Feel so guilty that you put the swimsuit back
From Create Your Own Story
"That was close," you mutter. You look around furtively and spot another security guard strolling through the stores toward you. The sight panics you, and you dig out the bikini and toss it into a display before rushing out the store. You're not sure if he saw you so you keep walking, expecting at any moment to feel a hand clamp down on your shoulder.
It isn't until you reach the food court that you stop walking. The smells remind you that, as usual, you didn't eat a thing that morning. You look around at the open booths, trying to decide what you might want.Eventually you decide on a place that sells pancakes.
"What'll it be?" the guy behind the counter asks. He's kind of a loser, no muscles, looking like he eats a lot of the leftovers. He's probably just eighteen, a year older than your dream-guy Steven, and four years older than you. 'A drop-out,' you think with a sneer. 'What a loser'. His face darkens as if he's reading your mind.
"I want a stack of blueberry buttermilk pancakes with maple syrup. REAL maple," you say, just to make his life difficult.
He narrows his eyes at you but nods. "I'll have to get some from the back," he says.
"Well then I guess you'd better do that," you tell him.
"I will. After you pay. Nine ninety-eight please," he said smugly.
"What? There's no way it's that much!"
"What can I say? Real maple syrup is expensive, and the blueberry crop was terrible this year."
You can't tell if he's lying, so after a few seconds of staring suspiciously at him you start digging in your purse. Pencil, makeup, comb, receipt, lipstick, oh there's that hall pass you couldn't find... You got a detention for not being able to produce it. The injustice still rankles. To make it worse that creep Ron kept sticking his hand up your skirt in detention until you decided to just flash him. The little creep took a photo of you showing your bare cunnie with his phone.
"Miss," the idiot behind the counter brings you out of your reverie.
Math test with an F on it, a pen, a fossilized carrot - yech - a handful of used condoms - ew - you couldn't figure out why guys kept giving them to you so you kept them, certain they had a reason they'd make clear in time. Like it was part of a game, or they contained something like drugs. When you licked one clean it just tasted like old cum. Then of course you panicked, thinking the guys would ask for it and get mad one was missing, so you let that creepy janitor fuck you while wearing the condom. At least no one saw the two of you doing it in the photography classroom and all the cameras' lights were red instead of green, which means they were turned off and charging.
The guy behind the counter clears his throat. Your face turns red and , quickly shoving them deep into the depths. Oh there's your cell phone! You've been looking all over for it, wanting to downloads those pictures you took of yourself making out with Lizzie. If the fat nerd didn't have a copy of the upcoming math test you'd have never gone down on her or let her use those gigantic strap-ons, not to mention all the other things. Come to think of it, that was the same test you got the F on! You had to suck & fuck that old goat of a math teacher. His was easily the most disgusting cock you'd ever sucked and fucked. Average in length, but wide as a can of pop and covered in those weird sores. At least you didn't have to do it a week later when your cunt felt all itchy and your mouth had a couple cold sores.
"Should've gotten a C for that," you muttered.
"Hey look, are you paying or not?"
"Jesus, someone's panties are way too tight today," you say, putting the phone on the counter so you won't lose it again. You crow in triumph as you find your wallet. How it got to the bottom of the bag after you'd just used it you'll never understand, but at least you found it. You've had to let the bus driver from school feel you up because you couldn't find your wallet with your student ID in it. Oh look, a picture of Steven! You brighten at the sight of him, your loins going all juicy. Then a frown crosses your face because he has his hand on the tit of that skank Rosalind. You bet she'd never do the things you'd let him do to you if he'd just go out with you. That's why you needed the bikini in the first place. With a big pancake breakfast you'll be able to put the old brain cells to work and figure out how to get the money for it.
You push the photo back in, surprised to feel another behind it. Pulling it out you see a picture of yourself blowing Jackson Greer. The slime. You were flunking grade eight and he swore he could change your grades to a passing grade. He did, but the asshole lowered your higher marks down to bare passes too. They stuck you in remedial classes because of that twit. People thought you were a retard for the first two months of school until your teacher finally put you up a level to the academic rating that meant you were merely 'dumb'. You had to sleep with him almost every day, but you finally got this picture and blackmailed him into letting you go. You smile with satisfaction as you put it back, and finally turn to your money.
"Oh shit," you blurt.
"Problem?" the sleaze behind the counter asks in a bored tone. You notice he's taken to playing with his cell phone. Damn, you have the same model in your bag somewhere, you think, disturbed that the two of you have anything in common beyond both being (probably) human.
"I, uh, I don't have any money. I gave it to a security guard." you admit. Saying the words makes you nauseous. Or maybe you're just hungry. "Dammit," you mutter, throwing the wallet on the counter and turning to look around the food court. "I shouldn't have paid the guard after stealing that fucking bikini."
Now you're going to have to figure out a way to get food as well as a bikini. Maybe even some new clothes or makeup so you can look really good for Steven. "He'd better have a huge dick," you mutter again.
