The book store opens at nine in the morning on normal weekdays, and opens at eight on the weekends. It closes its doors at eleven at night, while it closes at nine at night on Sundays.
When it opens, the manager, who had been there for two hours or so with some of the other employees, goes around and checks up on things. On Sundays, he’ll check up on the shipments of books, and whether they had arrived or not, usually cataloguing them. Thirty minutes before the bookstore officially opens, he’ll have had all these books ordered out, and then will have had turned on the lights. The other employees are working at various miscellaneous activities, such as setting up the posters, cleaning things out, ordering things, various activities such as that.
In one of the offices, Harold Green, one of the employees, is allowed to choose the entire music schedule for the day. He’s very elated at this prospect, as it has been three entire weeks since he has been allowed to choose. Usually, he and Alicia are allowed to choose the music every alternating day, but he had given her the past three weeks in exchange for a blow job that he really, really wanted from her. She had wiped her mouth and spat it out after they’d finished, but her smile from being able to choose seemed to make the act worth it.
It was definitely worth it to him.
Either way, it was his turn now. There was a limited amount of music that they were allowed to choose from. There was no hardcore rap, metal, or any others of similar genre. There was only supposed to be music that complemented the lookers and readers. It was the background music, especially since the sound was naturally toned down. The manager favored classical music, which was all well and dandy, but Harold usually liked something harder, maybe some light hip-hop, blues, jazz, or country. Picking it out, he started playing them through the speakers, even though the store had not officially opened yet.
While she was flipping through some of the adult novels, Alicia heard the music, and rolled her eyes.
At nine of the morning this average Thursday, the store opened. One person was already waiting outside, and Alicia, manning the front desks, welcomed him in. The guy, who was in his mid or late twenties, was named Joseph Hardin. He wore normal, casual clothing, a black turtleneck sweater and some loose jeans. A small black goatee jutted from his chin, and he nodded to Alicia. Alicia, who wore the basic employee clothing, smiled and twirled her fingers back. The guy was always the first into the store, and he was pretty hot as well. She wanted to fuck him.
Joseph glanced through some of the books, running his hands through the spine, feeling a chill up his own. He was a bibliophile, although he didn’t look it, and he basically consumed books. He barely remembered any books he had read even last month, but couldn’t help but continue reading more books. He felt a bit shameful of himself doing this every day, never giving the bookstore any money, but was usually too distracted by the books to notice.
Grabbing a book from the shelf, not even caring what it was, he sat down, and started reading. Already, the title of the book had escaped his mind. His eyes crossed every word, traversing every sentence, casually consuming it. He saw how the main protagonist defeated his foe, foiling the most masterful plot, and didn’t really care. The story never mattered to Joseph. It was the act of reading that was spectacular to him.
Joseph, in his life, has never reread a single book.
So he sat there and finished up his daily helping of novels, whatever the genre.
Roughly fifty minutes after the store had opened, and some people were bustling about, a man came in with a phone to his ear. Named Gerald, he wall tall and solid, a massive man beneath the expensive grey suit he wore. He brought nothing in his hands except the cellphone, to which he used continuously. He spoke softly, though, but with strength, as to not disturb the other patrons. Most ignored him, although one or two gave him a look, as if being so large was a crime. He ignored them. He always did. He’d had thirty years of practice ignoring people.
Gerald passed by Harold as he went to one of the sections of the bookstore, the self-help section. He said, “Well, yeah, I see it, bye,” to his phone, and then promptly closed it, giving no care that it was a five hundred dollar phone. The tip of his finger touched the edge of a book, which he reread to make sure he got to right book, and then two fingers gripped the cover of the book as he pulled it out from the shelf.
The book read: Managing Anger: Proper Workplace Etiquette, 2nd edition.
A woman right next to him, who was pulling out an inspirational book that told people that they had to trust themselves, because they obviously couldn’t listen to their friends and family’s advice, gave him a look. The woman, seeing how large he was, gave him another glance, finding him almost two feet taller and with many, many muscles. She saw the expensive looking cellphone at his side, and the suit that was probably three times as expensive. She saw the book.
She started edging away.
Gerald didn’t sigh or anything, he was used to it. The book was not actually something that he needed, or would have ever thought of needing, ever, but he told his wife about the seminar at work that dealed with anger management. He had never gotten a demerit or reprimand of any kind relating to that, but his peers, unbeknownst to him, were always a bit scared that he would be angry, and sent him anyways. They never actually noticed how softly he spoke, just the fact that he smiled rarely.
So, his wife, believing that her husband’s colleagues believed him to have anger issues, promptly told him to go to the bookstore and buy it. Even though he actually was a foot and a half taller than his wife’s thin, fragile body, he had sighed, and said, “Yes ma’am,” and had went to the bookstore.
Gerald now brought the single book up to the counter, which earned him blank stare from Harold. Gerald glared back, and Harold glanced away, finishing the purchase and then giving the large, large man a mumbled, “And have a good day,” as the man left the store.
An hour later, a woman was pushed in. Arial Lindsey told her boyfriend, Alex Grin, “Let’s go to the sci-fi section.” Alex smiled at her and nodded, pushing open the second set of doors and then rolling her forward. Step after step, there was a small, almost unnoticeable creak in the wheelchair that nobody really noticed, but sounded like a massive screech to Alex. Still, he continued onwards, asking the personal manning the desk where the section was and then faithfully following the duty given to him, pushing Arial forwards.
Nearing one of the books, Arial reached out, but was confined to the space in her wheelchair. She frowned, and strained forward, until Alex finally to a step forwards and grabbed it from the shelf. Arial gave him a beaming smile, and then took the book to her laps. Glancing around, Alex finally found a nice, suitable spot for them to settle at.
People looked. They always looked. Wherever they went, someone would remark to Arial that she was in a wheelchair, as if she didn’t notice. Arial, if she was in one of those moods, would then make a joke about it, and the commenter would walk away, embarrassed but with an inexplicable hint of anger that they were spoken to like that by a cripple. Others would try and make Arial feel better, often lowering themselves slightly to bring their heads to the same level as that of Arial. Honestly, she thought that those type of people were worse, and usually made Alex push her past them, not even deigning to reply.
In this case, it was quite nice that the tall bookshelves hid her from most of the people, until they settled at the place in the corner. Lightly, like the princess she once was before the accident, Arial opened up the book, and started reading. Alex took out a novel on the shelf, and began to flip through it, his eyes passing the pages without a second thought. He stood there, by her side, like a knight awaiting princess. He didn’t do anything, just read with her, until she got finished or until she was bored.
At two in the afternoon, it was time for the break for Harold, Alicia, and two others. The two went out to the back, where a brief argument ensued.
“Harold,” Alicia said, “You go get some the Starbucks drinks.”
“I concur with her statement,” Matt said. “You be the bitch today.”
“Er, no?” Harold started. “I got it yesterday. Remember...?”
“You chose the music today,” Alicia said with a smug look. Harold shot her a dark look.
“You two are the only ones the manager lets choose the music, and seeing as I’m a gentleman, I would never dare let a fair woman such as Alicia do such a menial task,” Matt said with a flowing tongue and a arrogant grin. “That’s why you be the bitch.”
“Argh, whatever,” Harold conceded, he turned and started to leave, as the other began to shout their orders at him.
“Carmel Macchiato, venti!” Alicia yelled.
“Misto, 140 degrees!” Matt yelled.
The other store employee, Ki’ren had been eyeing the conversation with an amused eye, now perked up and said, “Chai Latte!”
Rolling his eyes, Harold waved at them as he passed the threshold of the employee door. He took a glance around, and found the Starbucks café at the corner of the bookstore, where an area was squared off with a classic Starbucks feel. The sign was huge, and faint brew of coffee could be smelt by Harold as he neared.
He frowned as he saw the line; there were four people in front of him, which made the wait annoying. The manager had forbidden the store employees from cutting in the Starbucks line, so it was somewhat ridiculous that someone wearing a store uniform had to stand there, looking stupid.
There was a wave of someone’s hand. Harold leaned to the left slightly, and found Misty working at the Starbucks counter. He smiled at her and waved back. She gave him a smile, and finished up the next order in the line.
When it was his turn to order, Harold gave a smile and asked, “What, no classes today?”
Misty shrugged, still giving a cheerful grin. “I’d finished up the class with Mr. Winder and Sohmer in the morning. I’ll be doing the shift here from now till eight or so.”
“Winder’s class still a bitch?” Harold inquired.
Misty nodded, her grin finally receding for a moment. “Yeah, I’ve so gotta finish the science project there. You wanna help me out?” she said with a coy glance.
Harold pretended to think for a moment. “I don’t know, I have finished all the credits I need for that class... What do I get if I help you out?” he said, leaning on the counter and bringing their faces close together. Misty gave a small laugh at his flirtation, which she welcomed very much.
“Friday night,” she ventured, a little anxiety on her face. “I’m free then.”
Harold gave a small cock of his head, and grinned. “Alright then,” he said, quite happy to finally be going out with her. “Maybe a more romantic place could have made the proposal better, but Friday works just fine.”
Misty blushed and smiled. “What, Starbucks isn’t romantic?” she asked.
“No,” a voice from behind Harold stated, “It is not, and therefore, can you please hurry up and order, I’m not getting any bit younger!”
Harold turned around, to see an old man waiting in line, giving both him and Misty a deathly frown. Harold turned back to Misty, and they both gave a smile and shrug, as if saying, “What are you going to do?”
Then, with a bit more of the workplace jolly than usual, Misty smiled and said, “Hello, welcome to Starbucks, may I please have your order?”
At four in the afternoon, a boy walked in. He was sixteen years old, and one could see it as well. Acne and pimples swelled on his brow, mercifully hidden by the long black hair that crossed his face. Thin and gangly, he walked with a hunch, not eyeing anyone in the face. Passing by Alicia, he actually have her, and more accurate her red hair, a glance, but looked away when she noticed and returned it. Alicia’s eyes followed him for another second, before returning to her book. Emo boys didn’t interest her, although his obvious youth was somewhat of a turn on.
His name is Erin.
Erin walked forward, into a section not oft visited by those of his age. He glanced at the titles and authors of the shelf, muttering through bated breath, “Noxt, Noxt...” Finally, he found the author, his favorite fantasy novelist of all times, Narxt Noxt, obviously a pseudonym. Checking out the row of books there, Erin found the next installment in the author’s latest series.
He grabbed the book, and then glanced around. He started towards the left side of the bookstore, which was on the opposite side of the Starbucks café. A tall series of bookshelves line that side, perpendicular to the wall, so there was some privacy. The wall itself was glass, and revealed the outside, a view that Erin always liked.
Erin sniffled as he neared the wall, and his stuffy nose started acting up again. His left nostril closed, until barely a wisp of air could escape. As he sat down on an empty wooden chair right next to the bookshelf, the other nostril started to have some sinus problems as well. When he tried to breath through his noses, the left one didn’t work too well and the right one gave a feeling that some snot was clogging it up. Erin wiped at his nose, to no avail, and then started breathing through his mouth.
Ignoring this, Erin focused his attention to the book that he now held in his hands. Erin opened the cover reverently, and then started reading it, savoring every word that he read.
After ten minutes or so, his right nostril started running. Trying to push some air out through his nose, Erin felt the feeling that there was lots of snot wedged up in there. Placing a finger to plug up his left nostril, Erin pushed a hard blast of air out through that nostril, freeing the white snot that was stuck in there.
“Stupid allergies,” he said, belying the fact that it was spring and lots of pollen floated around. Shaking his head, he found the snot on the floor of the store, right next to him. Glancing around, he was quite happy he chose this spot, where privacy could be found.
His right nostril suddenly clogged up, which a piercing feeling was made through his left nostril. A slight breath of air revealed some more mucus in that nasal area, and using his left thumb, picked at his nose. Taking his thumb out, a line of phlegm trailed down. He wiped it on the shelf that he was right next to, playing with it for a brief moment as he expanded the area of the snot, thinning it out so that it was less noticeable if anyone were to come here. Picking his hand back up, he noticed much small bits of dirt and debris stuck to his recently wetted thumb. He rubbed it at his jacket, and then continued reading.
As he finally finished with the book, which was shorter than he would have liked, Erin wetted his lips, noticing that breathing through his mouth made it dry and a bit cracked. Placing the book on a random shelf next to him, Erin started to leave the store, sneaking another glance at the beautiful red hair of Alicia again as he exited.
At five, someone opened the two doors of the bookstore. The bookstore had a foyer where two stands flanked the sides, giving propaganda to all those that entered, and then a second set of doors right past it. For both the doors, the person that walking in pushed both of the doors open, walking right in the middle and letting the doors close behind him.
Moving with a certainly showing how well versed he was to where everything was located in the store, he went to the back corner of the room. Passing the comics and manga section, the entered a threshold where two water fountains lied on wait for any feeling thirsty, and three more doors stood in dimmed light. The middle one seemed to be a closet of sorts, and ignoring that, he entered the one farthest in, where a sign on the door said, “Men’s room.”
The music that was playing lightly in the background, a jazzy little song, faded out as he entered the bathroom. He waited as he entered, pausing, listening for any signs that others were there. A small sound of a drop of water splashing against the marble surface of the sink, that was all that could be heard. He sighed, feeling relieved. He hated going to the bathroom when anyone else was there.
Opening the door to one of the stalls, he turned and then pushed the lock on. Then, he check to make sure that the toilet paper was there, and feeling content that it was, looked at the rim of the toiler. A small of yellowish water could be seen, and he sighed.
“You just had to choose this stall, didn’t you, Mike?” he said to himself. Opening the stall again, he ripped a large wad of toilet paper, brought it to the sink, and slightly saturated it with water. Bringing it back to the rim of the toiler, he wiped at it, making sure that none of it touched him, and then throwing the wad of dirty papers into the toilet itself. Grabbing some more paper, he repeated this, and then used a final turn to wipe at the rim with dry paper, making sure it was clean. Going to the sink and washing his hands, with soap, he went back to the toilet stall, locked the door, removed his jeans and letting it fall to the ground, he proceeded to take a dump.
A young girl named Marisa walked into the store. One could easily tell that she was barely post pubescent, with still forming breasts in her training bra and a height that was still short. Glancing around, Marisa walked towards the kids section of the bookstore, located in the back of the store, and then searched around. Marisa grinned as she found her father.
Tugging on his sleeves, which brought his attention to her, Marisa said in Japanese, “Let’s go home, father.”
Sighing, the man placed down the novel he held in his hands, named Chappie the Frog: The Many Adventures Of Your Amphibious Friend. Replying in their own language, the man said, “Will your mother let me back?”
Marisa simply said with the same simplicity, “Let’s go.”
With an ache in his bones, the man got. The two started to leave the store, a Japanese man at perfect Japanese height of barely five foot six and his little daughter holding on to his hand.
There aren’t that many things to do while one is taking a dump in the stall of a bookstore. Mike knew this, but it was an hour walk from his home to the store; a sudden urge to take a dump overtook him as he had neared the store, and like hell was he about to walk back home.
The stall was considerably small. Mike traced the surprisingly intricate designs on the stall walls, seeing the green and many shades of it coloring the walls. He saw the tiled floor, admiring and wondering how people make such random tile designs. He wondered if the toilet was one of those electronic toilets. He hadn’t thoroughly checked, as he was rushing a bit when he was cleaning the toilet. The bookstore was always very clean, and very new, and lots of places, like the movie theater that wasn’t too far away, had automated sinks, where if you waved your hand the water would spray out. If the toilet was like this it would be so weird. Would it immediately flush when he was done, never allowing him to clean up his dirty anus first, or would it wait for him to move his hand over something or what? Mike didn’t want to turn around, even briefly, and check. The mystery of it was how fun it would to realize it when he was done.
There was a creak, and Mike froze. The sound of steps echoed in the small area. Someone was in the bathroom.
Mike frowned, feeling pissed off suddenly. His body didn’t move as he just sat on the stall, waiting for the guy to finish or just leave. It would be so weird if...
A plop-plop revealed the fact that some of Mike’s crap dropped into the water. Mike could then practically hear the guy outside freeze. Next, Mike was certain he heard the guy sniff.
“Um...” A voice, deep and powerful started, “Is someone, er, taking a shit in there?”
Mike hated himself for getting caught. It sucked when something like this happened. So damn embarrassing. The only thing worse would be if he saw the guy.
“Hell yeah I’m taking a shit!” Mike replied with a complete confidence in his voice that he sorely did not feel.
A brief paused, and the guy outside laughed. “Are you serious?”
“Damn right I’m serious,” Mike said, resorting to cussing to give his voice a sense of cockiness. “You want me to prove it to your or what?”
Still laughing, the guy outside said, “Damn man, you’re just talking and taking a dump! Really!”
“Shit, really,” Mike said. There was another plop beneath him, and the guy outside just cracked up.
There was a creak of the door, and the guy outside started leaving, still chuckling and saying something along the line of talking and dumping.
There was a pause, and Mike could still feel a ringing in his ear from the insane conversation he had just been a part of. Sighing, the bathroom had sounded so large and loud, but now dimmed to a silence that seemed to say something was missing.
“Well,” he said aloud, feeling his voice strange in this place, “That was different.”
Grabbing some toilet paper, he rolled a whole bunch of it up in his hand, practically wrapping his hand. Reaching down, he wiped himself, quite hard, and then started at the crap that was now on the toilet paper. Yellow with a hint of brown. He threw it into the toilet, and repeated this twice more, making sure he was clean.
Without flushing, he waddled outside, his pants still on the ground, and then went up to the sink. Really hoping that nobody comes in at this moment, and planning out what would happen if someone did, he turned on the water, automatic he noticed, and started to wash his dick. Satisfied, he brought up his pants and underwear, and returned to the stall, flushing it.
It was not automatic, he noticed.
As he was leaving, he paused, and glanced around. Suddenly, he thought of something, so insane and inane that he wondered what the fuck was wrong with him.
He glanced around, knowing that nobody was there, and then started moving slowly, slyly, shyly. Entering the same stall, he locked the door, and brought his pants down, once more.
However, rather than sitting down on the toiler, he remained standing.
Alicia stood at the counter. After the break, she and Harold had traded places, like always, he taking the customer help desk and now her taking his purchasing counter. It was something of a boring task, one that was riddled with interruptions. Sometimes, you’d go a full hour without any customers buying nothing, and then suddenly five people line up at once and complain about how it takes forever.
Now, she stood there, reading a single book that she held in her hand and chewing some bubblegum. It was always annoying having to stand all the time.
“Hello,” someone said. Placing down the book with an expert and practiced ability, hiding it from view as if it was never there and suddenly bringing her hands back up to make it seem like it was always empty, Alicia greeted the customer.
“Hi,” she said. “What are you purchasing today?”
“Um,” the man started, “this.” He brought forward a considerably thick novel called, Religious Fanatics: How to properly tell them to shut up.
Alicia gave the guy a slight movement of the eyebrows. The guy just gave a small shrug back. Nonchalant, Alicia continued to chew her gum and then scanned the book. Typing in a couple of numbers into the register followed by a jarring ring, Alicia stated, “That will come to nineteen ninety five, sir.”
Nodding, the guy gave her a twenty, and then Alicia flipped back at him a single nickel. The guy started to leave.
Alicia checked him out as he left. A bit very late twenties, maybe as old as mid thirties, he walked with a definite style, to say the least. There wasn’t exactly confidence in how he moved, but definitely assuredness. He had thick, brown hair, and a small mustache that very well complemented him.
“He was sorta hot,” Alicia said. Frowning, she then sighed. “I would so ask him out if my gaydar wasn’t going off the charts.”
“He-hem!” someone grunted, and Alicia turned to her next customer.
“That sounded like a bad cough,” Alicia said. “You need a lozenge?”
“I’d like to purchase this book,” the woman before Alicia surly said.
Giving her a look over, Alicia found the woman short and middle age. The years had not been well for that woman, apparently.
Grabbing the book, Alicia read the cover, Seeking Heterosexuality Through God, and promptly started to snicker uncontrollably.
Getting hard, Mike whipped his dick out. He stood there, in a bathroom, with his dick getting hard.
Mike wondered to himself why exactly was he doing something so retarded as this, but he ignored what he was thinking. There wasn’t that mush blood in his brain at that moment anyways.
He brought his hand down there. No wetting it, no lotion, just nothing but dry, hand and dick masturbation.
I’m in a public place, Mike thought, I’m in a public restroom in some fancy little bookstore somewhere and I’m about to jerk the crap off on a toilet for some goddamned reason.
That was exactly what he needed to get himself completely hard.
I’m a voyeur, Mike thought with some amusement.
His hand caressed his genital, and he tensed up his butt. He started off slow, feeling a little bit of discomfort and generally still knowing exactly where he was.
Porn, he thought, think of some porn or of that girl you did last month or something...
He thought of porn.
Slowly, his method became a generally beating, a general rhythm. It felt good, yeah, it felt normal enough. Still, though, he hadn’t lost himself. Mike knew that when he was just jerking off and not even thinking about that, lost in some pornographic story, that was when he was ready to release. Usually, he never masturbated unless he has some erotic material in front of him to get him off. It was a bit hard at the moment, because he had to constantly remember how the pornography went to stay hard. Also, his hand was getting tired.
Hentai, he thought, referring to the animated and drawn pornography of Japan. He thought of the various, dozens, possibly hundreds of works of erotica he had seen. He lost himself in the stories that he remembered, which had a bit of a tone of forceful sex and raping, as well as lolicon, hentai with children. Nothing got him off better than those genres.
He went faster, and a final jerk released the semen that was stored. He was careful not to get any of his clothes dirty, for he hated of touching his semen after he was finished. Mike continued to masturbate for a couple more moments, until he finished. He stood there, his pants down and part of the toilet covered with his seed. A slight pant, he stared at what he had wrought, unbelieving what he had just done. There was a small sickening feeling inside of him, maybe complemented by that of resignation with who he was, and then a small laugh at how good that felt.
“Sick,” he murmured.
Going outside, careful as to not drip any on his clothing, he cleaned up his hands and his genitals, several times over to make sure that the sperm and the feeling on his hand and dick were gone. Cleaning himself up, he stood there, leaning on the sink and looking at him self in the mirror, and grinned.
“What a twisted day,” he stated.
Alex pushed his girlfriend Arial out of the store, never looking back, with no emotion on his face.
Walking with an air of confidence that he now felt, a mien of satisfaction, Mike walked by one of the stands. He frowned, rolling his eyes at the series before him.
“I can’t believe it’s actually this popular,” he said, inspecting the book and then slamming it down a bit harder than he meant to.
He went over to the adolescence section. Mike could read any genre he wanted. He didn’t read too often, but made it a personal goal of his to read three novels a month. Most anything worked, from the kids section to the hardcore adult books. It was a fun pastime for him.
“More vampires?” He muttered, annoyed. All across the shelf, novels of dark romances and mysterious vampiric males advertised themselves. Sighing, Mike grabbed a random book with an engaging cover, and simply walked away.
As he neared the checkout counter, he spied a very beautiful girl with flowing red hair. Mike saw the badge and uniform stating that she was an employee of the store.
Worse than that, he saw the book she held in her hand, and groaned.
Alicia glanced up, and then gave him a glance. “What?”
Mike pulled his eyes away from the novel in her hands. “Nothing.”
Alicia looked down. “What? You have something against the Midnight Journals?”
Mike shrugged. “It’s so... I mean, come on...”
Alicia laid her book on the counter, and brought her hand to her hips. “So you’re a hater of vampires now, are you?”
“No,” Mike said. “I’m a hater of the dozen or two spawns and copies of that series.”
“So,” Alicia started, “how is that groan against me or my book, or whatever, justified?”
“Whatever,” Mike said. “It’s just that it’s so... damn ugh.”
“Ugh?”
“Yeah, ugh.”
“It’s marketed well,” Alicia defended. “I mean, it’s written exactly for the teenage demographic.”
“Yeah, but it could be a little bit shameless in how it does that.”
“I’m guessing you’re not a girl between the ages of thirteen to thirty five, are you?” Alicia asked.
Mike spread his hands out. “Hey, do I look like it?”
Alicia shrugged, a small grin on her face. “Honey, you tell me.”
Rolling his eyes, Mike said, “I’d like to check this book out,” bringing up the novel.
“This isn’t a library,” Alicia said. “It’s purchasing a book.”
“Fine, whatever, I’d like to buy this book.”
“Purchase, not buy,” Alicia replied.
“Umm... I’m pretty sure the two are the same.”
“Nah,” Alicia said. “Purchase makes one sound intellectual and efficient. Buy is something that you use for the quickie-mart downtown.”
“Fine then,” Mike said, feigning offense. “Madam, would you do me the honor of allowing me to purchase this volume of literary art?”
“Why sir,” Alicia said, going along with it, “I do believe that I will.”
The two chuckled, as Alicia rang up the cash register and Mike paying for it.
Alicia glanced about the guy before her. He was cute enough. Seemed her age. Seemed intellectual, for once, and although he was a trend hater, didn’t seem like an asshole like Harold.
Ew, Harold.
She smiled at him, running her hand across her hair and setting it behind her ear. Guys loved it when she did that, for some reason. She ripped the receipt from the register, and then started to write something in pen on his receipt.
“Here,” she said, giving him the piece of paper. She smiled. Glancing at the paper, Mike cocked his head. Alicia gave a confident grin back.
Walking away, Mike tried to memorize the girl’s number that he had on his piece of paper, along with the flowing writing that marked out her name, Alicia.
Mike smiled. It’d been a pretty nice day, to say the least.
“I swear one of these days I’ll buy something,” Joseph said to the manager that now sat beside him.
The manager, Barney Lornes, gave him a look.
“I’m serious,” Joseph said. “I really feel bad about going here and never buying a book.”
“You really do never buy anything,” Barney said. “I’m quite worried about how you waste your life in here every day.”
“Er, the Starbucks café is good,” Joseph said with a grin.
“Let’s go, Joe,” the manager said. “It’s time to close up. You know how it goes.”
“I swear, I’m going to buy something one of these days.” Joseph stood up, and gave the manager the book he held in his hands.
As he left, Joseph heard from behind him, “And don’t you come back, you heard me?!” Both Joseph and Barney laughed, a ritual that occurs every day.
The twin doors opened and closed as the last customer of the store left.
“So...” Harold started.
Matt, Harold, and Alicia were in the employee’s lounge. Outside, the sky was dark, and stars littered the sky. The clock on the wall stated the time, just one hour before midnight.
“I have a date with Misty,” he said. Sipping at the cup of coffee in his hands.
Matt raised an eyebrow, while Alicia nodded. “About time she got the courage to ask you out,” she said.
“She’d like me for a while?” Harold asked.
Matt grinned. “Dude, she’s had your eyes on you for months.”
“How did you not notice?” Alicia ridiculed.
Harold rubbed his head. “Well, I’d noticed. Umm... At least the last week or so.”
“Thickest head I’d ever seen on male shoulders,” Matt commented.
“I concur,” Alicia said.
Harold rolled his eyes. “Alicia, what did we tell you about using meaninglessly large words when something like “yeah” works just fine?”
“That conversation between our persons took place?” Alicia said, looking surprised. “Why, no recollection of such an episode does reside in my cerebellum!”
“Women,” Matt scoffed.
The store was packed up, it was cleaned up. For the last half hour, the employees had been checking over the shelves and tables within the store, making sure that the many loose books and objects were put back in place. The music still played in the background, despite Alicia’s arguing that it was a horrible piece of crap, and the lights were still on, although some of them were off.
All the other employees had left. Only the three were left, along with the manager. It was quite rough doing the tasks, but the pay was quite well. Matt was the first to leave, saying that he had to go and get drunk, which left Harold and Alicia together, a combination which Alicia quite disliked.
Saying goodbye and parting ways, the two left the store, the place that they worked. Only the manager was left, and when he turned off the music, he was generally done for the day.
At the stroke of midnight, Barney turned off the lights, and started for his car. His cats awaited him at home.
Large, silent, and dark, the bookstore had closed for the day.
When it opens, the manager, who had been there for two hours or so with some of the other employees, goes around and checks up on things. On Sundays, he’ll check up on the shipments of books, and whether they had arrived or not, usually cataloguing them. Thirty minutes before the bookstore officially opens, he’ll have had all these books ordered out, and then will have had turned on the lights. The other employees are working at various miscellaneous activities, such as setting up the posters, cleaning things out, ordering things, various activities such as that.
In one of the offices, Harold Green, one of the employees, is allowed to choose the entire music schedule for the day. He’s very elated at this prospect, as it has been three entire weeks since he has been allowed to choose. Usually, he and Alicia are allowed to choose the music every alternating day, but he had given her the past three weeks in exchange for a blow job that he really, really wanted from her. She had wiped her mouth and spat it out after they’d finished, but her smile from being able to choose seemed to make the act worth it.
It was definitely worth it to him.
Either way, it was his turn now. There was a limited amount of music that they were allowed to choose from. There was no hardcore rap, metal, or any others of similar genre. There was only supposed to be music that complemented the lookers and readers. It was the background music, especially since the sound was naturally toned down. The manager favored classical music, which was all well and dandy, but Harold usually liked something harder, maybe some light hip-hop, blues, jazz, or country. Picking it out, he started playing them through the speakers, even though the store had not officially opened yet.
While she was flipping through some of the adult novels, Alicia heard the music, and rolled her eyes.
At nine of the morning this average Thursday, the store opened. One person was already waiting outside, and Alicia, manning the front desks, welcomed him in. The guy, who was in his mid or late twenties, was named Joseph Hardin. He wore normal, casual clothing, a black turtleneck sweater and some loose jeans. A small black goatee jutted from his chin, and he nodded to Alicia. Alicia, who wore the basic employee clothing, smiled and twirled her fingers back. The guy was always the first into the store, and he was pretty hot as well. She wanted to fuck him.
Joseph glanced through some of the books, running his hands through the spine, feeling a chill up his own. He was a bibliophile, although he didn’t look it, and he basically consumed books. He barely remembered any books he had read even last month, but couldn’t help but continue reading more books. He felt a bit shameful of himself doing this every day, never giving the bookstore any money, but was usually too distracted by the books to notice.
Grabbing a book from the shelf, not even caring what it was, he sat down, and started reading. Already, the title of the book had escaped his mind. His eyes crossed every word, traversing every sentence, casually consuming it. He saw how the main protagonist defeated his foe, foiling the most masterful plot, and didn’t really care. The story never mattered to Joseph. It was the act of reading that was spectacular to him.
Joseph, in his life, has never reread a single book.
So he sat there and finished up his daily helping of novels, whatever the genre.
Roughly fifty minutes after the store had opened, and some people were bustling about, a man came in with a phone to his ear. Named Gerald, he wall tall and solid, a massive man beneath the expensive grey suit he wore. He brought nothing in his hands except the cellphone, to which he used continuously. He spoke softly, though, but with strength, as to not disturb the other patrons. Most ignored him, although one or two gave him a look, as if being so large was a crime. He ignored them. He always did. He’d had thirty years of practice ignoring people.
Gerald passed by Harold as he went to one of the sections of the bookstore, the self-help section. He said, “Well, yeah, I see it, bye,” to his phone, and then promptly closed it, giving no care that it was a five hundred dollar phone. The tip of his finger touched the edge of a book, which he reread to make sure he got to right book, and then two fingers gripped the cover of the book as he pulled it out from the shelf.
The book read: Managing Anger: Proper Workplace Etiquette, 2nd edition.
A woman right next to him, who was pulling out an inspirational book that told people that they had to trust themselves, because they obviously couldn’t listen to their friends and family’s advice, gave him a look. The woman, seeing how large he was, gave him another glance, finding him almost two feet taller and with many, many muscles. She saw the expensive looking cellphone at his side, and the suit that was probably three times as expensive. She saw the book.
She started edging away.
Gerald didn’t sigh or anything, he was used to it. The book was not actually something that he needed, or would have ever thought of needing, ever, but he told his wife about the seminar at work that dealed with anger management. He had never gotten a demerit or reprimand of any kind relating to that, but his peers, unbeknownst to him, were always a bit scared that he would be angry, and sent him anyways. They never actually noticed how softly he spoke, just the fact that he smiled rarely.
So, his wife, believing that her husband’s colleagues believed him to have anger issues, promptly told him to go to the bookstore and buy it. Even though he actually was a foot and a half taller than his wife’s thin, fragile body, he had sighed, and said, “Yes ma’am,” and had went to the bookstore.
Gerald now brought the single book up to the counter, which earned him blank stare from Harold. Gerald glared back, and Harold glanced away, finishing the purchase and then giving the large, large man a mumbled, “And have a good day,” as the man left the store.
An hour later, a woman was pushed in. Arial Lindsey told her boyfriend, Alex Grin, “Let’s go to the sci-fi section.” Alex smiled at her and nodded, pushing open the second set of doors and then rolling her forward. Step after step, there was a small, almost unnoticeable creak in the wheelchair that nobody really noticed, but sounded like a massive screech to Alex. Still, he continued onwards, asking the personal manning the desk where the section was and then faithfully following the duty given to him, pushing Arial forwards.
Nearing one of the books, Arial reached out, but was confined to the space in her wheelchair. She frowned, and strained forward, until Alex finally to a step forwards and grabbed it from the shelf. Arial gave him a beaming smile, and then took the book to her laps. Glancing around, Alex finally found a nice, suitable spot for them to settle at.
People looked. They always looked. Wherever they went, someone would remark to Arial that she was in a wheelchair, as if she didn’t notice. Arial, if she was in one of those moods, would then make a joke about it, and the commenter would walk away, embarrassed but with an inexplicable hint of anger that they were spoken to like that by a cripple. Others would try and make Arial feel better, often lowering themselves slightly to bring their heads to the same level as that of Arial. Honestly, she thought that those type of people were worse, and usually made Alex push her past them, not even deigning to reply.
In this case, it was quite nice that the tall bookshelves hid her from most of the people, until they settled at the place in the corner. Lightly, like the princess she once was before the accident, Arial opened up the book, and started reading. Alex took out a novel on the shelf, and began to flip through it, his eyes passing the pages without a second thought. He stood there, by her side, like a knight awaiting princess. He didn’t do anything, just read with her, until she got finished or until she was bored.
At two in the afternoon, it was time for the break for Harold, Alicia, and two others. The two went out to the back, where a brief argument ensued.
“Harold,” Alicia said, “You go get some the Starbucks drinks.”
“I concur with her statement,” Matt said. “You be the bitch today.”
“Er, no?” Harold started. “I got it yesterday. Remember...?”
“You chose the music today,” Alicia said with a smug look. Harold shot her a dark look.
“You two are the only ones the manager lets choose the music, and seeing as I’m a gentleman, I would never dare let a fair woman such as Alicia do such a menial task,” Matt said with a flowing tongue and a arrogant grin. “That’s why you be the bitch.”
“Argh, whatever,” Harold conceded, he turned and started to leave, as the other began to shout their orders at him.
“Carmel Macchiato, venti!” Alicia yelled.
“Misto, 140 degrees!” Matt yelled.
The other store employee, Ki’ren had been eyeing the conversation with an amused eye, now perked up and said, “Chai Latte!”
Rolling his eyes, Harold waved at them as he passed the threshold of the employee door. He took a glance around, and found the Starbucks café at the corner of the bookstore, where an area was squared off with a classic Starbucks feel. The sign was huge, and faint brew of coffee could be smelt by Harold as he neared.
He frowned as he saw the line; there were four people in front of him, which made the wait annoying. The manager had forbidden the store employees from cutting in the Starbucks line, so it was somewhat ridiculous that someone wearing a store uniform had to stand there, looking stupid.
There was a wave of someone’s hand. Harold leaned to the left slightly, and found Misty working at the Starbucks counter. He smiled at her and waved back. She gave him a smile, and finished up the next order in the line.
When it was his turn to order, Harold gave a smile and asked, “What, no classes today?”
Misty shrugged, still giving a cheerful grin. “I’d finished up the class with Mr. Winder and Sohmer in the morning. I’ll be doing the shift here from now till eight or so.”
“Winder’s class still a bitch?” Harold inquired.
Misty nodded, her grin finally receding for a moment. “Yeah, I’ve so gotta finish the science project there. You wanna help me out?” she said with a coy glance.
Harold pretended to think for a moment. “I don’t know, I have finished all the credits I need for that class... What do I get if I help you out?” he said, leaning on the counter and bringing their faces close together. Misty gave a small laugh at his flirtation, which she welcomed very much.
“Friday night,” she ventured, a little anxiety on her face. “I’m free then.”
Harold gave a small cock of his head, and grinned. “Alright then,” he said, quite happy to finally be going out with her. “Maybe a more romantic place could have made the proposal better, but Friday works just fine.”
Misty blushed and smiled. “What, Starbucks isn’t romantic?” she asked.
“No,” a voice from behind Harold stated, “It is not, and therefore, can you please hurry up and order, I’m not getting any bit younger!”
Harold turned around, to see an old man waiting in line, giving both him and Misty a deathly frown. Harold turned back to Misty, and they both gave a smile and shrug, as if saying, “What are you going to do?”
Then, with a bit more of the workplace jolly than usual, Misty smiled and said, “Hello, welcome to Starbucks, may I please have your order?”
At four in the afternoon, a boy walked in. He was sixteen years old, and one could see it as well. Acne and pimples swelled on his brow, mercifully hidden by the long black hair that crossed his face. Thin and gangly, he walked with a hunch, not eyeing anyone in the face. Passing by Alicia, he actually have her, and more accurate her red hair, a glance, but looked away when she noticed and returned it. Alicia’s eyes followed him for another second, before returning to her book. Emo boys didn’t interest her, although his obvious youth was somewhat of a turn on.
His name is Erin.
Erin walked forward, into a section not oft visited by those of his age. He glanced at the titles and authors of the shelf, muttering through bated breath, “Noxt, Noxt...” Finally, he found the author, his favorite fantasy novelist of all times, Narxt Noxt, obviously a pseudonym. Checking out the row of books there, Erin found the next installment in the author’s latest series.
He grabbed the book, and then glanced around. He started towards the left side of the bookstore, which was on the opposite side of the Starbucks café. A tall series of bookshelves line that side, perpendicular to the wall, so there was some privacy. The wall itself was glass, and revealed the outside, a view that Erin always liked.
Erin sniffled as he neared the wall, and his stuffy nose started acting up again. His left nostril closed, until barely a wisp of air could escape. As he sat down on an empty wooden chair right next to the bookshelf, the other nostril started to have some sinus problems as well. When he tried to breath through his noses, the left one didn’t work too well and the right one gave a feeling that some snot was clogging it up. Erin wiped at his nose, to no avail, and then started breathing through his mouth.
Ignoring this, Erin focused his attention to the book that he now held in his hands. Erin opened the cover reverently, and then started reading it, savoring every word that he read.
After ten minutes or so, his right nostril started running. Trying to push some air out through his nose, Erin felt the feeling that there was lots of snot wedged up in there. Placing a finger to plug up his left nostril, Erin pushed a hard blast of air out through that nostril, freeing the white snot that was stuck in there.
“Stupid allergies,” he said, belying the fact that it was spring and lots of pollen floated around. Shaking his head, he found the snot on the floor of the store, right next to him. Glancing around, he was quite happy he chose this spot, where privacy could be found.
His right nostril suddenly clogged up, which a piercing feeling was made through his left nostril. A slight breath of air revealed some more mucus in that nasal area, and using his left thumb, picked at his nose. Taking his thumb out, a line of phlegm trailed down. He wiped it on the shelf that he was right next to, playing with it for a brief moment as he expanded the area of the snot, thinning it out so that it was less noticeable if anyone were to come here. Picking his hand back up, he noticed much small bits of dirt and debris stuck to his recently wetted thumb. He rubbed it at his jacket, and then continued reading.
As he finally finished with the book, which was shorter than he would have liked, Erin wetted his lips, noticing that breathing through his mouth made it dry and a bit cracked. Placing the book on a random shelf next to him, Erin started to leave the store, sneaking another glance at the beautiful red hair of Alicia again as he exited.
At five, someone opened the two doors of the bookstore. The bookstore had a foyer where two stands flanked the sides, giving propaganda to all those that entered, and then a second set of doors right past it. For both the doors, the person that walking in pushed both of the doors open, walking right in the middle and letting the doors close behind him.
Moving with a certainly showing how well versed he was to where everything was located in the store, he went to the back corner of the room. Passing the comics and manga section, the entered a threshold where two water fountains lied on wait for any feeling thirsty, and three more doors stood in dimmed light. The middle one seemed to be a closet of sorts, and ignoring that, he entered the one farthest in, where a sign on the door said, “Men’s room.”
The music that was playing lightly in the background, a jazzy little song, faded out as he entered the bathroom. He waited as he entered, pausing, listening for any signs that others were there. A small sound of a drop of water splashing against the marble surface of the sink, that was all that could be heard. He sighed, feeling relieved. He hated going to the bathroom when anyone else was there.
Opening the door to one of the stalls, he turned and then pushed the lock on. Then, he check to make sure that the toilet paper was there, and feeling content that it was, looked at the rim of the toiler. A small of yellowish water could be seen, and he sighed.
“You just had to choose this stall, didn’t you, Mike?” he said to himself. Opening the stall again, he ripped a large wad of toilet paper, brought it to the sink, and slightly saturated it with water. Bringing it back to the rim of the toiler, he wiped at it, making sure that none of it touched him, and then throwing the wad of dirty papers into the toilet itself. Grabbing some more paper, he repeated this, and then used a final turn to wipe at the rim with dry paper, making sure it was clean. Going to the sink and washing his hands, with soap, he went back to the toilet stall, locked the door, removed his jeans and letting it fall to the ground, he proceeded to take a dump.
A young girl named Marisa walked into the store. One could easily tell that she was barely post pubescent, with still forming breasts in her training bra and a height that was still short. Glancing around, Marisa walked towards the kids section of the bookstore, located in the back of the store, and then searched around. Marisa grinned as she found her father.
Tugging on his sleeves, which brought his attention to her, Marisa said in Japanese, “Let’s go home, father.”
Sighing, the man placed down the novel he held in his hands, named Chappie the Frog: The Many Adventures Of Your Amphibious Friend. Replying in their own language, the man said, “Will your mother let me back?”
Marisa simply said with the same simplicity, “Let’s go.”
With an ache in his bones, the man got. The two started to leave the store, a Japanese man at perfect Japanese height of barely five foot six and his little daughter holding on to his hand.
There aren’t that many things to do while one is taking a dump in the stall of a bookstore. Mike knew this, but it was an hour walk from his home to the store; a sudden urge to take a dump overtook him as he had neared the store, and like hell was he about to walk back home.
The stall was considerably small. Mike traced the surprisingly intricate designs on the stall walls, seeing the green and many shades of it coloring the walls. He saw the tiled floor, admiring and wondering how people make such random tile designs. He wondered if the toilet was one of those electronic toilets. He hadn’t thoroughly checked, as he was rushing a bit when he was cleaning the toilet. The bookstore was always very clean, and very new, and lots of places, like the movie theater that wasn’t too far away, had automated sinks, where if you waved your hand the water would spray out. If the toilet was like this it would be so weird. Would it immediately flush when he was done, never allowing him to clean up his dirty anus first, or would it wait for him to move his hand over something or what? Mike didn’t want to turn around, even briefly, and check. The mystery of it was how fun it would to realize it when he was done.
There was a creak, and Mike froze. The sound of steps echoed in the small area. Someone was in the bathroom.
Mike frowned, feeling pissed off suddenly. His body didn’t move as he just sat on the stall, waiting for the guy to finish or just leave. It would be so weird if...
A plop-plop revealed the fact that some of Mike’s crap dropped into the water. Mike could then practically hear the guy outside freeze. Next, Mike was certain he heard the guy sniff.
“Um...” A voice, deep and powerful started, “Is someone, er, taking a shit in there?”
Mike hated himself for getting caught. It sucked when something like this happened. So damn embarrassing. The only thing worse would be if he saw the guy.
“Hell yeah I’m taking a shit!” Mike replied with a complete confidence in his voice that he sorely did not feel.
A brief paused, and the guy outside laughed. “Are you serious?”
“Damn right I’m serious,” Mike said, resorting to cussing to give his voice a sense of cockiness. “You want me to prove it to your or what?”
Still laughing, the guy outside said, “Damn man, you’re just talking and taking a dump! Really!”
“Shit, really,” Mike said. There was another plop beneath him, and the guy outside just cracked up.
There was a creak of the door, and the guy outside started leaving, still chuckling and saying something along the line of talking and dumping.
There was a pause, and Mike could still feel a ringing in his ear from the insane conversation he had just been a part of. Sighing, the bathroom had sounded so large and loud, but now dimmed to a silence that seemed to say something was missing.
“Well,” he said aloud, feeling his voice strange in this place, “That was different.”
Grabbing some toilet paper, he rolled a whole bunch of it up in his hand, practically wrapping his hand. Reaching down, he wiped himself, quite hard, and then started at the crap that was now on the toilet paper. Yellow with a hint of brown. He threw it into the toilet, and repeated this twice more, making sure he was clean.
Without flushing, he waddled outside, his pants still on the ground, and then went up to the sink. Really hoping that nobody comes in at this moment, and planning out what would happen if someone did, he turned on the water, automatic he noticed, and started to wash his dick. Satisfied, he brought up his pants and underwear, and returned to the stall, flushing it.
It was not automatic, he noticed.
As he was leaving, he paused, and glanced around. Suddenly, he thought of something, so insane and inane that he wondered what the fuck was wrong with him.
He glanced around, knowing that nobody was there, and then started moving slowly, slyly, shyly. Entering the same stall, he locked the door, and brought his pants down, once more.
However, rather than sitting down on the toiler, he remained standing.
Alicia stood at the counter. After the break, she and Harold had traded places, like always, he taking the customer help desk and now her taking his purchasing counter. It was something of a boring task, one that was riddled with interruptions. Sometimes, you’d go a full hour without any customers buying nothing, and then suddenly five people line up at once and complain about how it takes forever.
Now, she stood there, reading a single book that she held in her hand and chewing some bubblegum. It was always annoying having to stand all the time.
“Hello,” someone said. Placing down the book with an expert and practiced ability, hiding it from view as if it was never there and suddenly bringing her hands back up to make it seem like it was always empty, Alicia greeted the customer.
“Hi,” she said. “What are you purchasing today?”
“Um,” the man started, “this.” He brought forward a considerably thick novel called, Religious Fanatics: How to properly tell them to shut up.
Alicia gave the guy a slight movement of the eyebrows. The guy just gave a small shrug back. Nonchalant, Alicia continued to chew her gum and then scanned the book. Typing in a couple of numbers into the register followed by a jarring ring, Alicia stated, “That will come to nineteen ninety five, sir.”
Nodding, the guy gave her a twenty, and then Alicia flipped back at him a single nickel. The guy started to leave.
Alicia checked him out as he left. A bit very late twenties, maybe as old as mid thirties, he walked with a definite style, to say the least. There wasn’t exactly confidence in how he moved, but definitely assuredness. He had thick, brown hair, and a small mustache that very well complemented him.
“He was sorta hot,” Alicia said. Frowning, she then sighed. “I would so ask him out if my gaydar wasn’t going off the charts.”
“He-hem!” someone grunted, and Alicia turned to her next customer.
“That sounded like a bad cough,” Alicia said. “You need a lozenge?”
“I’d like to purchase this book,” the woman before Alicia surly said.
Giving her a look over, Alicia found the woman short and middle age. The years had not been well for that woman, apparently.
Grabbing the book, Alicia read the cover, Seeking Heterosexuality Through God, and promptly started to snicker uncontrollably.
Getting hard, Mike whipped his dick out. He stood there, in a bathroom, with his dick getting hard.
Mike wondered to himself why exactly was he doing something so retarded as this, but he ignored what he was thinking. There wasn’t that mush blood in his brain at that moment anyways.
He brought his hand down there. No wetting it, no lotion, just nothing but dry, hand and dick masturbation.
I’m in a public place, Mike thought, I’m in a public restroom in some fancy little bookstore somewhere and I’m about to jerk the crap off on a toilet for some goddamned reason.
That was exactly what he needed to get himself completely hard.
I’m a voyeur, Mike thought with some amusement.
His hand caressed his genital, and he tensed up his butt. He started off slow, feeling a little bit of discomfort and generally still knowing exactly where he was.
Porn, he thought, think of some porn or of that girl you did last month or something...
He thought of porn.
Slowly, his method became a generally beating, a general rhythm. It felt good, yeah, it felt normal enough. Still, though, he hadn’t lost himself. Mike knew that when he was just jerking off and not even thinking about that, lost in some pornographic story, that was when he was ready to release. Usually, he never masturbated unless he has some erotic material in front of him to get him off. It was a bit hard at the moment, because he had to constantly remember how the pornography went to stay hard. Also, his hand was getting tired.
Hentai, he thought, referring to the animated and drawn pornography of Japan. He thought of the various, dozens, possibly hundreds of works of erotica he had seen. He lost himself in the stories that he remembered, which had a bit of a tone of forceful sex and raping, as well as lolicon, hentai with children. Nothing got him off better than those genres.
He went faster, and a final jerk released the semen that was stored. He was careful not to get any of his clothes dirty, for he hated of touching his semen after he was finished. Mike continued to masturbate for a couple more moments, until he finished. He stood there, his pants down and part of the toilet covered with his seed. A slight pant, he stared at what he had wrought, unbelieving what he had just done. There was a small sickening feeling inside of him, maybe complemented by that of resignation with who he was, and then a small laugh at how good that felt.
“Sick,” he murmured.
Going outside, careful as to not drip any on his clothing, he cleaned up his hands and his genitals, several times over to make sure that the sperm and the feeling on his hand and dick were gone. Cleaning himself up, he stood there, leaning on the sink and looking at him self in the mirror, and grinned.
“What a twisted day,” he stated.
Alex pushed his girlfriend Arial out of the store, never looking back, with no emotion on his face.
Walking with an air of confidence that he now felt, a mien of satisfaction, Mike walked by one of the stands. He frowned, rolling his eyes at the series before him.
“I can’t believe it’s actually this popular,” he said, inspecting the book and then slamming it down a bit harder than he meant to.
He went over to the adolescence section. Mike could read any genre he wanted. He didn’t read too often, but made it a personal goal of his to read three novels a month. Most anything worked, from the kids section to the hardcore adult books. It was a fun pastime for him.
“More vampires?” He muttered, annoyed. All across the shelf, novels of dark romances and mysterious vampiric males advertised themselves. Sighing, Mike grabbed a random book with an engaging cover, and simply walked away.
As he neared the checkout counter, he spied a very beautiful girl with flowing red hair. Mike saw the badge and uniform stating that she was an employee of the store.
Worse than that, he saw the book she held in her hand, and groaned.
Alicia glanced up, and then gave him a glance. “What?”
Mike pulled his eyes away from the novel in her hands. “Nothing.”
Alicia looked down. “What? You have something against the Midnight Journals?”
Mike shrugged. “It’s so... I mean, come on...”
Alicia laid her book on the counter, and brought her hand to her hips. “So you’re a hater of vampires now, are you?”
“No,” Mike said. “I’m a hater of the dozen or two spawns and copies of that series.”
“So,” Alicia started, “how is that groan against me or my book, or whatever, justified?”
“Whatever,” Mike said. “It’s just that it’s so... damn ugh.”
“Ugh?”
“Yeah, ugh.”
“It’s marketed well,” Alicia defended. “I mean, it’s written exactly for the teenage demographic.”
“Yeah, but it could be a little bit shameless in how it does that.”
“I’m guessing you’re not a girl between the ages of thirteen to thirty five, are you?” Alicia asked.
Mike spread his hands out. “Hey, do I look like it?”
Alicia shrugged, a small grin on her face. “Honey, you tell me.”
Rolling his eyes, Mike said, “I’d like to check this book out,” bringing up the novel.
“This isn’t a library,” Alicia said. “It’s purchasing a book.”
“Fine, whatever, I’d like to buy this book.”
“Purchase, not buy,” Alicia replied.
“Umm... I’m pretty sure the two are the same.”
“Nah,” Alicia said. “Purchase makes one sound intellectual and efficient. Buy is something that you use for the quickie-mart downtown.”
“Fine then,” Mike said, feigning offense. “Madam, would you do me the honor of allowing me to purchase this volume of literary art?”
“Why sir,” Alicia said, going along with it, “I do believe that I will.”
The two chuckled, as Alicia rang up the cash register and Mike paying for it.
Alicia glanced about the guy before her. He was cute enough. Seemed her age. Seemed intellectual, for once, and although he was a trend hater, didn’t seem like an asshole like Harold.
Ew, Harold.
She smiled at him, running her hand across her hair and setting it behind her ear. Guys loved it when she did that, for some reason. She ripped the receipt from the register, and then started to write something in pen on his receipt.
“Here,” she said, giving him the piece of paper. She smiled. Glancing at the paper, Mike cocked his head. Alicia gave a confident grin back.
Walking away, Mike tried to memorize the girl’s number that he had on his piece of paper, along with the flowing writing that marked out her name, Alicia.
Mike smiled. It’d been a pretty nice day, to say the least.
“I swear one of these days I’ll buy something,” Joseph said to the manager that now sat beside him.
The manager, Barney Lornes, gave him a look.
“I’m serious,” Joseph said. “I really feel bad about going here and never buying a book.”
“You really do never buy anything,” Barney said. “I’m quite worried about how you waste your life in here every day.”
“Er, the Starbucks café is good,” Joseph said with a grin.
“Let’s go, Joe,” the manager said. “It’s time to close up. You know how it goes.”
“I swear, I’m going to buy something one of these days.” Joseph stood up, and gave the manager the book he held in his hands.
As he left, Joseph heard from behind him, “And don’t you come back, you heard me?!” Both Joseph and Barney laughed, a ritual that occurs every day.
The twin doors opened and closed as the last customer of the store left.
“So...” Harold started.
Matt, Harold, and Alicia were in the employee’s lounge. Outside, the sky was dark, and stars littered the sky. The clock on the wall stated the time, just one hour before midnight.
“I have a date with Misty,” he said. Sipping at the cup of coffee in his hands.
Matt raised an eyebrow, while Alicia nodded. “About time she got the courage to ask you out,” she said.
“She’d like me for a while?” Harold asked.
Matt grinned. “Dude, she’s had your eyes on you for months.”
“How did you not notice?” Alicia ridiculed.
Harold rubbed his head. “Well, I’d noticed. Umm... At least the last week or so.”
“Thickest head I’d ever seen on male shoulders,” Matt commented.
“I concur,” Alicia said.
Harold rolled his eyes. “Alicia, what did we tell you about using meaninglessly large words when something like “yeah” works just fine?”
“That conversation between our persons took place?” Alicia said, looking surprised. “Why, no recollection of such an episode does reside in my cerebellum!”
“Women,” Matt scoffed.
The store was packed up, it was cleaned up. For the last half hour, the employees had been checking over the shelves and tables within the store, making sure that the many loose books and objects were put back in place. The music still played in the background, despite Alicia’s arguing that it was a horrible piece of crap, and the lights were still on, although some of them were off.
All the other employees had left. Only the three were left, along with the manager. It was quite rough doing the tasks, but the pay was quite well. Matt was the first to leave, saying that he had to go and get drunk, which left Harold and Alicia together, a combination which Alicia quite disliked.
Saying goodbye and parting ways, the two left the store, the place that they worked. Only the manager was left, and when he turned off the music, he was generally done for the day.
At the stroke of midnight, Barney turned off the lights, and started for his car. His cats awaited him at home.
Large, silent, and dark, the bookstore had closed for the day.
Because of the huge wall of text here (over 6000 words), coupled with the poor formatting capabilities of a forum post, and my laziness to edit a couple dozen paragraphs, I've included a pdf file for you to read it on your own time, if you so choose to do. It's in a .rar file, so you'll have to extract it.