Warning: Minor adult situation and possibly offensive language (how does one really correctly gauge these things?). Like this? If you’re easily offended, read no further? Blah.
ps This gives a whole new (maybe old) meaning to flash fiction.
Walstore Tales 1
Tish isn’t a fan of Walstore in the evenings. The previous times she’d been she’d
witnessed surprising behavior like a teenage girl tweaking her nipples so they’d stand on end as she walked with her friends down the linens aisle. But they needed milk and berries for breakfast and Rick wanted a new battery charger so they stopped.
She picked up the milk and blueberries and then went in search of Rick who would be glued to the electronics aisle until she had to forcibly drag him away. Rick was reading the label on the battery charger unaware that a panty-less woman was bent over showing him her everything.
“Finger me, man,” the woman said, basically shaking her assets.
Rick finally noticed her and took a step away. When Tish saw how his face mottled, she bit back a grin. The father of teenagers was mortified by the pink flesh asserting itself toward him. He looked around frantically as if trying to find something to cover her up with.
“Come on, man, you’ll enjoy it as much as me. Bet you don’t get offered young pussy every day,” the woman said.
Met with silence, the woman straightened up and then noticed Tish. Her deeply tanned skin didn’t even hint of embarrassment. “Oh, hey, Mrs. Stone. Is he your husband?”
Tish nodded at Meggie Andre, the seemingly wholesome 19-year old Catholic cheerleader she had taught American Lit to last year.
“Cool. I love his tats. How about a threesome? You were always my prettiest teacher.”
Tish’s eyes widened. She was speechless. She was sure her mouth gaped open.
“We’ll pass,” Rick said finally.
Meggie Andre shrugged her shoulders and waggled her fingers. As she walked away, her tiny skirt fluttered around her, giving a show.
“I’m stunned. She didn’t even act bothered. Have times changed that much?” Tish said. “I’m old and a prude. I’m an old prude.”
“Come on, you old prude,” Rick said, slinging his arm around her shoulder. “You’re tailor-made for me.”
“You forgot your charger.”
“Ha. I’m surprised I remember my name.”