50 More Sexcapades novel Chapter 48

“That’ll be $4.80 Bill.”I inserted the cash into the register and gave my customer his change, wishing him a good rest of his day.

When I saw the mid-afternoon beer, snacks, and cigarette rush had died down, I finally took a breather and tidied up a bit around me. I heard the familiar ding of the front door, indicating a new customer walked in.

And there goes my break.

“Welcome to Joe’s Stop” I called out, with my back facing whoever it was that just walked into my store. I noticed I was pretty low on all the Juul stuff. It seemed as though the more I stocked up, the faster the inventory flew out the door.

I clucked my tongue, eyeing the “19 and older” sign above the e-cigarette section. I may have to start cracking down on the rules around here. I knew being conveniently located near Montgomery High School would be good for business, but I didn’t want my ass on the line for selling to teens.

I was restocking a few of the popular “flavors” when someone cleared their throat behind me. I turned and saw two teenage girls standing there expectantly. “Howdy girls, what can I get for you?”

They gave each other a look as I leaned over the counter. I recognized one of the girls from the church I sometimes went to on Sundays. Blonde, petite, and quite a looker, she was. Admittedly, when I saw her in church a few times with her family- I end up praying for forgiveness after some particularly sinful thoughts went through my mind.

“Well, we were wondering if you happened to have restocked the Cherry flavor for the Juuls? We need refills”

A-ha.

“Oh were you now?” I said, eyeing the teens up and down. I had no doubt they were 18 or 19- around the same age as my own kids, and definitely not the legal age to be buying what they came for. I figured I’d humor them anyway.”

“Well, did you?” the other one asked. “Before I answer that, I’ll have to see some I.D. ladies. Rules are rules,” I said, pointing to the 19 and older sign.

They audibly sighed and reluctantly opened their bags, handing me two dingy-looking cards.

I eyed the documents suspiciously, starting with the quiet friend. I studied her red bangs and freckles, then looked back down at her I.D. which belonged to a 28-year-old woman who bore little to no resemblance to the trickster.

“You know ladies, presenting false identification to business owners could get you into some serious trouble. Would hate to see one of you dolls in the back of a sheriff’s car on your way to the can.

The red-headed friend reddened even more and angrily whispered I told you to Miss Blondie, before snatching the fake I.D. out of my hand and making a run for it.

Her abandoned friend barely rolled her eyes and defiantly stood in front of me, not budging. “Still here, ain’t you? Well, let’s have a look at yours now.” I eyed her I.D. and chuckled. The only thing they had in common was their hair and their-