The grocery cart was overflowing—cereal boxes stacked three high, bulk pasta, family-size everything. Shelley pushed it through the aisles of Dumpty's Grocery with practiced ease. She'd been shopping here for years. Knew every aisle, every price, every face.

  Including Kyle's.

  The teenage boy was at the register—seventeen, maybe eighteen now—and his face went red the moment he saw her coming. It always did. Poor kid had been crushing on her since he started working here two years ago, and she knew it.

  "Hey, Kyle," she said, fshing him a warm smile as she started unloading the cart.

  "H-hi, Ms. Shelley." His voice cracked slightly, and he quickly looked down at the register, fingers fumbling over the scanner. "How are you?"

  "I'm good, honey. How about you?" She leaned forward slightly as she reached for a box of cereal, and Kyle's eyes flicked down before snapping back up to her face.

  She was wearing a V-neck top that showed off her cleavage—and she had plenty to show. Booty shorts that hugged her curves and let the bottom of her cheeks peek out when she moved, paired with simple sandals. No underwear. She hadn't bothered this morning. She knew where this shopping trip would end up.

  Kyle stammered something incoherent, scanning items faster now, like speed would save him from his embarrassment.

  Shelley smiled to herself. Sweet kid. Harmless. And useful when she needed a little extra help.

  "Is Mr. Dumpty in today?" she asked casually, pcing the st few items on the belt.

  "Y-yeah, he's in the back." Kyle bagged the groceries carefully, his hands shaking slightly. "You want me to get him?"

  "No, that's okay. Just pack up my stuff for me, would you? I need to talk to him real quick." She touched his arm lightly, and he went even redder. "Think you could load it in my van when you're done? The blue one out front?"

  "Of course!" The words tumbled out. "Yeah, absolutely, I can do that."

  "You're such a sweetheart, Kyle." She let her hand linger for just a second longer than necessary, then headed toward the back of the store.

  Behind her, she heard him exhale shakily.

  She smiled as she walked past the stockroom, past the employees-only sign, straight to the office at the end of the hall. She knocked twice, then opened the door without waiting.

  Humpty Dumpty sat behind his desk—round, balding, suspenders stretched over his considerable belly. A cigar smoldered in the ashtray beside him, and he was hunched over some invoices, calcutor in hand.

  He looked up and grinned immediately. "Ms. Oldwoman."

  "Hey, Mr. Dumpty." She stepped inside, closed the door behind her, and locked it with a soft click. Then she flipped the sign hanging on the back to read "Do Not Disturb."

  Humpty leaned back in his chair, the leather groaning under his weight. He picked up his cigar and took a long puff, eyes tracking her as she crossed the small office.

  "How you doing today?" he asked, smoke curling from his lips.

  "I'm fine." Shelley walked over to his desk and sat on the edge, letting one leg cross over the other. The booty shorts rode up, showing more skin. "How about you?"

  "Can't compin." He gestured toward the front of the store with his cigar. "Those groceries out there? They're free. You know that."

  "I know." She tilted her head, gave him a soft smile. "And I always appreciate it."

  "Long as you take care of me." It wasn't a question. Just a statement of fact. Their arrangement. Simple. Clean.

  "I always do." She picked up the paperweight from his desk—a gss sphere with a tiny kings horses and men inside—and turned it over in her hands. "So... what about Mrs. Dumpty? She around today?"

  Humpty's grin widened. "Not right now. But tonight? Maybe you, me, and her?"

  Shelley set the paperweight down, meeting his eyes. "Of course. Anything for you, Mr. Dumpty."

  "That's my woman." He stubbed out the cigar, his other hand already reaching for her. "You know that means extra discounts, right?"

  "I know." She slid off the desk and into his p in one smooth motion, feeling his arms wrap around her waist immediately. He smelled like cigar smoke and cheap cologne, and his hands were already sliding down her thighs. "You always take good care of me and the Mrs."

  "And you always take good care of me."

  His grip tightened.

  "That's how this works."

  Shelley leaned in and kissed him—slow, practiced, the kind of kiss she'd given a hundred times before. His hands roamed, squeezing her ass, pulling her tighter against him. She let him. This was the deal. This was how she kept her kids fed.

  She wasn't ashamed. She wasn't being used. She knew exactly what she was doing.

  His fingers found the buttons on her shorts, and she shifted to make it easier for him. He worked them open one by one, his breathing getting heavier, his other hand sliding up under her shirt to cup her breast.

  "God, Shelley," he muttered against her mouth.

  She pulled back just enough to look at him, that knowing smile on her lips. Then she slid her hand down between them, feeling him hard beneath his scks.

  "Let me take care of you, Mr. Dumpty," she murmured, already working his belt buckle open.