No one’s ever all good or all bad. We’re a mix. Sure, some people lean in one direction maybe. I know I’m not a saint, far from it, but I do my part in the little life I have to brighten people’s days.

I took a hit from my dab pen in the parking lot before heading into the building. I’d much rather be buried to the hilt in a whimsical maiden but, duty calls. These shelves aren’t going to stock themselves.

These were my thoughts as I took my shift at Costco in the loading department. As I hauled boxes onto the loading crates I thought back to the previous night. The lass was one of the few single women who frequented my manor, so she was often available. She’d come to my house most evenings and last night was no exception. I tried to focus on the task at hand but everything reminded me of her. The leaking milk jug, the rotisserie chickens turning on their wheels, even the churros.

As I took up the next shift at checkout, I wondered what beautiful women might cross my aisle today.  Yeah, I flirted, maybe even fucked some of them, but it was harmless. I was not the kind of guy a woman was going to “settle down” with anyway. And the women were more than willing participants.

Ahh, another fine example of the female species, category: MILF. She was wearing patterned leggings. I couldn’t help myself.

“I like your leggings,” I said with a smile. It wasn’t entirely false, I did like the pattern. I just liked what was underneath so much more.

“Oh, these?” She looked down. “I’ve had them forever.”

By then, I was nearly done checking her out, so I added,

“Are you aware they’re see-through?”

She flushed and looked down, then back at me.

“I…I was not aware.”

“Have a great day!” I said and she walked away. She was too shocked to tell me off, and besides, I’m too good-looking. She liked it.

Some might say I should seek help in the form of pharmaceuticals or talk therapy. But as a wise man once said, “I love bad bitches that’s my fucking problem and yeah I like to fuck I got a fucking problem.”

Most of the women I saw were married. They’d tell me the shit they didn’t want to tell their husbands yet are more than happy to disclose to a Renaissance-clothed man with a questionable moral compass. Maggie liked to be brutally pounded. Laura wanted to be slapped. Dana preferred light touches.

There was this one woman who frequented the store who would give me the strangest looks. She was beautiful in a classic way, with arched dark eyebrows, pouty lips, and piercing gray/green eyes. She carried herself with a quiet confidence. Her body was soft but not large and she tended to wear flowy dresses. She stood out from all the basic Colorado moms in athleisure. Her breasts looked full and her hips swayed when she walked.

I was used to the occasional side eye or comment like “nice gauntlets, bro,” -that’s not what they’re called- “I like your costume”- it’s not a costume. I don’t have to say these things. These customers will get their comeuppance and that brings me peace.

She was different. She’d look at me with an unmistakable mix of fear and desire that unnerved me. The first time I complimented her dress, she lit up like the Christmas trees we started selling in September.

“Really? Thank you.” She beamed. “I like your… uh..”

“Tunic?” I offered. It was dark green and I’d sewed it this past spring with the sewing machine I’d gifted myself. I’ve tried my hand at many skills, woodworking, welding, but nothing soothes my soul quite as much as slipping into a new tunic I’ve crafted from my own hands.

“Yes, I like it.” She said, her gaze traveling up and down my torso. Such obvious lust.

Her dress was nice, but what I was complimenting was her body and I think she knew. I could make something much nicer for her. Something silky and elegant was what she belonged in. And where she belonged… I had a few ideas.

Stop it, Sean, you always fall in love with customers. Don’t get attached.

Later that night I allowed myself to think of her again. There she was, giving me that same smile as her mouth traveled lower down my torso, those eyes looking up at me for reassurance. I’d give her reassurance. I’d give it to her.

The next time I saw her she had both children in tow at the checkout counter. I started scanning her items.

“How’s your day going?” I asked, trying to act like she was just another customer and not one who drove me to the brink of erotic insanity.

“Better now,” she smirked.

Fuck. Say something quick, you idiot.

“Well then don’t look at the receipt.”

She didn’t laugh. Her silence was almost more interesting. She left and I missed her, though the interaction was so short.

Many moons later, she strode up to me at the checkout aisle.

“Do you have something I can get… in bulk?”

Shenanigans. I fought down a massive boner.

“What is it?” I asked.

“You’ll figure it out.” She said and walked away. Before I could think, I hurried after her.

“It would be my honor.”I said as I got down on one knee.

She turned around, her eyes an invitation. I stepped closer and pressed my lips to hers. She kissed back, rubbing her hands up my neck. I tried not to moan.

I really didn’t know anything about her. But was I going to invite her into my home and give her the fucking of a lifetime? Absolutely.

Her body felt warm against my back as we sped along to my humble manor by way of my motorcycle. When we arrived, she hesitated at the door.

“If you’re rich why do you work at Costco?” The dreaded question.

“Community service,” I answered automatically.

The truth was that I’d had a criminal past. I never got arrested but the cop let me off with a lifetime of working at Costco. Listen, I don’t claim to understand the criminal justice system. The cop checked in every so often to make sure I still worked there. I’m a simple man, and I didn’t need much. It’s not so bad, I thought to myself. But she didn’t need to know all this.
I then launched into a tirade about why she should crawl to the bedroom and let me fuck her. Why? I don’t know, I’m just a man trying to get laid.

I don’t usually make them crawl just if I think it would be a particularly nice sight. And it was. But it was taking far too long so I scooped her and hauled her onto the bed.

It was as if she knew just how I liked to be sucked. And she was so wet. So, so wet.

I’m going to ruin her for any other dick, I thought as I thrust.

I didn’t know anything about her and it didn’t matter. I didn’t know about the time she had a singing recital and when her name was called she fled the room. Or how she ate lunch in the library every day of high school or even if she had any pets or siblings. All that mattered was how good she felt.

After the four-hour fuck sesh, she freaked out and made me promise to give her discounts and premium membership. Then I was able to go to Panera to meet my friend. I wish they had more high-protein options but my friend Scotty and I always had Panera on Thursdays. Yes, Renaissance Man went to Panera.

I’m a multifaceted individual. You can’t put me in a box. People loved to put Renaissance Guy in a box. ‘Renaissance guy doesn’t go to chain restaurants. Renaissance guy just plays Dungeons and Dragons and doesn’t do anything.’ Well, they’re wrong.

“I dunno dude. I just… like her.” I confessed to him.

~~~

I myself am a fan of erotic literature, and while browsing the internet one afternoon,

I stumbled upon a character with an uncanny resemblance to me. The farther along I read the more I realized it was about me. The bitch even used my real name! She got a few details wrong, but the point was clear. She was obsessed with me.

At my next shift, my eyes scanned the store with the same predatory gaze I usually exhibited, but this time there was something else at stake. Which one of these sluts could it be? The one with the excessive amount of shampoo? No.

This lady buying two crockpots? Maybe. What about the woman in the dress with the little kids? It had to be her, the one who gave me the looks.

I reminded myself to take even breaths as I followed her out to the parking lot.

“What do you think you’re doing?” My voice came out angrier than I meant. She whirled around.

“Bringing my groceries to my car?” Her eyes flashed with some emotion, I couldn’t tell what it was.

“Nope.” I smiled, “Try again.”

“Trying to get reasonably priced wipes.” She knew what I meant but she was going to be difficult.

“Does this sound familiar? ‘My heart always raced when I entered the store for the possibility of seeing him.’”

She blanched.

“What do you want?” She asked, practically shaking.

“Lucky for you I actually think it’s kind of hot,” I said, knowing that I probably sounded like an asshole. “I don’t want anything really. Except you. If you’d want that. And to help you load up your car.”

There was a silence. I couldn’t take the silence anymore. Say something! She didn’t.

“Well, have a nice day then,” I said and walked back into the building. I felt her eyes boring into my back with each step but I didn’t dare turn around. Whatever happened next was up to her.