Poundland Quickie

Poundland at half seven on a Monday evening was my rock bottom. Standing in the toiletries aisle, genuinely debating whether pound shop shampoo would make my hair fall out.

"It won't."

I turned. The girl restocking shelves had apparently read my mind.

She was striking—tall and slim, sharp cheekbones, skin the color of espresso, braids pulled back in a neat bun. Her Poundland uniform hung off her frame, but somehow she made it look intentional.

"Won't what?" I asked.

"Make your hair fall out. The shampoo." She nodded at the bottle in my hand. "It's actually decent. Same factory as the branded stuff, just different packaging."

"How do you know that?"

"Worked here two years. Learned all the secrets." She went back to stacking bottles. "Like which chocolate's actually quality and which'll give you the shits."

"Valuable information."

"Worth more than a pound, that's for sure."

Her name was Michaela, and she was doing a business degree while working nights. "Got to fund the dream somehow," she said, walking me through the store like a tour guide. "Poundland pays the bills. Barely."

"What's the dream?"

"Start my own thing. Marketing. Social media management. All that bullshit people pay thousands for." She shrugged. "Just need the capital."

"Sounds solid."

"Sounds boring, more like. But whatever." She stopped by the back storage door. "You been here ages. You actually buying anything or just enjoying my company?"

"Bit of both."

She smiled—properly smiled, showing a gap between her front teeth. "Alright. Store closes in ten. Help me bring in the outside stock and I'll give you my employee discount."

"On everything in the store?"

"It's Poundland, mate. Everything's already a pound." She opened the storage door. "But I'll throw in something extra."

The stockroom was cramped, stuffed with boxes and plastic-wrapped pallets. Michaela locked the door behind us, turned to face me.

"Alright," she said. "Cards on the table. I've been flirting with you for the last hour because you're fit and I'm bored and I haven't had sex in three months. You interested or not?"

I loved her directness. "Definitely interested."

"Thank fuck. Was starting to think I'd lost my touch."

She kissed me, all business, her hands already under my shirt. She was warm, smelled of cocoa butter, and kissed like she had something to prove.

"This okay?" she breathed.

"More than okay."

She pushed me back against a stack of boxes, dropped to her knees with a grin.

"Always wanted to do this at work. Never had the balls." She looked up at me, those dark eyes sparkling. "You're helping me tick something off my bucket list."

Her mouth was heaven—hot, wet, her tongue doing things that made me grip the boxes behind me for support.

"Fuck, Michaela—"

She hummed in response, took me deeper. I could feel myself getting close already.

"I'm gonna—"

She pulled off, stood, started wiggling out of her work trousers. "Not yet. Want you inside me first."

Underneath, she wore simple white knickers. She pulled them aside, revealing herself—neatly trimmed, glistening.

"Condom?" I managed.

"On the pill. You clean?"

"Yeah."

"Then get in me."

I lifted her—she was light, all long limbs and lean muscle—and pressed her against the boxes. She wrapped her legs around me, guiding me in.

"Oh fuck," she breathed. "Yeah. That's it."

We found a rhythm—hard, fast, the boxes creaking beneath us. She bit her lip to stay quiet, but small moans kept escaping.

"So good—right there—don't stop—"

I adjusted the angle, hit something that made her eyes roll back.

"There—fuck—right there—I'm close—"

She came silently, her whole body tensing, nails digging into my shoulders. The feeling of her pulsing around me was too much.

"Coming—"

"Do it—inside—yes—"

I finished with a groan, holding her tight, both of us shaking.

We cleaned up with tissues from a pound store multipack. "Quality product," Michaela said, grinning.

"I'll give it five stars."

She pulled out her phone, handed it to me. "Put your number in. I work Tuesday, Thursday, Saturday evenings. Could use more help with the stock."

"The stock?"

"Among other things." She kissed me quickly, then unlocked the door. "Now get out before my manager comes looking. And actually buy something—the security bloke's suspicious."

I bought shampoo, the tissues, and a multipack of chocolate that Michaela promised wouldn't give me the shits.

Everything really is better when it's a pound.