Primark Perks
"A Saturday afternoon shopping trip turns steamy when a thick-thighed sales assistant helps with more than fitting rooms"
Saturday afternoon in Primark was basically the Hunger Games with better lighting. Mums wrestling over three-quid leggings, teenagers blocking aisles for selfies, and me—just trying to find a pair of joggers that didn't make me look like a complete muppet.
That's when I spotted her.
Working the fitting room queue, she was absolute perfection wrapped in a staff lanyard. Thick thighs testing the limits of her black work trousers, curves that the shapeless Primark polo couldn't hide, and the kind of bored expression that said she'd rather be anywhere else.
Her name tag said "Jade."
"How many items?" she asked when I reached the front, not even looking up.
"Five."
She handed me a plastic number, finally meeting my eyes. Hers were dark, rimmed with heavy liner, and they widened slightly as she looked me over.
"Fitting room six. End of the row."
Was that a hint? Probably not. But a man could dream.
The fitting room was cramped, the mirror was smudged, and the lighting made everyone look vaguely ill. Standard Primark experience. I was halfway through trying on the second pair of joggers when there was a knock.
"Everything alright in there?"
Jade's voice. I cracked the door open.
She was leaning against the frame, arms crossed, that bored expression replaced with something more interesting.
"Just checking you haven't died. You've been in here twenty minutes."
"Having a fashion crisis."
"In Primark? Bit optimistic." But she was smiling now. "Need a second opinion?"
Before I could answer, she slipped inside, pulling the door shut behind her. The fitting room suddenly felt a lot smaller.
"These are shit," she said, looking at the joggers I was wearing. "Make your arse look flat."
"Cheers for the honesty."
"Try the grey ones." She picked them up from the hook, held them out. "And lose the t-shirt while you're at it. Can't judge the full look otherwise."
I raised an eyebrow. "Is this standard Primark customer service?"
"Nah. This is the premium experience." Her eyes dropped to my chest as I pulled off my shirt. "Reserved for fit customers only."
"And I qualify?"
She stepped closer, ran a finger down my stomach. "Just about."
The thing about Primark fitting rooms is they're not exactly soundproof. The curtain doesn't quite reach the floor. Someone could walk past at any moment.
None of that seemed to bother Jade.
She kissed me like she'd been waiting all shift for it, her tongue piercing clicking against my teeth. Her hands were everywhere—chest, shoulders, working at my jeans.
"Been so fucking bored," she breathed. "Saturday shifts are dead. Need something to wake me up."
"Happy to help."
I spun her around, pressed her against the mirror. She gasped, then grinned at our reflection.
"Bossy. I like it."
I yanked down her work trousers, revealing a black thong that barely covered anything. Her arse was incredible—round, firm, the kind you could bounce a coin off.
"Quick," she said, wiggling back against me. "Only got five minutes before someone notices I'm gone."
Five minutes. Challenge accepted.
I pulled the thong aside, found her already wet. She moaned as I pushed inside, then bit her lip to stay quiet.
"Fuck—yeah—just like that—"
We had to be fast, had to be quiet. Every creak of the mirror, every rustle of clothes, felt amplified. But that just made it hotter—the risk, the thrill, the knowledge that anyone could catch us.
I reached around, found her clit, rubbed circles while I thrust. Her breathing went ragged.
"Close—shit—already close—"
She came with a muffled scream, biting down on her own hand. The feeling of her clenching around me was too much.
"Where—"
"Inside—fucking do it—"
I buried myself deep and let go, both of us shaking, trying desperately to stay quiet.
Two minutes later, Jade was straightening her clothes, fixing her ponytail like nothing had happened. I was still trying to remember how to breathe.
"Buy the grey joggers," she said, checking her reflection. "And come back next Saturday. I work two till close."
"Same fitting room?"
She grinned, that bored expression back in place like a mask. "Room six. I'll save it for you."
She slipped out, leaving me alone with five items and a desperate need for a cigarette.
I bought all five. Plus a six-pack of boxers I didn't need.
Some shopping trips are worth the money.