*Author's Note: Any and all persons engaging in any sexual activity are at least eighteen years of age.
*****
Chapter 1
The heat shimmered off the sidewalk as Brichelle Adams walked along the strip mall. It was hot and dry almost year round in Oakleaf, Texas, but it seemed even more oppressive in late August.
The eighteen year old girl was wearing her best blue jeans, her cutest blouse, and her best sneakers as she walked from one shop to another, filling out job applications.
The manager of the electronics store had made her very uncomfortable; Brichelle had actually left his store with the job application form in hand.
"Hey, you can't walk out with that," he protested.
"I'll bring it back," Brichelle lied.
She wasn't about to leave her name and phone number with the man; the way he kept leering at her.
Brichelle Adams knew she was cute, some would even say she was pretty. She had long blonde hair that reached to just below her heart shaped backside, large brown eyes, a little snub nose and pouting lips.
But few men looked above her 36 E chest to see her large eyes or sweet smile. And if they weren't staring intently at her chest, they were staring at her rear.
It was getting close to lunch time; she knew the food truck 'School Lunch' would be around the corner. School Lunch was a school bus that had been converted into a food truck, and it served school style lunches. Turkey Tetrazzini, sloppy Joses, beef stew, hot dogs with chili con carne, and hamburgers, all with Cole slaw and apple sauce. There were twenty stools along a long Formica counter and nine or ten old wooden school desks for customers to sit and eat. Courtesy dictated that you eat your meal off the old plastic trays and then leave so the next hungry patron could have your seat.
Brichelle decided to try one more shop, then go for lunch. The owner of School Lunch took the old school staples and kicked them up a notch or two and Brichelle imagined she could actually smell the sloppy Jose she planned to have.
Valerie's Notions' was stenciled on the glass door in an almost calligraphy style handwriting. Brichelle wrinkled her nose, having no idea what a Notion was, but entered the shop.
A merry tinkling sound announced the opening of the door. The air inside was cool, and was pleasantly scented. The carpet under her feet was plush, a soft pink and white in color. The lighting was soft, not the harsh fluorescent lighting of all the other shops along this strip.
The older woman behind the wooden counter smiled a friendly smile.
"Hi, help you?" the woman asked in a soft voice.
"Hi, I um, I'm looking for a job," Brichelle said, still looking around at the displays of knick-knacks, the rows of cards, the displays of candles and displays of fine pens.
"Well, very good," the woman said, reaching under the counter. "Have a resume, Sweetie?"
"Uh, um, no ma'am," Brichelle admitted, looking at the woman.
She appeared to be in her middle to late thirties, possibly even early forties. Her blonde hair was piled on top of her head in a bun, with blonde tendrils escaping to frame her face. Her eyes were a hazel color, her nose a small snub nose, and her lips, softly painted a light pink, were full and pouting.
As the woman tore a pre-fabricated employment application from a pad, Brichelle noticed the manicured nails and the three rings. She had no idea if they were real gold and real gems or not, but she did notice that the woman's left ring finger was bare.
The woman's blouse was a soft pink in color, with flowers embroidered along the front, and she wore a soft cream colored skirt.
"Do you have a pen?" the woman asked even as she was reaching for a pen.
"Yes ma'am, I did bring my own," Brichelle said, proudly displaying the Parker pen her grandmother had given her for her high school graduation.
"Oh, that's a lovely pen; it's a Parker, isn't it," the woman said.
"Why, yes ma'am it is," Brichelle said, surprised. "How'd you know?"
In answer, the woman pointed to the display of pens.
"Oh, uh duh," Brichelle tittered.
Another woman came into the shop and greeted the woman, "Valerie, I'm looking for a sympathy card but I'm really not sorry the ass hole's dead; what you got?"
"Ms. Baker, I've told you before, you are just incorrigible," Valerie tittered and walked from behind the counter.
Valerie rang up the sympathy card, along with the birthday card Ms. Baker suddenly remembered she had to get, wished the customer a good day, then returned her smile to Brichelle.
"Finished?" Valerie asked as Brichelle was carefully checking that she'd filled out all the necessary items.
"Yes ma'am," Brichelle said, handing the form to the woman. "I think so."
"Brichelle? That's an unusual name," Valerie commented.
"Yeah, my mom's name is Michelle and my dad's was Brice, so she just kind of crammed them together and that's what she came up with," Brichelle said, quite used to people asking about her name.
"Well, it's just lovely," Valerie complimented.
Then, instead of telling Brichelle that she'd keep the application on file, or she'd keep her in mind, Valerie actually started talking about the store, the store hours, the salary she'd be willing to pay.
"But, I am sorry," Valerie said, pretty lips drawn into a grimace. "What you have on is just not appropriate. Dresses, or nice blouses, that blouse you have on is nice, blouses and skirts and closed toe pumps."
"You, you mean, I got the job?" Brichelle asked, mouth open.
"Well, yes, you did say you were looking for a job, right?" Valerie asked.
Michelle Loisel, formerly Michelle Adams, was happy to help her daughter pick out a few outfits. She was also happy to use Stan Loisel's credit card to make the purchases.
Chapter 2
"Well, don't you look lovely?" Valerie smiled as she opened the shop door the next morning. "And I just love your hair like that."
Brichelle had taken her long blonde hair and piled it on top of her head, allowing a few blonde tendrils to escape, an almost perfect imitation of Valerie's own hairstyle.
The morning went by quickly, Valerie showing Brichelle how to operate the cash register, then allowing the girl to familiarize herself with the odds and ends within the shop and within the small stockroom.
"You go to lunch; I'll have mine when you get back," Valerie said.
"I'm going right around the corner, that 'School Lunch' food truck's right there," Brichelle offered. "Want me bring you anything back?"
"No, no, I have my own," Valerie smiled.
"You'll find out, soon enough; eating out every day is a bit expensive," she added as Brichelle grabbed her purse from under the counter.
As Brichelle sat at the counter, gnawing her way through the hamburger, she realized, they'd not had a single customer the entire morning. She knew Valerie had sold two cards yesterday, totaling nine dollars and fourteen cents. But that had been the only customer that Brichelle had seen.
She ate quickly, carried the battered plastic tray to the large plastic bin, and then hurried back to Valerie's Notions.
"Thank you, come again," Valerie smiled as an older woman walked away from the counter.
Brichelle could see the dollar amount of eleven dollars and nineteen cents on the cash register's display.
That dollar amount was still displayed when Valerie wished Brichelle a good day.
Over dinner, Stan Loisel did ask Brichelle about her day. Brichelle answered the man, although she really did not like him. The man was trying to be her father and Brichelle did resent it. Her own father had committed suicide five years earlier, when he'd found out about Michelle's affair with Stan, so Brichelle also held that resentment.
But she was living in his house, and eating his food, and so she was polite to him.
"That's that little place right there on Pembroke?" he asked and Brichelle agreed.
"Yeah, if she didn't own that whole strip there, she'd be out of business," Stan agreed.
"She owns..." Brichelle asked.
"Yeah, we did a remodeling job for that, damn it, what was it? That, oh, damn, guy sells those..." Stan mused aloud.
"Narrows it down quite a bit, doesn't it?" Michelle asked her daughter and Stan glared at the two women.
"That sports place, sells the stupid baseball cards," Stan said.
"Them?' Brichelle wrinkled her face in dislike.
The manager had been quite rude to Brichelle, didn't even let her fill out an application.
"Yeah, and whole time, even picked up a hammer, there that old bitch was, right there, making sure we were up to code, making sure we didn't damage her property," Stan agreed.
"She's not a bitch," Brichelle defended.
Chapter 3
The next morning, Brichelle twisted her hair into a long French braid and Valerie smiled at the sight of that.
"I had a girlfriend when I was in high school," she said to Brichelle as they both straightened up the already quite neat shop. "Oh! We'd spend hours just brushing each other's hair and putting it into braids like that."
She indicated her own hair.
"And because mine was always so long; when I let it down, it actually drags the floor, we'd put it into about eight or nine braids and then take whatever pretty ribbons we could find to tie them all back. Oh I do miss Sherice so much!" she sighed, hand over her heart.
"What happened to her?" Brichelle asked.
"Hmm? Oh, you know, we just kind of lost touch with each other and then I married Roger," Valerie said and looked away.
"You're not still married though, right?" Brichelle asked, looking at Valerie's bare ring finger.
"Oh no, no, he decided that he would much rather be married to a little guttersnipe," Valerie spat. "A stripper! Can you imagine? A stripper; with tattoos and everything."
A customer came in and Valerie smiled and let Brichelle attend to the woman.
She rested her hand on Brichelle's back, just above Brichelle's bubble butt, as Brichelle rang up the one hundred and ninety eight dollar fountain pen set the woman was buying.
"Yes, my son passed the BAR; this is for his desk at work," the woman bragged.
"Oh, well, do you need a 'Congratulations' card?" Brichelle brightly suggested.
