“Lead me—it’s your show,” DJ said as they exited his car. Damn nice one too—the little green hybrid looked brand new. Not that she’d give him the satisfaction of oohing and aahing over his little eco-dick-extension.
Ashley took his hand and lead him into the library.
The town’s public library was a fairly new building, and a good library as such things went. She’d worked here at this lame-ass job as a library aid for her first two years of college until a nosy bitch co-worker had found her weed in her backpack and ratted her out to their manager. She hadn’t missed the job; if she had a nickel for every pencil-necked geek who tried to live out his sexy librarian fantasies through her, she’d have enough for a can of Coke and still have change to spare.
Like in the cafeteria, people did a double-take when they saw the chesty girl striding into the library without a shirt on, her pallid breasts on display in her electric blue lacy bra, but no one commented, no one interfered. She stepped to block the path of a middle-aged woman on her way out and shimmied her boobs theatrically in front of her, just to see what she’d do. The woman frowned like she’d encountered a puddle she didn’t know how to get around, then scurried on out once Ashley gave way to a fit of the giggles and let her by.
“This is the fucking shit!” she exclaimed, turning to kiss DJ impulsively.
He was grinning at her as she released him. “It gets better.”
“A guy who’s only had his fingers in me that I’m gonna let get his whole freak on is telling me it’s gonna get better? Deej, you don’t even know the half of it.”
She lead him into the main section of the library. Scanning, she recognized several faces—brittle old Mrs. Namasuro, her old supervisor, hunched over the check-out desk; that homeless black woman whose name she had never bothered to learn who practically lived here; IT Dave the IT guy doin’ IT things. Others. Standing in here brought back the weight of all the drudgery she’d endured on the premises, but in a moment, she remembered her new boy-toy, and felt the exultation of shedding that yoke.
“So what’d you have in mind?” asked DJ.
“Well, I was hoping to see this one girl I knew here, but ah well. So… how far does this gift of yours stretch? What are the limits?”
He shrugged. “So far, none that I know of.”
“Consequences?”
“None.”
“Drawbacks? Does it tire you out to keep it running or something?”
“It’s not conscious; it just happens. No drawbacks I’ve seen.”
“Nobody’s come after you with a stick or something for stealing their car, no farmers looking to avenge the loss of their daughters’ virginities?”
He laughed. “No sticks. There was the one farmer, but with no stick, what was he gonna do.”
“So like, if I…” She went over to one of the bookshelves, easily ten feet tall and laden with hundreds of pounds of books, Aa-Be. Then, with a grunt of effort, she shoved the thing, then shoved harder (damn thing was heavy) until it collapsed with a thunderous boom. A cloud of dust billowed up from the scene of the crime.
Employees ran over, horrified. They looked at the mess, then to Ashley and DJ, and back. “What happened here?” demanded old Mrs. Namasuro as she shuffled closer. “Ashley Vandoren? Did you do this? And for pity’s sake where’s your shirt, child?”
Ashley nodded. “Didn’t feel like wearing one, and yeah, I did it.”
“What in heaven’s name for?”
“I dunno. Spite, I guess? If I’d been thinking, I would’ve shoved it the other way, see if we could get a nice domino effect going like ya see on TV. Ah well, next time.”
“This is vandalism! I’m calling the police, young lady—you just stay RIGHT there!”
Ashley, beginning to worry that this wasn’t going to go like she’d hoped, looked at DJ, who’d been looking remorsefully at the downed tomes. Ugh, she hoped he didn’t have some kind of lame piety about the sanctity of books or some lame shit like that. “Deej, anything you wanna say here?”
He cleared his throat and dutifully stepped forward. “I made her do it, actually.”
Mrs. Namasuro gave him a hard look. “Well, you can explain that to the police when they arrive to arrest Ms. Vandoren.”
“You’re not going to call anyone,” DJ replied evenly. He continued talking, but Ashley lost track of it as the girl she’d most hoped to run into here came into her view, apparently having been downstairs in the children’s wing and coming to investigate the noise.
Cara Spicer. The little cunt who’d ratted her out.
Ashley and Cara had been natural enemies from the time they become co-workers. They were the two most attractive girls who worked there, sparking all manner of arguments from the chauvinist pigs they worked with about who was the hotter: Ashley and her semi-Goth pale and busty style, or Cara, the quintessential girl-next door. Medium height, medium build, big brown eyes and long straight brown hair, doll-faced and insipid and everything Ashley hated about the cohabitants of her gender. Dressed prettily, broadcasted sweetness in a visible wavelength, volunteered at the fucking animal shelter in her spare time. And of course she was pre-med, so she could go join Doctors Without Borders or some other save-the-wretched-from-themselves foundation when she got her MD.
Ashley detested her. It was two-way street. Cara began the war with small-scale skirmishes, suggesting ways Ashley could do her hair prettier, correcting her posture, suggesting death metal t-shirts weren’t appropriate attire at work. (Mrs. Namasuro had overheard that last, which Ashley was sure was no accident, and had instituted a new policy that essentially analyzed Ashley’s wardrobe and banned it.) That was the first of countless reprimands and formal warnings Cara brought down on her, finally culminating in ratting her out for her weed and getting her fired.
She came back to the present, and DJ had evidently satisfied Mrs. Namasuro, who was now shuffling back to her desk as a number of her male employees began picking up the shelf, glaring at Ashley. Cara caught site of Ashley and just shook her head in her usual puritanical disapprobation at the girl’s state of undress. Clearly, she also immediately linked Ashley to the mess on the tile behind her.
“Satisfied?” DJ asked.
“I’m about to be,” she said, her eyes still fixed on Cara, who was in turn looking with pity on the poor books for having to touch the dirty floor. “We both are. C’mon.”
She took DJ’s hand and had to pull to make him keep up with her, stopping before Cara. “I can’t believe you did that, Ashley. That’s so disrespectful. When you make messes, it creates work for other people—don’t you understand that? But then, judging from what you’re wearing, you don’t even respect yourself.”
Ashley rolled her eyes. “DJ, meet Cara. Cara, DJ.”
“Hi,” said DJ.
“Hello.” She gave him a wary look, certain anyone hanging around with that no-account hoodlum Ashley Vandoren must surely be destined for bad things.
“Cara, I need your help with something,” Ashley said.
“I think you should leave.”
“I’ll bet. Now, in a minute, I’m going to have sex with my buddy here. But to do that, I need to get him good and hard first.”
“That’s disgusting, Ashley. I don’t know why you’re telling me this except to be deliberately crude.” Cara turned to walk away, but DJ, seeing where this was going, grabbed the pretty brunette by the sleeve of her blouse and held her fast. She stopped almost instantly, and DJ directed her back around to face them.