For what seemed like the hundredth time that day, I dusted glitter off the counter. My eyes scanned the aisles of the craft store for customers. The place was nearly empty, save for a few people checking out some yarn and scrapbooking supplies. I’d pulled a double shift after one of my coworkers called out sick, and the monotony was beginning to wear on me — until Abby walked in.

Abby was a regular, always coming in with a substantial list. From our brief discussions, I knew she was sprucing up her old house. It was a fixer-upper that needed real renovations, but she was also looking to make it pretty with crafty little touches.

Abby was older than me, a lush blonde with tits to die for and confidence that radiated from her pores. That day, like so many others, her jeans hugged her curves in all the... Read More