Courtenbae

“Good morning, Steve!” You greeted, wearing a tight white button-up shirt with a black pencil skirt. Like a sexy librarian had just walked off the page of a centerfold and decided to work retail. You were lifting the gate from the front of the store and placing a sale sign right between your two shops as he passed.

“You’re opening again?” He asked, pausing in front of his stupid, sticky helljob. You blew a loose piece of hair from your bangs as you stood and nodded. 

“And closing. It’s our summer savings sale,” you explained. “You should probably expect a lot of rollover customers. Stop by if you’re in the market for anything. Maybe a nice gift for a girlfriend?” Before he could respond, you gave him a pretty smile as you disappeared into your dimly-lit storefront to finish opening. 

You’d gone to high school together, though he doubted you remembered him. You were, after all, a senior while he was just an annoying sophomore on JV Basketball. You were on homecoming court, voted most friendly for senior superlatives, and were probably the hottest girl in your class. He didn’t have a chance then, and he definitely didn’t now.

But you always said hello when he passed by, and you would stop by Scoops sometimes after work and buy a cone of the flavor of the month. He wanted to talk to you more— to actually get to know you beyond a schoolboy crush, but you were so far out of his league that he couldn’t bring himself to try. 

When he walked into Scoops, his boss, Allan, had already begun the process of opening. His task of vigorously polishing the glass case of ice cream felt pointless when it was about thirty minutes from being smudged with a toddler’s fingerprints. 

“Steven, you’re late,” He said firmly. 

Steve glanced towards the clock. “I’m five minutes early.”

Allan slung the rag he was cleaning with over his shoulder and sighed. “In my book, thirty minutes early is on time, and on time is late.”

Steve made a face as he refrained from telling Allan that payroll would disagree. Instead, he put on the stupid sailor hat and pinned on his nametag. And, just because he could, he clocked in early.

His morning was hectic. Like you’d said, there were countless rollover customers who wandered in after the sale next door, each clutching a bag of lingerie and giggling with their friends. His wrist was aching from scooping so much ice cream by the time lunchtime rolled around. He would’ve gone back for his fifteen, but there you were, your hair pulled back in a banana clip, fanning yourself as you stepped into the long line for ice cream. 

When you finally reached the counter, you smiled like the two of you shared a secret. “Busy day?” You asked as you fished cash out of your purse. 

“It’s been crazy. You?”

You peered up at him and laughed wryly. “God, you wouldn’t believe the number of women in this town who jump at the chance for discounted racy lingerie. I’m drowning in satin and lace today.”

He managed to smile without looking like a complete idiot as he scooped your ice cream, handing it across the counter as you looked at him with amusement. 

“You memorized my order? That’s so sweet, Steve.”  You handed him a few bills and coins across the counter. “Keep the change, alright? Hopefully I'll see you later.”

His cheeks burned hot. “Yeah, for sure.” He stared dumbly as you licked your ice cream and walked out into the food court. 

He needed to find an excuse to buy lingerie from you... if only to have a reason to see you again that day. 

———

It was late afternoon before he got his first break and darted into the lingerie store to the shock and horror of the women inside. He hip-checked a table displaying hosiery before he stopped in front of you, smiling expectantly. 

You put down the stockings you were folding and looked at him with amusement. “Steve! What can I help you with?”

“Oh, uh… just…” He floundered as he searched for a reason, then remembered your suggestion that morning— buying for a girlfriend. “My girlfriend.”

“Oh? What’s her name? Maybe I know her.”

Steve hesitated for a moment, before saying the first girl’s name to pop into his head. “Her name is Nancy.”

As soon as your brows furrowed, he knew he fucked up. “Oh, I heard you two broke up, or something.” 

He hesitated, mouth open as he tried to find words to dig himself out of the hole. “Oh… no, not that Nancy. It’s a different Nancy. You probably don’t know her.”

You raised your brows, but said nothing to suggest you doubted him. “I can help you find something. What were you thinking?”

He reached back and scratched the back of his neck sheepishly. He hadn’t thought this far. “Uh, what would you suggest?”

You considered it for a moment, looking at him carefully. “Well, that depends. Are you buying something she’d like to wear, or something you’d like to see her in?”

Steve blinked dumbly. “Both?”

You laughed lightly and walked towards a table displaying an array of underwear. “So, if you’re going for practical and sexy, I’d recommend panties.” You held up a lacy white pair and his mouth went dry. “A pair like these is pleasing to the eye, but totally invisible underneath clothes.” You stepped back and gave a tiny spin. “I’ve got them on now, and you’d think I wasn’t wearing any. Absolutely no lines at all.” 

Steve swallowed hard. Don’t picture it don’t picture it don’t picture it don’t— “Yeah, I’ll take those.” 

You chuckled and grinned. “Well, you’re an easy sell. Do you want the matching bra and garter belt to go with that?” You gestured to the mannequin atop the table. “The set is absolutely stunning when worn all together.”

He hesitated, knowing he had no use for any of this stuff. Still, the vision in his mind of you wearing the set was enough to make blood rush south and all rational thoughts leave his brain.

“I really can’t afford the full set,” he finally said after a synapse successfully fired in his brain. “I’ll just, uh, grab her size then.” You nodded and smiled. He had to pretend like he wasn’t thinking of you wearing this same pair, imagining what size would be closest to yours. He grabbed blindly at the folded pairs and retrieved the first ones his hands touched. 

“I’ll ring you up! I’ll even throw in our gift wrapping just because I like you so much.” You smiled and guided him towards the register, letting him cut the line of women waiting to pay. After he paid, you handed over a white box with a silky red bow and gave him a conspiratorial smile. “I hope you both enjoy.” 

————

The box sat on his bedside table— the proverbial elephant in the room. 

God, he thought. You probably thought he was a weird pervert who wanted to wear them or something. Well, he probably would if someone hot enough asked him to, but it wasn’t like he was seeking it out. 

His thoughts wandered as they usually did when it was late and he was home alone with nothing (or no one) to do. That night, though, his thoughts were focused solely on you. 

He thought about the professional pencil skirt you wore, of lace and stockings beneath. He yearned to peel them off of you with his teeth and bury his head between your thighs, tasting all you had to offer him. He wanted your manicured nails tugging on his hair, scratching his scalp as you cried out in pleasure above him.

He groaned, almost involuntarily reaching down to palm himself over his sweats. Talk about pathetic— even the tiniest mental image made him swell with desire. Fucking dry spell. 

“Fuck,” he muttered, bucking into his own grip. Just the lightest pressure made him groan and toss his head back, the expanse of his neck bared. He imagined your pretty mouth pressed against his throat, sucking bruises into his pale skin and felt his cock twitch beneath the confines of his pants.

He was quick to strip off the rest of his clothes, not wanting anything in the way. The dry glide of his hand along his hardening length made him hiss. With clumsy impatience, he reached for the bottle of lube inside of his bedside table, almost empty from solo use, sitting beside a mostly-full box of condoms.

Immediately, the slick sounds of him working his length filled the room— desperate and messy with need. Maybe he could’ve been patient— taken it slower, but he was overcome with lust and a desire for release.

“Fuck,” he groaned. “Feels so good— don’t stop, keep goin’ just like that.”

As the words mindlessly slipped past his lips, he knew he was well and truly gone. It was an entirely new level of desperate and horny to dirty talk to the girl you were hot for when she wasn’t even there. 

His free hand was splayed across his chest, just resting against the thatch of chest hair where his heart was pounding just beneath his ribs. As his desperation grew, his hand wandered lower, fondling his balls as his other hand squeezed the base of his shaft. A desperate, feral noise escaped his mouth that he’d never even heard himself make before.

He closed his eyes and he could imagine you pulling him into a dressing room, a wanton look in your gaze as you pulled the thin curtain shut, the only semblance of privacy you could get. You’d smile as you stripped off your clothes, only clad in the skimpy lingerie you’d paid for with your employee discount. 

“You’re gonna have to be quiet for me, okay?” You’d say as you pulled down his stupid Scoops uniform shorts. “Don’t want to get caught, right?”

He could feel sweat beading at the base of his neck and around his forehead, on his chest, tummy, and thighs. His entire body was burning up as he touched himself, like he was on fire from the inside out. 

He’d waste no time kneeling before you— tugging your stockings and panties down and hiking up your skirt so he could slot himself between your legs and taste you. There were few things Steve loved more than eating pussy. There was something about the taste, smell, the sounds that he could elicit with a few deft movements of his tongue. You’d pull his hair and tilt your head back as moans escaped your lips. 

He worked his length quickly as he imagined eating you out. His head was thrown back, tongue lolling out of his mouth as short pants escaped him. The slick sounds of lube and the slap of his hand at the base of his cock were pornographically loud. He’d have been embarrassed had he not had the house to himself.

“Fuck, baby,” he groaned. “Wanna make you cum so bad. Wanna taste you.”  He could only imagine the pretty sounds you’d make as you came, the way you’d tremble as your knees threatened to give out. He’d wait until you couldn’t take anymore before finally relenting, meeting you with a kiss.

Your hands would be soft. He knew this not just by looking at them, but also from the few times you’d put a hand on his arm when you passed by him in the service hallways. He liked thinking about your hands on him, squeezing him just the way he liked. 

“You’re so big, Steve,” you’d say from your knees, peering up at him with big doll eyes. Your hand would glide along his cock— slow, teasing. Your tongue would dart out, kitten-licking his tip before you took him into his mouth entirely.

“Mmm, fuck— feels so good,” Steve cried out, his chest heaving as he continued to work his hand along his cock. “Doin’ so good, taking it all for me. Just like that.”

Steve felt himself nearing his finish and slowed down, practically to a snail's pace to keep from busting early. What was the point of having a sexual fantasy if you finished before getting to the best part? 

He returned his attention to the image of you in his mind. How the drool at the corners of your mouth would drip messily, how your eyes would be wet and glossy as his cock bullied its way into your throat. Your free hand would move to cup his balls, heavy and full for you as you kneaded them in your palm. 

He’d bring you up to him and give you a kiss for good measure— slow and messy like you had all the time in the world. But he’d get impatient, like he was then to just give in and make himself cum. 

He’d press your back against the wall and lift your legs around his waist. You’d still be wet from his mouth, dripping with desire. You’d take him with no resistance at all, just a tight warmth like he belonged there. 

He needed more. Just jerking off wasn’t cutting it. He reached out clumsily with his free hand and grabbed the gift-wrapped box from the bedside table and tore at the silky red ribbon so he could knock the top of the box off. He grabbed the white lace panties from within and groaned at the sight.

“Ah!” He got a full-body shiver the moment he wrapped the lace panties around his cock, the fabric soft against his flushed length. They wrap around the head as he sets a fast pace, imagining that they’re yours— the same pair you’d been wearing that day. 

“Fuck,” he cried out, bucking up into his fist and the lace. “Holy shit, ‘m cumming. Fuck— fuck—“ He came with a shout, his spend soaking through the white lace, sticky on his hands and dripping down his shaft, pooling at the base. 

His breath came in soft pants as he came down, his cock still twitching weakly, rivulets of cum dripping from the slit. “Goddamn,” was all he could manage as he laid limp against his pillows. 

He’d made a mess, not just of himself, but of the lace panties he’d spent a day’s paycheck on. He grimaced at the sight of them, completely soiled from his exploits. With more effort than he even felt capable of, he sat up and tossed them into the hamper in the corner of his room. 

Afterward, he looked down at himself— the mess of cum and lube left behind. He stood and stretched on slightly weak legs and went to wash off. He’d deal with the shame of it all tomorrow.

————

You were smiling at customers when he came in for his shift the next day, feeling sensitive from the second round he’d put himself through in the shower the previous night… and the quick session he’d had in the morning. 

Part of him felt like a perv for thinking about you like that, but then you looked up, saw him, and smiled… and he felt the wariness wash away like it was nothing. 

At lunch, he walked into the store, which was far less crowded than it had been the day prior. You saw him and approached with a casual confidence that made him want to crumble to his knees. 

“Hi, Steve! Did Nancy like the gift you got her?”

His brow furrowed. “Nancy? We broke up last year.”

You laughed lightly and shook your head. “No, I meant your new girlfriend. The other Nancy.”

He swore internally as he nodded. “Right! Yes. She loved them, actually. She wants another pair.”

“Great, just meet me at the register when you’re done.” You smiled and departed. Steve couldn’t help but stare at your ass in that tight skirt as you walked away. 

He grabbed two more pairs— black and red— and approached the counter where you stood. You rang him up without further comment and smiled as you passed the bag and receipt over. 

“Come back soon, Steve,” you said with a grin before departing into the back of the store. 

That night as Steve was unpacking the bag, he found a small note written on blank receipt paper. 

“Steve, if you wanted to talk to me, you didn’t have to buy lingerie for a fake girlfriend to do it. XO” Beneath it, in clear print was your phone number circled twice.