a nice pair of tits feels like." The punk fondled her breasts dutifully. "Did you brush your teeth this morning?" The punk was slightly taken abHack, but recovered in time to say that he had. "Then come here." He knelt down. She put her hands behind his ears and guided his face to her nipples. "This is... mmmmm.... What a nice pair of tits tastes like." He sucked one, then the other, and then back again. She could see the top of his head now, see his greasy mohawk. She frowned contemptuously. Greasy loser, she thought gain. She ran his hands through the mohawk. What an awful hairstyle. She moaned softly.
