"I'm sorry," Astrid said, as politely as she could, "but we're closing in a few minutes."
Alan nodded, and walked up to the counter with a bottle of lube. "Sorry," he replied. "You have quite a range here. It's not always easy to decide."
Astrid restrained the urge to grit her teeth. She disliked working the late shift at the pharmacy, particularly on Fridays when most of her friends had already started partying and were likely to already be drunk by the time she met them at the club... but that, she knew, was one of the drawbacks of being the newest and youngest employee. What particularly irked her was that while she'd worked hard to earn her pharmacy degree, most of her working hours were spent selling stuff that could have been bought from a large supermarket - or in the case of the condoms and lubes, from an adult bookshop. She waved the bottle over the laser scanner and glanced at the card Alan handed her. The small hologram on the card looked very bright and rather strange, almost like some sort of starry tunnel to infinity. She blinked, realising she'd been staring into its depths for several seconds, then tapped it to the paypass machine. Nothing happened.
"I'm sorry," Alan said smoothly. "That's just my ATM card. Here, try this."
She charged the purchase to his Amex card with a distracted nod, smiled as he walked out of the pharmacy with the lube, then locked the door behind him, feeling both relieved and slightly puzzled, as though she was forgetting something important. Had she neglected to give him his receipt? she wondered. Or something else? If so, what was it? Did I forget to smile, as the boss keeps telling me to do? Did I forget to say goodnight? Did I forget to ask him if he'd like me to suck his cock?
She blushed slightly, then giggled. So many men who came in did seem to expect that, especially if they had platinum Amex cards. The last customer hadn't seemed that arrogant, and he'd been polite and reasonably good looking, and he probably had a nice cock, long enough but not too fat to go up her arse easily...
She blinked, wondering where *that* thought had come from. She'd tried anal sex a few times, with a long-term boyfriends she'd dumped soon after she'd graduated, but she hadn't really acquired a taste for it...
I wonder how it tastes? she thought, and realized she was thinking of the customer's cock again. She hurriedly cashed up, trying to focus on the amounts in the till rather than fantasizing about being bent over the counter and buttfucked...
Stop it! she told herself firmly. Just because you've been working all day and are finally getting off... The phrase 'getting off' made her giggle again, and she realized that her nipples were hard and her cunt was so wet that it seemed to be sucking the crotch of her sodden thong up towards her g-spot. She wondered whether she should play with herself before she headed out towards the nightclub. She didn't understand why, but she felt so horny that she was likely to fuck the first guy who came onto her, when she almost never fucked on a first date. She rarely even sucked their cocks, let alone begged for anal, and as for ass-to-mouth, that...
Astrid gasped. That was something she'd never even fantasized about, much less tried, though she'd seen it once or twice in porn. Why did it suddenly seem like the hottest thing imaginable?
Time to get out of this shithole, she thought, and giggled again as her anus twitched slightly. She stripped out of her white uniform while working towards the 'Staff Only' door, then unhooked her bra: the little black dress she wore clubbing looked better without it, after all. She sat down to remove her sensible shoes, replacing them with her favourite red fuck-me pumps, then shed her damp g-string and stuffed it into her handbag with a half-formed thought that the skirt was probably long enough to cover her butt and underwear would only get in the way later. She touched up her lip gloss and absent-mindedly applied some to her swollen nipples. She was about to walk out the back door when she realized that she'd forgotten her dress, so she walked back to her locker, slung the dress over her left shoulder, and sashayed out into the parking lot. She was only mildly surprised to see her last customer waiting beside her Subaru, the uncapped bottle of lube on the car roof. She smiled at him, dropped her dress at his feet to use as a pad for her knees, then knelt before him and unzipped his fly.