Work is hard.
Diya makes it better. But worse.
Retail sucks. The hours suck. The tasks suck. I mean, the pay is worth it for a community college kid. I would accept just about any job if it paid enough right now. Folding one more cheap t-shirt might bring me to the end, but here we are.
My days are intermittently highlighted by the time I spend with Diya. She works the cash register during most of my shifts, distracting me from the monotony. If I was talking about the ideal girl for me, Diya would never come into that conversation. Though pure description, I wouldn't even call her attractive. But when we are together, I swear she has some sort of grip on me. I couldn't bring her home to mom, and my friends would probably tease me if I brought her around them. But somehow I still found her intoxicating.
Diya always has body odor. I don't know if she has a condition, her diet is rather aromatic, or if she just doesn't give a shit, but when you stand nearby, you can smell her. On first impression, I was taken aback. The smell was initially unpleasant, shortly progressing to making me as horny as I have ever been. Smelly women are not typically a turn on for me, but whatever Diya is doing, gets me. She is hairy as well. You can tell that she would have a unibrow if it was not maintained. The edges of her hair have many thick, extra stands that envelop her face. Her legs and eyebrows seem to always be maintained, but her usual midriff baring shirts reveal a happy trail up to her belly button that lies under a dangling belly button ring as well as some visible hair on her lower back. For a girl that is always in a cropped top, it seems unusual to show off her body hair and it intrigues me.
There is something so indescribably sexy about her lack of grooming. She does wear makeup, but aside from that, she barely looks put together. A normal outfit is some kind of cropped top, jeans or leggings, and some type of shoe she doesn't have to tie. Like a boot, sandal, or whatever seems easiest. Every once in a while, she's wearing a skirt, like today, but this did not seem to add to the maintenance of her appearance which is always minimal.
Today she is really killing me. It's already hard enough to do my job, but her added distraction makes leaving the register to fold that much harder. I am not sure if this is actually a complaint, I cannot seem to take my attention away from her. I could smell her essence immediately upon clocking in at the register. If clothing were to slightly mask her scent, her outfit wasn't going to help. She was cool, calm, collected, and confident at all times, but her scent was of a woman in heat. I always wonder if she knows. Or if she cares.
Her henna streaked dark hair was loosely held back in a high ponytail with an abundance of loose strands. Her makeup seemed minimal, but mascara clearly highlighted her big brown eyes. Her outfit was about as revealing as per usual. The store encourages us to dress young like our clientele. Diya's interpretation of the dress code is just lazy and revealing. I'm not sure if that is what the company is going for, but the male heavy staff isn't going to intervene.
She looked like she walked out of a 90's TV show, on par with the current trends. A thin, black button up sweater slightly strained at her perky tits. The material was just thick enough to hide if she was wearing a bra or not , but from previous outfits, the whole store knows that her tits can hold themselves up without a bra. She's been known to do without one more often than not. The sweater was cropped and ended a few inches above her skirt, showing her dark tan, hair covered midriff. She left the last few buttons undone to show off her sparking navel ring and hairy lower belly. Her white mini skirt sat just on her hip bones, and was made of some type of t-shirt like material. It was thin enough to slightly ride up with any step she took. The look was completed by black knee high boots with a chunky heel.
If her look wasn't flirty enough, her personality was for sure. She never showed too much excitement, but she never passed up an opportunity for an innuendo, and always made enough eye contact to grab the attention of any guy she spoke with. Diya is the type of girl that every puts every man she speaks with under the impression that they are making ground toward fucking her. I always know that I am not getting any special treatment, but I always hope that one day I will.
The work day was busy which sucked, mostly because I couldn't spend as much time flirting with Diya. I had a lot of folding to do as shitty customers looked at tee shirts and haphazardly threw them back, but I managed to admire her from afar. I got caught staring from across the room a few times, but at this point I'm sure that she welcomes the attention. Holding back a raging hard on was increasingly more challenging as the day progressed. She doesn't seem like the type who puts out, just flirts a ton and gets everyone excited. I haven't had an out of work opportunity to make a move, but I think about it every day.
Around three, she disappeared from the register for what I assumed was her break time. Our breaks have not matched up to date, keeping our interactions strictly to the store floor and interrupted by our job tasks. My mind raced, knowing that my own break began in fifteen minutes and I could have the most fortune I've had today. I could only hope that she would decide to chill in the break room instead of taking her break elsewhere. The next fifteen minutes were anxiety ridden. My heart rate was elevated and my mind went through every possible scenario to come.
3:13 pm hit and I did not even wait for the last two minutes of my shift to head back to the break room. If they fired me over those two minutes, I could care less under these circumstances. The break room is down a long hallway leading away from the door behind the register. The room was at the end of the hallway, built as a cheap add on in the warehouse. I thought about my opening line the whole walk down the hallway. Should I play it smooth? Mature? Tease her a bit? I reached the door and it was time. I opened the door to immediately see Diya facing away from me, sticking her white fabric covered ass out with her legs slightly apart and her hands running through the back of her hair like a slutty model. No more than a second later I heard the click of a camera go off and she released the position, turning to face me.
"Bill!" she fell forward, laughing playfully. She walked toward me and placed a hand on my shoulder flirtatiously, continuing to laugh. I was immediately intoxicated by her scent that had filled the room. "You caught me in the middle of a photo shoot! How awkward!"
"What a setting for a photo shoot! That thirty year old couch is quite the backdrop." I teased with a smile and we both laughed.
"Who cares about a backdrop when the main attraction is on point?" She smirked, clearly fishing for a compliment.
"The couch works for me." I smiled while eyeing her up and down.
"I thought so!" She posed a little with her hand on her hip, winking at me with her mouth slightly open to be cute. "Hey, would you take the pics instead of this stupid self timer? I was hoping to get a few more in?" She reached for her phone and held it out to me, assuming my answer would be yes. I took the phone from her hand, choosing to stay quiet and display my knowing smirk.
"High Camera angle!" she demanded as she struck a sassy pose. Hand once again on her hip, big brown eyes staring right into the lens. I clicked off a few pictures before she changed poses to face away from me once again. She stuck her little ass out at me like a porn star. I couldn't help but to think of grabbing those hips and sinking my cock into that ripe pussy. She was narrow yet shapely. I could already imagine how tight she could grip my cock between those legs. After a few more clicks, she looked back and wiggled her ass a little and looked back at me with a knowing stare.
