Leather Outlet

Avery had just clocked in for her shift at Covington's, an outlet store that specialized in leather goods. She was too preoccupied with prepping totes to notice the subtle waves of light pulsing through the floor of the store's backroom. Avery's strong will attracted the light toward her, drawing it into her body and out into the shelves starting at the floor and climbing all the way to the ceiling. As she walked to her office, she noticed the scent of leather was a lot stronger in the air than usual. Her trek was interrupted by her walkie flaring to life.

"Avery," a voice called out. "Could we have you come to the floor for a moment?"

"On my way," Avery replied.

Out on the salesfloor Avery noticed a new hire to the store, Jessica waiting for her in the shoe department with a customer.

"System just went down," Jess quickly explained, leading her to the customer. "She's looking for a pair of boots in a size 7, but we don't have any on the floor. Could you pleeeeeease help me look in back and take care of the log report again?"

"Yeah, but I'm only helping you with the logs this time because no one showed you how to do it analog." Avery let out a sigh. "I wish the system wouldn't crash before the weekend, but at least tourist season doesn't start for another-"

"Thank you so much!" The woman sitting on the bench interrupted, holding up a display boot. It was a black leather boot that looked like it should have been a thigh-high if the cuff wasn't folded to just under the knee. Avery got a good look at the brunette, she looked young enough to be a college student, but still had an air of maturity to her. "I work in retail, so I understand. But these are soooo cute, and I say you had them in a 7 online, so it'd be a shame if I couldn't go home with a pair."

"Don't worry, we'll get you taken care of." The conversation continued, but a thought smashed into Avery's mind like a semi. Fuck me, she's hot.

Back in the backroom, a box on one of the top shelves slid itself out from the bottom of a stack before falling and dumping the boots inside onto the ground. The rest of the stack hovered in the air for a moment before setting itself back down. The boots righted themselves, and the shafts puffed into shapely calves before rising on their tiptoes and walking by themselves to the double doors. Other Covington's staffers in the backroom could hear the high-heeled footfalls on the cement floor, but no one could place who was there.

The backroom isn't a place for heels.