B&M Bargain Babe | NEON LIT

B&M on a Tuesday afternoon—desperate housewife territory. I was only there for a new garden chair, but Jordan in the blue polo had other ideas.

She was floor manager, according to her badge. Curvy in her early thirties, probably, with bleached hair in a messy bun, fake tan, and nails that could take someone's eye out.

"Looking for something specific, hun?" She appeared beside me in the garden furniture aisle, clipboard in hand.

"Just a chair."

"Boring." She looked me up and down, subtle but obvious. "Let me guess—single lad, first flat, need to make the balcony look less tragic?"

"Nailed it."

"I'm good at reading people." She stepped closer, lowered her voice. "I'm also good at spotting when someone's looking at more than the furniture."

"What if I am?"

"Then you should follow me to the warehouse in five minutes. Back left corner, behind the outdoor storage boxes."

The warehouse was massive, filled with pallets and shrink-wrapped goods. She was waiting exactly where she said, already unbuttoning her polo.

"Lock the door behind you. We've got maybe fifteen minutes before anyone notices."

I locked it, turned to find her leaning against a stack of boxes in just her bra—red, lacy, struggling to contain tits that deserved their own postcode.

"Like what you see?"

"Fucking love it."

She pulled me close, kissed me hard. She tasted like cheap lip gloss and confidence.

"Been watching you since you walked in," she admitted between kisses. "Something about a man who knows what he wants. Even if it's just a garden chair."

"What if I want more than a chair now?"

"Then you better come get it."

Her bra came off, revealing heavy tits with dark nipples. I buried my face there while she worked at my jeans.

"Shit—been needing this—work's been hell—"

"Let me help with that."

I spun her around, bent her over the boxes. Her work trousers came down, revealing a thong that matched her bra. I pulled it aside, found her already wet.

"Don't tease. Just fuck me."

I slid in and she muffled a moan against her arm. Started slow, let her adjust, then picked up the pace when she pushed back against me.

"Harder—yeah—like that—"

The boxes shook with each thrust. Somewhere in the distance, a forklift beeped. Neither of us stopped.

"Gonna cum—fuck—so good—"

She came with a shudder, clenching around me. I followed seconds later, gripping her hips hard enough to leave marks.

We cleaned up quickly, both smiling like idiots.

"Best shift I've had in months," she said, buttoning her polo. "You should come by more often. Tuesday's always dead."

"Same time next week?"

"I'll be in the garden section." She kissed me once more. "Now wait five minutes before you leave. And buy that chair so it doesn't look suspicious."

I walked out with a chair, her number, and a reason to love Tuesdays.

Big savings indeed.