"Dammit all to hell!" I raged, reacting to yet another lame ass driver stopping short, preventing us from powering through the remains a yellow light. My wife stiffened in the driver's seat of our aging heap. If she would just say something, it'd be nice. We weren't talking anymore.
There she sat, looking down her nose in her ivory tower, refusing to speak to some ill mannered commoner. Her picture should be in the dictionary, gracing an entry for delusions of grandeur. It wasn't bad enough to be doing community service; oh no, I had to be dropped off like a school kid, due to my suspended license. I didn't think my early retirement would suck so much.
It had to be a lady cop busting me for each of my stupid offenses, writing me tickets which I could have paid if it wasn't for Mrs. Spendalot over there. I was to put in four full days to pay for my transgressions, at a thrift store in the seedy part of town. Oh how the mighty have fallen. Fat wonder I couldn't get it up anymore. Wifey dearest doesn't even care, not a bit. "Well, see you..." Slam! Screech! She had reached over to slam my door for me in mid farewell and floored it, leaving me in the dust. Fuckin' bullshit.
I limped my sorry carcass into the store's back room, like I'd been told to do. The lady in charge barely even glanced at me, regarding me with disdain before peering over her glasses at my work papers.
I felt a sickly sensation spread through me, imagining Miss Big Tits there offering to sign me off early in exchange for tawdry sex favors. Aw, hell! Who was I kidding, anyway? That's not happening. Maybe twenty years ago, not anymore. I leaned forward, seeking my orders, like the worst actor in the midst of the crappiest play ever.
"Okay, Mr. James, we can use you." She couldn't have been clearer.
"Great! Where should I start?" Oops, too eager, dumb-ass. I had to remind myself it was them who were helping me out of a bind.
"Get outside to the truck, go help on the donation pickups. That should fill your day." I blinked with relief. "Go on." She made a dismissive shoo fly gesture in my direction. Thanks Jiggles.
"Hi, I'm Will," i said , offering to shake the warty hand of the bespectacled fat-ass driver. He stared me down, ignoring my shake-a-paw face. I was glad; damn chronic masturbator.
We bumped our way along the route, picking up flotsam and jetsam from places of all description. Despite my bad back, I had a pretty good day. We nearly had a conversation after finding common ground: common ground in the form of a brief loose bathrobe flash from a curvaceous Italian woman running after the truck with a last minute donation.
Yuck. I noticed his stubby boner in his overalls. It shuddered as he coughed. I hoped he wasn't contagious; lord only knows where he's been. I guessed he'd been with maybe four women, all paid for.
"One day done, three to go," I happily informed my wife. She was sitting stoically on the sofa, watching recorded drivel, ignoring the dinner I cooked. She looked straight ahead, saying nothing. The last I saw, she was letting her un house-trained little rubbish dog help himself. The hell with them both; I'm a working man again. I bid them goodnight in a made up language from my childhood, not that she noticed. I went to my room to sleep the night away in my clothes, in front of the TV.
The next work day was to find me working inside the store. The driver's buddy displaced me from that glorious position I'd enjoyed yesterday. I showed up early enough to overhear the bastard telling I was too slow or something to that effect. Oh whoa is me.
I busied myself clipping little hooks on the women's clothes I'd been assigned to. I didn't mind lingering over the lacy undergarments one bit. I blushed on encountering a lace up, red and black teddy with dangling garter hooks. The darn thing gave me a surprise semi hard-on. I blushed more when the lady in charge noticed me daydreaming over my new favorite find. She switched me to dust bunny patrol, snatching the garment from my hands, she handed me a broom while eyeing my pants zipper. She didn't need to worry: what can't get up can't get out.
I'd collected half a pail of debris by the time a truly wonderful sight caught my attention. I stood up to absorb the image of a girl scarcely twenty years old, I guessed. She wore a long fringed, trashy black leather jacket with only the lower button done up. Her astounding, huge breasts mocked her jacket's ability to surround them. A familiar hot surge swarmed my groin as I caught her scent. Her bare skinned, sculpted thighs wrestled together within he bonds of her slick, white leather mini skirt. My mouth watered.
I gripped my broom as I watched this black haired beauty brusquely pass on her way to the lingerie section. Her voluptuous derriere cheeks rose and fell as she walked the aisles, straining the confines of their gleaming leather housing. My heart skipped when she selected my favorite teddy, fondling the lace between her lithe fingers. I didn't dare further oglings, as I wanted to avoid getting caught.
I wasn't staring when she caught my gaze; I was merely a man at work. She flashed a look of contempt with her impossibly big green eyes, curling her lip at me, the old letch daring to encroach on her presence. "Pfft!" I snorted, returning to my dismal assignment. She tore the teddy from the rack and clacked on her teetering high heels to the change room.
I wasn't happy with her rebuke, since I wasn't doing anything out of line when she saw me. I boldly ventured to sweep in the vicinity of her stall. Things had gotten interesting.
I watched her draw her feet from her slutty shoes under the changing stall door. I heard a zipper, followed by her skirt falling to the floor. She stepped clear of the garment, followed by the spine tingling descent of her damp crotched red panties slipping down her smooth calves. She hooked her toes around their frilly waist band, whisking them up out of sight. I stood, leaning on my rigid broom stick, remembering how my own stick used to get just as hard. I swept a few more strokes, to keep up appearances.
I was looking over my shoulder, having promised myself to move on, when I heard the door-latch. She held the door open a crack, wide enough to see my hand in my pocket, toying with my cock. I peered in at her with morbid fascination. She shot me an icy stare, then flipped me her middle finger. My stomach lurched, I felt a fullness expand my cock as she slammed the door. I got the heck out of there, fearing the worst was yet to come.
I waited, swept, straightening rows of shelf goods while keeping a furtive watch on the change room. She emerged empty handed. She strode out of the store without incidence. I swept my way back to her stall, finding nothing left behind. "Thief. Slutty little lingerie thief," I remarked to myself, inhaling her lingering perfume to revive my earlier arousal. I felt more alive than ever as I rode home basking in Ice Queen's silent treatment that night. If she only knew of my feverish desires.
Day three: I was back on the job, with a plan in mind. Like a prisoner preparing a jail break, I gathered a few items for the possible return of my pilfering goddess at large. Some items were from home, others procured from the store's back-room and toy-shelf. I was ready.
She never showed up. It was just as well, as I spent the day helping fix the loose railing around the store's front entrance.
Day four: My last day of servitude. I was back on the floor, this time replacing metal coat hangers with the quieter plastic variety. A new community service-opting friend of the manager was in charge, replacing the lady and her assistant. They were going for makeovers together. My mind went into joke overload, picturing those two out irritating the town outside these walls. I had started liking the place, seeing it as a refuge from my predictable home life.
Aha, Miss Sticky Fingers walked in, planning to steal 'who knows what' this time. She pretended not to recognize me as she sauntered past. We had entered into a cat and mouse game to be sure.
I shadowed her travels through the store. I noticed she had the cheek to wear the stolen teddy; the lacy, built in push up bra portion of it rose above her blouse. Her truly titanic endowment needed no enhancement, as they bobbled well above the lace border. What a twit.
I advanced on her position, my scalp afire, thrilling at the hunt. She had nowhere to go; she was cornered, totally cornered. Our eyes bore into each others. She jammed her hand towards her purse, quick draw style but missed. I froze in my tracks.
"I wouldn't do that if I was you!" I snapped. I flashed the toy police badge pinned inside my lapel. She fumed while tossing her purse to the floor. I kicked it under the shoe shelf. A snub nose revolver skidded forth, stopping at my trembling feet. I winced at the possibilities. I pocketed it, while adding, "Come with me Miss."
She huffed and puffed her way out of the store with me on her heels. "Whatcha gonna do, old man? Forty lashes?" she chided, standing in the shaded semi private area alongside the store. Her tits were huge and heaving in the breeze.
