I work in retail, a slow, quiet store where I tend to help dudes and some older gentlemen. petite and 5’ it isn’t foreign for me to get hit on, some customers even catching onto the fact that we’re understaffed, and I’m alone more often than not.

it’d be a problem if I wasn’t such a s***.

nowadays, each time I’m alone at work, I listen for every chime of the door in hopes that the next guy who walks in will be coming to back me into a corner, a wicked smile on his face in consequence of my altruistic kindness. he’d push me over the displays I spend all day tidying, rip open my uniform and soil the appearance that I keep pressed and preened day-by-day in respect for my job’s professionalism.

is it so shameful for me to believe I’m the light of some of these guys days?

maybe it’d be a group of guys, ones who’d previously been taunted by me alone once before. perhaps they’d have a plan, one outside to create a distraction and another up front to keep watch. perhaps they’d take turn then, cycling roles, so they each got a taste of me. if my coworker were there maybe someone would distract him, and or maybe he’d willing join on his own.

it’s not like my job has cameras,

if at the end of it all they tugged up my p******, pat my a**, and asked me to finish the rest of my shift with their shared spend between my legs, I’d still do it with a friendly smile on my face.