Page 33 of Show Me

“Too bad.” I guided us to the opposite end of the aisle as Sam managed to tuck himself away and swiped his hand on his shirt.

He glanced over his shoulder as we turned down another aisle. “Do you think they saw?”

“Nah, probably not. They were talking to each other. Let’s get the fuck out of here, though. You smell like bukkake.”

Sam cracked up and cut right in front of me so that I bumped into him.

I shoved him through the front door of the bookstore. “Seriously, you need a shower. Maybe two.”

We both froze as the anti-theft sensors shrilled around us. My eyes widened in panic as one of the cashiers walked briskly toward us with a grim expression on his face.

“Fuck me,” I muttered. “Run!”

“Jesse.” Sam caught me by my upper arm before I achieved liftoff and laughed as he squeezed it. “Relax.”

“What if they saw something?” My heart thundered at the prospect.

“They didn’t. It’s just the sensor alarm. Did you pick something up?”

“When would I have done that? Are you asking if I shoplifted school supplies with one hand while the other was filming you jacking off and you somehow missed that?”

He grinned, but the cashier stopping in front of us prevented his reply.

The guy was around our age and wore a no-nonsense scowl on his face and a nametag on his shirt that read Dave. “I’ll need to see your backpacks.”

Sam shrugged. “Okay, we didn’t take anything.”

“How many times do you think I’ve heard that before?”

We handed our backpacks over, and the cashier pawed through them. “Lift up your shirts please.”

This time Sam looked slightly stricken, and I was the one fighting back a snicker. “Isn’t that something security is supposed to do and not a cashier?”

“Sure, yeah.” Dave rolled his eyes. “Would you like to wait here for the next half hour while I make the call, or would you like to lift your damn shirt up and let’s get on with it?”

Sam shot a glance at me, then pressed his lips together and lifted up his shirt while I did the same.

Dave walked around us. “You can lower them,” he said, then made a clucking noise and peeled something from my shirt before holding his finger up. On it was a puffy little sensor-embedded sticker. No clue how it’d gotten there. Guess I’d rubbed against a book or shelf the wrong way.

“Now, aren’t you glad we didn’t wait for security?” He cocked his head at Sam. “Hey, you’re on the football team, yeah?”

“Yup.” Sam smoothed his hand over his stomach with a curt nod. “Are we free to go?”

The guy’s face fell, and he nodded. “Yeah, sure.”

We hitched our packs back on our shoulders. I nudged Sam in the ribs. “What was that? You’re usually way nicer. Wait, didyoutake something?”

“No! You psyched me out! I kept thinking that guy was probably smelling me or that I’d lift up my shirt and have flakes of dried cum all over my stomach and he’d judge me.”

“What exactly would he be judging?”

“My aim?”

I snorted. “You caught it in your hand.”

“I guess, yeah, but I wasn’t paying much attention where I wiped it when you were dragging me toward the front.”

“I was, and it wasn’t on your stomach.”