Argos Appointment

Waiting at Argos collection was purgatory. Staring at the little screen, watching your number inch closer, surrounded by knackered parents and their screaming kids.

A47. A48. A49.

I was A73. Kill me.

"You look like you're dying."

The voice came from behind the counter. The girl at the till was grinning at me—curvy, brown skin, natural hair in big bouncy curls, work uniform doing nothing to hide her figure.

"I'm A73," I said. "Been here twenty minutes."

"Ohhh. You ordered the home gym equipment. Yeah, that's in the back of the warehouse." She winced sympathetically. "Gonna be a while."

"Fantastic."

"Tell you what—" She leaned on the counter, giving me an excellent view down her polo shirt. "I'm on break in five. Help me bring it out and you can skip the queue."

"That's allowed?"

"It is when you're mates with the warehouse supervisor." She grinned. "I'm Priya. Meet me round the back in five?"

The warehouse was massive—industrial shelving reaching to the ceiling, forklifts beeping, the chaos of retail operations in full swing.

Priya was waiting by a pallet stacked with boxes.

"Right, that's your stuff," she said. "Should really get a trolley, but..." She looked around, then back at me. "Actually, hang on. Let me show you something first."

She led me through the shelves, past stacks of TVs and mountains of cheap furniture, to a quiet corner hidden behind a wall of boxed trampolines.

"Dead zone," she explained. "No cameras, no foot traffic. We come here for smoke breaks."

"You smoke?"

"No. But I do other things." She stepped closer, that grin turning into something more dangerous. "You're fit. Been watching you wait and thinking about what I'd do if I got you alone."

"And now?"

"Now I'm gonna find out."

She kissed me, all softness and warmth, her curls tickling my face. She tasted like mint and cherry lip gloss.

"This okay?" she breathed.

"Very okay."

Her hands were at my belt, nimble and quick. She dropped to her knees, looking up at me with dark eyes.

"Been a slow day. Need something to wake me up."

She took me in her mouth, and I had to grab the shelving behind me for support. Warm, wet, her tongue swirling in ways that made my knees weak.

"Fuck—Priya—"

She hummed around me, the vibration sending shockwaves. I could feel myself getting close.

"Wait—want to—"

She pulled off, stood, wiggled out of her work trousers. Her knickers were bright pink, and she pulled them aside without taking them off.

"Quick," she said. "Break's almost over."

I lifted her—she was heavier than she looked, all that curve had weight to it—and pressed her against the shelving. She guided me in, both of us groaning.

"Fuck, you're big—"

"You're tight—"

We moved together, urgent and desperate. The shelving rattled behind us, boxes shifting dangerously.

"Harder—come on—make me feel it—"

I gave her everything, pounding into her while she clung to my shoulders. Her moans were getting louder, less controlled.

"Gonna cum—fuck—already—"

She came with a gasp, her whole body shuddering. The feeling of her pulsing around me pushed me over.

"Pull out—on my stomach—"

I did, finishing on her soft belly. She grinned down at it, thoroughly pleased with herself.

We cleaned up with tissues from her pocket ("Always prepared," she said), and she led me back to my home gym equipment like nothing had happened.

"There you go," she said, back in professional mode. "Need help loading it to your car?"

"I think I can manage."

"Shame." She slipped a piece of paper into my hand. "Call me sometime. Maybe I can give you a demonstration. Of the equipment, I mean."

"Just the equipment?"

She winked. "Maybe some additional services."

I loaded my boxes, drove home, and immediately texted the number.

Best Argos trip of my life.