FIC: Returns, Refunds, and Exchanges
Title: Returns, Refunds, and Exchanges
Characters: Howard Bamboo/Santana Lopez
Word Count: 1034
Rating: R for sex
Disclaimer: If I owned Glee then all proceeds would go to the Howard Bamboo Legal Defense Fund.
Spoilers/Warnings: Santana is underage.
Summary: Howard Bamboo is working the customer service counter when Santana Lopez wants to make a return, leading to a much sexier transaction.
A/N: Written for a prompt at the glee_kink_meme.
"I need to return these sheets." She's standing at the customer service counter, snapping her gum and texting on her phone without even bothering to look up. She looks like she's in high school - in fact, you're sure you've seen her cheerleading or something on television a few times. That makes her kind of a celebrity, and you're just a customer service associate at Sheets 'N Things.
This exchange is already not off to a good start.
"Um." You hesitate, because not only is it hard to talk to pretty girls, it's especially hard to talk to pretty girls who aren't paying attention to you. "Do you have a receipt?" you finally ask.
"Uh, no." The girl looks up, rolls her eyes, and looks down at her cell phone again, her ponytail bobbing as she does so. "They were, like, a gift."
"They're not even in the wrapper anymore," you say. "They're not even folded." You don't mean to say it out loud.
"Are you saying that you think I'm trying to return used sheets?" Well, now you've got her attention, and you're not sure you want it anymore. She practically slams her phone against the counter as she verbally lays into you. "You think I'm some sort of creep who would use sheets and then, like, try to bring them back to the store? That shit's disgusting. I don't pull crap like that. I'm so totally offended that you'd think I'd do that."
"It's not that," you reply, pausing in between each word to catch your breath. She's kind of frightening. "It's just that without a receipt, I can only give you store credit."
She narrows her eyes at you. You can tell she means business. "I was kind of hoping for some cash."
"Cash?" you stammer.
"Like, yeah, and if you could hurry, that'd be great," she says, shoving the sheets towards you. "I've got to, like, meet this guy underneath the bleachers at school..."
You're caught between a rock and a hard place, and you know it. On the one hand, you're scared of this customer - she's intimidating and pretty and geez you don't know what to do when girls talk to you anyway. But on the other hand, Terri Schuester is the assistant manager working this shift, and if you call her for help when she's busy crying in the bathroom because her husband left her, then you'll be in trouble, but you'll also be in trouble if you listen to the customer and go against store policy and refund the return in cash.
The girl interprets your hesitation as a strategy. "Okay, listen... Howard," she says, and when she leans over the counter, you can see down her shirt, and oh geez oh geez oh geez you can see her boobs. "Listen, Howard, maybe we can go in the back and work out a deal - something just between us. How does that sound?"
You're not sure what she means, but you nod because anything would be better than the agony of having to make a decision by yourself, and before you know it she's taking you by the hand and leading you towards the back of the store. When you reach a secluded corner, she pins you agaisnt a shelf of towels and hurriedly begins to unfasten your pants.
"Wait, what are you doing?" you panic, because you think maybe you're actually about to have sex but you want to make sure that's what's happening first, otherwise you're going to be really embarrassed when she finds your hard-on.
"Don't worry, the camera's don't reach back here," she assures you. "I shoplift from this part like all the time."
"Oh, okay," you reply, although she didn't really answer your question. Soon enough, though, her hand's around your cock, pumping furiously, and you come before you even realize what's going on.
She knows what's going on, obviously, as she looks at you with pity. "Aw, sweetie, that wasn't worth the effort," she says, tsk tsk tsk. "Tell you what, you're new at this, aren't you? I'll throw in a freebie, just this once."
You're not sure what she means until she drops to her knees, pulling your khakis down to your knees. She hooks her fingers into the elastic of your briefs (tighty-whiteys, she calls them, smirking) and inches them downwards. Your cock's already soft, but she takes it into her mouth anyway, mmming and aaahhing so enthusiastically that you know she's faking it, but you don't really care. She runs her tongue along the bottom of the shaft, playfully lapping at the head, before the blood starts rushing back to your crotch. In a few minutes you're hard again, and you're positive you're going to explode into this girl's mouth, and the only thing that keeps you from doing so is embarrassment.
"Okay," she says, pulling away, and you pray to whatever god there is that she's not done yet, because you could swear you can see your balls changing color from here. She takes a condom out of her purse and rips the wrapper with her teeth before suiting you up. "I think you're ready for the advanced course." She lifts up her skirt and wriggles delicately out of a pair of lacy panties before she puts her arms around your neck and lifts her knees up against your torso. She pulls herself up and expertly lowers herself onto your dick and it's all you can do to keep from falling over as she does it again and again and again. When you can't take it anymore you grab her by the waist and force her to stay in place while you thrust upwards into her, coming even harder this time.
"See? That's more like it," the girl says, practically slithering off you as she dismounts and picks her underwear back up off the floor.
You take a moment to catch your breath, but suddenly you can hear Terri Schuester's shrill voice coming from some other part of the store, and hastily you pull your pants back up.
"So how about that refund?" she asks, playfully running her finger along your shirt collar.
"Sorry, store credit only," you reply.
Characters: Howard Bamboo/Santana Lopez
Word Count: 1034
Rating: R for sex
Disclaimer: If I owned Glee then all proceeds would go to the Howard Bamboo Legal Defense Fund.
Spoilers/Warnings: Santana is underage.
Summary: Howard Bamboo is working the customer service counter when Santana Lopez wants to make a return, leading to a much sexier transaction.
A/N: Written for a prompt at the glee_kink_meme.
"I need to return these sheets." She's standing at the customer service counter, snapping her gum and texting on her phone without even bothering to look up. She looks like she's in high school - in fact, you're sure you've seen her cheerleading or something on television a few times. That makes her kind of a celebrity, and you're just a customer service associate at Sheets 'N Things.
This exchange is already not off to a good start.
"Um." You hesitate, because not only is it hard to talk to pretty girls, it's especially hard to talk to pretty girls who aren't paying attention to you. "Do you have a receipt?" you finally ask.
"Uh, no." The girl looks up, rolls her eyes, and looks down at her cell phone again, her ponytail bobbing as she does so. "They were, like, a gift."
"They're not even in the wrapper anymore," you say. "They're not even folded." You don't mean to say it out loud.
"Are you saying that you think I'm trying to return used sheets?" Well, now you've got her attention, and you're not sure you want it anymore. She practically slams her phone against the counter as she verbally lays into you. "You think I'm some sort of creep who would use sheets and then, like, try to bring them back to the store? That shit's disgusting. I don't pull crap like that. I'm so totally offended that you'd think I'd do that."
"It's not that," you reply, pausing in between each word to catch your breath. She's kind of frightening. "It's just that without a receipt, I can only give you store credit."
She narrows her eyes at you. You can tell she means business. "I was kind of hoping for some cash."
"Cash?" you stammer.
"Like, yeah, and if you could hurry, that'd be great," she says, shoving the sheets towards you. "I've got to, like, meet this guy underneath the bleachers at school..."
You're caught between a rock and a hard place, and you know it. On the one hand, you're scared of this customer - she's intimidating and pretty and geez you don't know what to do when girls talk to you anyway. But on the other hand, Terri Schuester is the assistant manager working this shift, and if you call her for help when she's busy crying in the bathroom because her husband left her, then you'll be in trouble, but you'll also be in trouble if you listen to the customer and go against store policy and refund the return in cash.
The girl interprets your hesitation as a strategy. "Okay, listen... Howard," she says, and when she leans over the counter, you can see down her shirt, and oh geez oh geez oh geez you can see her boobs. "Listen, Howard, maybe we can go in the back and work out a deal - something just between us. How does that sound?"
You're not sure what she means, but you nod because anything would be better than the agony of having to make a decision by yourself, and before you know it she's taking you by the hand and leading you towards the back of the store. When you reach a secluded corner, she pins you agaisnt a shelf of towels and hurriedly begins to unfasten your pants.
"Wait, what are you doing?" you panic, because you think maybe you're actually about to have sex but you want to make sure that's what's happening first, otherwise you're going to be really embarrassed when she finds your hard-on.
"Don't worry, the camera's don't reach back here," she assures you. "I shoplift from this part like all the time."
"Oh, okay," you reply, although she didn't really answer your question. Soon enough, though, her hand's around your cock, pumping furiously, and you come before you even realize what's going on.
She knows what's going on, obviously, as she looks at you with pity. "Aw, sweetie, that wasn't worth the effort," she says, tsk tsk tsk. "Tell you what, you're new at this, aren't you? I'll throw in a freebie, just this once."
You're not sure what she means until she drops to her knees, pulling your khakis down to your knees. She hooks her fingers into the elastic of your briefs (tighty-whiteys, she calls them, smirking) and inches them downwards. Your cock's already soft, but she takes it into her mouth anyway, mmming and aaahhing so enthusiastically that you know she's faking it, but you don't really care. She runs her tongue along the bottom of the shaft, playfully lapping at the head, before the blood starts rushing back to your crotch. In a few minutes you're hard again, and you're positive you're going to explode into this girl's mouth, and the only thing that keeps you from doing so is embarrassment.
"Okay," she says, pulling away, and you pray to whatever god there is that she's not done yet, because you could swear you can see your balls changing color from here. She takes a condom out of her purse and rips the wrapper with her teeth before suiting you up. "I think you're ready for the advanced course." She lifts up her skirt and wriggles delicately out of a pair of lacy panties before she puts her arms around your neck and lifts her knees up against your torso. She pulls herself up and expertly lowers herself onto your dick and it's all you can do to keep from falling over as she does it again and again and again. When you can't take it anymore you grab her by the waist and force her to stay in place while you thrust upwards into her, coming even harder this time.
"See? That's more like it," the girl says, practically slithering off you as she dismounts and picks her underwear back up off the floor.
You take a moment to catch your breath, but suddenly you can hear Terri Schuester's shrill voice coming from some other part of the store, and hastily you pull your pants back up.
"So how about that refund?" she asks, playfully running her finger along your shirt collar.
"Sorry, store credit only," you reply.