I Get Back At Him

At first, it wasn’t so bad. I might’ve even called it pleasant if not for Dante’s perverted stares. The customers smiled at me more. Some of the younger guys stammered through stupid questions like, “Where’s the sci-fi section?” (Answer: “You’re standing in it.”)

A new, unfamiliar feeling met my shame. It took me an hour to recognize it as confidence. I was sexy, and I was good at my job, where previously I’d only been the latter.

When the store emptied like usual at four, Dante sidled up beside me while I restocked books.

“Need any help?” he asked.

“No,” I stood on my tiptoes to place a particularly large tome onto the top shelf. He craned his neck to get a full view of my exposed ass and pussy. I turned to him, “Can you not?”

“I’m just looking. That’s the deal, right?”

I rolled my eyes. Then a thought crossed my mind. His boner already seemed fit to burst from his shorts. Why not make things a little more difficult for him?

I grabbed a memoir off my cart and crossed to an adjacent bookcase. There, right in his line of sight, I bent at the waist and set it on the bottom shelf. I felt my skirt crawl up over my ass, leaving it all on display.

I stayed like that for a moment, ass swaying, pussy glistening. The rustle of him rubbing his dick over his pants got louder, faster.

I straightened and smiled at him, “You gonna cum in your little panties, asshole?”

His face contorted in anger, “Fuck you!”

“You wish,” I said, blowing him a kiss.

I sat down behind the register to watch Dante cope with the realization that I’d turned the tables on him. He stomped out in frustration. Something pooled between my thighs.

My heartbeat quickened with a realization of my own: my pussy was dripping wet.