Author's note: The fireworks show HG talks about is in reference to a 4th of July flash I wrote for the Hot Flashes page, and can be found there. If it's too much trouble to sort through, drop me an e-mail and I would be happy to send it to you.
This story is the intellectual property of Frustrated, not to be duplicated, copied, or reproduced without the author's express permission. Please e-mail me at the address in my profile with all complaints, comments, criticism, and naughty propositions.
Based on a true story.
*
Sheila left the cash register and started walking aimlessly about the store. Only a summer hire, she thought that if she kept the shop clean during her shifts, they might rehire her next year when she came home for vacation. Jenny was in back, wrapping some glass bowls to be shipped out. People did strange things on slow days.
Sheila wandered, seeking some task to assuage her boredom.
Ah! she thought, this floor is gross. OK...I'll pick up all the big pieces of trash. She knelt, looked at her toes, wiggled them against her sandal's straps, sighed, and calmly picked up a candy bar wrapper.
Her slacks loosened around her thighs as she stood. She trudged over to the wastebasket and then headed out in search of more trash.
She fetched three more. The store was still devoid of customers and she was ready to give up. The floor wasn't so bad, really, and she would still have to vacuum after they closed. No point in doing anything now. She headed back to the register to windex the computer. In the back, Jenny started humming.
A flash of white caught Sheila's eye. It was a scrap of paper, rectangular with serrated edges. Curious, she turned it over.
Controller 12
"Controller 12?" She smirked. "What is this shit?" She strode purposefully over to the trash can, balled up the little scrap of paper, and put it into her pocket. It tingled a minute, and then got hot. She was fairly sure that wasn't right. Oh well, what did it matter? This was just a job, right? They couldn't pay her to care, not about trash.
She flipped a curl back over her shoulder and stepped into the register area. She reached for the phone. Maybe Mark was free tonight. Sure, personal calls were forbidden, but the store was empty, right? The boss was at the bank, and even if she did some back today, Sheila had caught her making some outlaw calls of her own.
Just the thought of Mark, of his big hands pulling her underneath him...Sheila fanned herself, trying to force the flush off her face. She couldn't do anything about the other flush until her break.
Her right hand picked up the phone, and her left started dialing. She froze. Her leg started tingling underneath her pocket. The feeling spread, down her leg, up to her stomach, down her arms and other leg, up through her chest, turning her whole body into a mass of tingles and sensations before rushing through her head in a haze of giggles. She turned hot, blindingly, blisteringly hot. All at once, it subsided. Shaken and blinking, Sheila put down the phone. Mark had been a bad idea. Maybe a girl's night out was the answer? She could call some people when she got home.
Recovered from her episode, or whatever it had been, she reached under the counter and brought out the windex and the paper towels. She spritzed some of the blue liquid onto a square of towel and wiped down the counter, and then the computer monitor. The smell of industrial cleaner notwithstanding, cleaning was soothing and restful.
Ow! She rubbed her arm furiously, and then turned it over and looked at it. It felt like she'd just been stuck with a needle! There was nothing there; no blood, no mark. Eh, maybe she'd hit the counter or something...
She squeezed the bottle's trigger into a new square, and started scrubbing the sides of the computer. Sheila liked watching the dirt come away into the cloth. It felt like she was accomplishing something. Maybe she should have gotten a job as a maid this summer, or something. She laughed at that and leaned an elbow on the glass counter.
I would be a maid in the house of a really rich guy, she thought, really rich and really handsome, too. I would be dusting, in just my jeans and a t-shirt but still really sexy--The tingles swept through her. --in just my little French Maid's outfit, and incredibly sexy. I would be bent over, and he would come up and turn me around and kiss me, gently-- The tingles turned into heat again, white hot heat, and subsided. Oh shit! What was tha-...I mean, she would come up and slap my ass, and then swing me up and kiss me, hard, I mean really hard, and all passionate, and--
"Sheila, you OK?"
"Oh, uh, yeah."
Jenny looked at her quizzically, but accepted her answer and shrugged. "Anyway, didn't you hear me?"
"No, I guess not. What did you say?"
"I said, I finished the three bowls, but there's a big order that just came in and the lady wants it wrapped and ribboned, and it's fine china, so I'll be back there the rest of the afternoon. If there's a rush you can call me in, though."
"OK, will do. Like that'll happen, though."
"Yeah, it's been way too slow around here." She pouted, wrinkling her friendly freckles. She gave Sheila a grin and trotted back into the wrap room.
Sheila turned back to the computer and resumed her wipe-down. She cleaned the monitor, hands running in parallel stripes. Then she went for the counter, moving the cloth in lazy, circular swipes.
The circles made her think of laundry going around in a dryer, all of the colors swirling...That made her think of her new underwear, the lacy ones. They covered things, but they hid nothing. Sheila had giggled madly the entire time at the store. The other people in the changing room must have thought she was nuts, but had been thinking she should have a real "grown up" pair or two.
In a small part of her mind, Sheila knew she had a great body. She knew her breasts were big, her waist was small, and her legs were shapely. She knew her eyes held an innocent sauciness that no man ever wanted to resist. That part of her wanted to wear wicked things like the new lacy underwear, wanted to show herself off and get dates and try things with her body that were all the rage for her age group.
Most of her was more practical. She dressed conservatively, if elegantly. Her sandals were chunky, strappy, and black; nothing flashy, no spikes. Walkable. Her pants were thin and clung to her well, but discreetly. No one would say it looked as if she was trying to be seductive. It just happened to turn out that way a lot of the time. Not that Sheila ever knew it, except in that one lurking part of her mind.
Sheila bent her head over her task, wiping the glass counter past dry. Back to the fantasy...what was it again? Oh well, new one! She re-spritzed the blue liquid and rubbed until the glass shone. OK, let's see...I'd be at the beach like last week, only this time, when Shaina covers me with sand, a guy would come over. I would be able to see his muscles, and it would get me all wet-- Huh? Her fantasies usually never included--she started to tingle, all over. I would be able to feel the wet sand pressing down on me, on my vagina and breasts-- The tingle grew in magnitude. I mean, on my pussy and tits, the pressure caressing me like a lover or a gentle stream-- The heat started. It felt achingly good this time, pummeling her pussy and kneading her breasts in a way that the innocent sun had never done. OH! The sand would press down on me like a lover's touch or a corset, binding me in and down. I would be stuck, completely stuck. Only this time, instead of having to wait until Shaina comes back with ice cream and eats it into front of me, taunting me-- The force of Sheila's hatred for her little cousin made the heat subside. It re-invaded her with a vengeance. --Feels so good, where is this coming from, I don't even-- Her knees buckled for a short second. She yelped and caught herself on the edge of the counter, fingers slipping and sliding.
"Sheila, what's going on out here?"
She blinked and focused; Jenny was staring at her, hands on hips. Her eyes were concerned. "G-going on?"
"You've been moaning for the last minute, and then you yelled. What have you been doing?" She licked her lips.
Unconsciously, Sheila copied the gesture. "Oh, just, um, cleaning the counter. Sorry if I made noise, I didn't know I did. Maybe the counter was squeaking?"
It was a flimsy excuse, but Jenny took it; the wrapping room had a TV that showed what every security camera saw, and she hadn't seen anything inappropriate or illicit. She had work to do and excused herself back to the wrap room. Her eye glanced up at the monitor every few seconds.
F-fantasy. OK. But no more cleaning things; I think the windex fumes are getting to me. She started a circuit of the room. Where was I? OK. The sand is pressing down on me, and this time, he comes up to me and starts flirting even though he hasn't seen my body. She reached the carpeting area, and started checking that the rugs were straight. The tingles blasted up her legs. Her eyes shot open, and then fluttered shut. The heat felt so tasty this time, and gentle, like a dozen kittens rubbing their way up her legs...and higher. Up and up and up... Urg...I hope I'm not moaning again...oh hell...the hottie in the tight suit flirts with me, and I say I can't get up, I ask for help. When hot stuff gives me a hand up-- The heat intensified around her sensitive parts. Thank goodness for that thick bra, or she'd be showing her nipples to the whole thank-god-still-empty store! But instead of giving me a hand up, the hottie just pounces on me and kisses me, hard, and runs long fingers through my hair--
Ding! Hurriedly, Sheila pulled her arms out of the rug rack and power walked over to the counter. The lone customer perused the garden section; too far to shout, and too close to walk over and give unsolicited advice. She was stuck standing there.
She hadn't been able to see any of his features, but he was tall and stout. Maybe he's really really hot, and he'll buy something really expensive and then-- Sheila let out a soft moan, conscious of it this time. She ducked down and reached for a tissue; if he'd heard, she could pretend it was a sneeze.
