Missing Vicodin

"Where's the Vicodin, Amy?"

"It's right over here."

"I know where it is. You know that's not what I'm asking. Where's the Vicodin?"

Amy manages the stock at the pharmacy. She makes sure everything is in place and accounted for. Nothing goes out without a prescription. Nothing comes in without being logged. Sometimes older medicines are destroyed. Nothing is out of place. People's lives depend on this.

Amy does her job very well.

"There are forty-eight Vicodin tablets missing. Where are they?"

"That's impossible. They must be here."

Amy never misplaces anything.

She is talking to the state inspector. Once in a while they come around to make sure the pharmacy is in good order. Amy has never had any trouble. They usually find something minor to recommend so they can justify their jobs, like "This sink should be labeled for no medicinal waste" or "The restroom should have a sign reminding employees to wash their hands," but she has never had a problem.

Missing drugs are a problem.

"Count your stock for me."

Amy pulls the pills out onto the counter and starts moving them to count them.

This is a new inspector. The last one had been a middle-aged woman. She seemed nice, but they had to maintain a professional demeanor, so Amy had never chatted with her. The interaction was quick and dry, so they could both go back to work.

The new inspector acted the same way, but he had found a problem. He is an older man, maybe forty-fivish, with grey hair. He isn't wearing the uniform of a pharmacist. He has navy blue slacks and a white, button-down, short sleeve shirt.

He is average height and build. A lot of men his age have started to put on a few pounds and gain a little belly, but he is still reasonably in shape. This guy must be a control freak. He won't even let his body age.

He has tortoise-shell glasses.

Amy finishes.

"Forty-eight are missing."

"Amy, where is the Vicodin?"

Amy is very young, despite her position. She is only twenty-two. The long skirt and blouse she wears create a very professional look. Her straight brown hair is pulled back, and her makeup is subtle.

Even under her conservative appearance, you can see a figure that turns heads. For almost ten years, she has had a nice hourglass shape with round, womanly hips. Ever since she developed her full chest, men have been kind to her.

"I don't know what happened to it."

"Whose job is it to know?"

"Mine."

He is staring down at her now. She can tell from his cold look that things will be difficult.

"It looks like you aren't doing your job very well."

"Wait just a second. I'm sure it will turn up."

She starts looking around the shop, but there is nowhere the pills could have gone. Everything is in it's place. There are no empty spots. They aren't in the trash can. They aren't on the counter.

"Don't worry, Amy. It is pretty clear what happened."

"What?"

"Vicodin is popular. You just needed to make a few extra dollars. How long has this been going on?"

"It isn't true! I never stole! It must be here."

"I don't have time for this. I'll prepare a report for your employer. If I were you, I would get a lawyer."

"Please don't tell the pharmacist. I'm sure it will turn up. Why should I get a lawyer?"

"Selling drugs is a crime, Amy. I have to report you to the police."

"Can't you just give me a day to find it? It must be here somewhere."

"You had your time. I'll see you in court."

"Please. I'll do anything. Just don't report me to the police."

"Anything?"

"Anything."

"Show me your tits."

"What?!?"

"Show me your tits."

"I can't do that."

"Then you'll go to prison. So long."

He turns calmly, and starts heading for the door, whistling. His shoes make a click-click sound on the floor as he heads towards the door. It seems like nothing could make him happier than ruining a young girl's life.

"Wait!"

He keeps walking.

"Wait, please."

At the door, he stops and turns around.

"What is it?"

"If I - If I do 'that' will you promise not to report me?"

"No promises. You want me to be quiet, then show me your tits."

Amy doesn't answer, but instead starts unbuttoning her blouse. As she works her way down to the third button, the blouse falls open a bit, and her white bra shows between the sides of the shirt. He can see its clasp in the front. She keeps unbuttoning until she reaches the top of her skirt. After tugging the shirt up out of the skirt, the undoes the final buttons and stops.

While she is standing, the blouse parts only a few inches from top to bottom. Part of her bra, and her belly button are visible, and the tails are hanging over the skirt.

"I'm waiting."

He walks back to get a better look.

Amy reaches up, with her hands trembling slightly, and grabs either side of the blouse. She pauses only briefly, then finds her resolve and pulls the shirt open. Her bra is large and firm to support her large chest, but it is clear enough that he can see the brown areola through the front.

"Is this good?"

"It's very good, Amy. You are a knockout without that dowdy shirt on. Now show me the rest."

"The rest?"

"Nobody asked to see your bra. Open up."

Amy reaches up with her left hand and undoes the clasp. The sides of the bra snap out a little, free of the pressure. She grabs the cups and pulls them away. No man but her husband has seen her topless since she got married. Now she is flashing somebody she has never met before.

Her brown areolas are large, about three inches across, and in the air-conditioned cool of the pharmacy, her nipples start to harden.

He reaches out a hand.

She backs away.

"What are you doing? Come back."

"You just asked me to show you. I did."

"And now I'm going to touch."

"Then will you promise not to report me?"

"Amy, we both know how serious this is. You are going to fuck me."

Amy stops in shock. She is standing with her mouth as wide open as her blouse is, staring at him in disbelief.

"It is your choice: me or prison. Now kiss me."

He walks up to her and bends down, kissing her cheek. Finding no resistance, a hand reaches up to her chin, and pulls it upward. He kisses her on the lips, but she doesn't kiss back. His tongue forces its way into her mouth while his hand reaches down and grabs her breast.

As he kisses her, he rolls her nipple between his fingers and presses his crotch into hers. She can feel his erection through his pants.

"Why don't you take this off?"

He grabs her blouse, and pulls it off her arms, tossing it onto the counter. He does the same with her bra. Now she is standing in her pharmacy in just a skirt and shoes.

He kisses her one more time, and reaches his hands around to her ass. He pulls her forward into his crotch and rubs.

"Now lose the skirt. Keep the shoes on."

She just stands there. A tear starts to come down. So he reaches to her side and unzips her. Her full hips keep the skirt up, so he crouches down with his face inches from her pussy, and pulls at the skirt. It comes down easily and drops to the floor.

"Step out of this."

Amy lifts one leg, then the other as he pulls the skirt free, depositing it on the counter with the rest of her clothes. Her panties are pink. They are solid enough to protect the little modesty she has left, but some of her brown hair is poking out through the legs. Parts of her bush show through the top of the panties, where it is a sexier lace.

"Amy, you'll have to start doing better than this if you want me to help you."

"I'm sorry. It's just such a shock."

"It's OK. Dance for me."

He finds a chair and sits down.

"There isn't any music."

"Dance anyway."

Amy starts swaying her hips back and forth. This makes her breasts swing. She decides to make a show of it, like he job depends on it. She starts throwing her best moves and shaking. She puts her arms straight down and pulls them together, pushing her tits up and out. Then she bends forward. He whistles and applauds. She dances more, and does a shimmy, holding her arms out to her sides and shaking her chest back and forth. She can tell he enjoys it.

"Now pull your panties to the side."

"What?"

"I want to see your pussy. Give me a peak."

She stops dancing, and spread her legs a little bit. With one hand, she reaches between her legs, and pulls the bottom of the panties to one side, showing her trimmed brown hair. She pulls her hand away, but the panties stay on the side.

"Rub it."

She reaches down with her left hand and rubs her palm over her exposed pussy.

"This isn't good enough. Lose the panties, and come sit on the chair."

She turns away, still trying to stay modest. But as she bends over to take the panties off, her pussy shows between her legs from behind. Now she is wearing only her shoes.

He stands up and moves out of the chair. She finds a chux pad, and puts it down, then sits. Knowing what he wants, she spreads her legs apart. Her brown lips are a little swollen.

"Put one leg up over the arm of the chair."

She does, and it exposed the pink insides of her pussy to his eyes.

"Masturbate for me."

"I don't masturbate," she lies.

"You do now. We aren't moving 'til you come."

So she tries to get into it. She shuts her eyes and pretends he isn't there. She is at home alone inn the bathtub, and the water is pulsing over her pussy. One hand reaches down and starts rubbing. The other hand grabs one breast then the other, tugging and rolling the nipples.

She imagines the smell of the bubbles as her fingers slip up and down her vagina. She starts rubbing her clitoris. She imagines moving the shower head to hit her sensitive spots, and starts rubbing harder. Despite herself, she is starting to feel good. She lets out a sigh and keeps rubbing.

His hand!

He is touching her pussy, on top of her own hand. She jumps. Her eyes dart open and look at him in fear.

"Keep going," he says deliberately.

She shuts her eyes and tries to rub. He is sticking his fingers in and rubbing. When she tries to rub, she hits his hand. She doesn't like being touched down there. The mood is broken, but she can't take any more.

Finally, she decides to fake it, and releases a loud grunt. She shakes her hips and her chest, swinging her tits wildly, while letting out whimpers. Then she calms and settles.

She looks up at him, trying to look satisfied. He is smiling.

"See? I knew you'd enjoy it, you little whore."

"I really did, baby. Are we finished?"

"Not by a long shot."

He is taking his shoes off, then his socks. He unbuckles his pants, and lets them fall to the floor. He wears boxers. Then he unbuttons the shirt and puts it next to yours on the counter.

"Ready for it?"

No answer.

He drops his underwear, and his penis spring out. It is average length, maybe five or six inches, and average thickness. At least it won't hurt. His balls swing as he steps out of his shorts.

"Come over and kiss me again."

She stands and goes towards him. Again he kisses her cheek, but this time she turns her head up for him. His tongue invades her mouth again, and his hand grabs at her tits again. This time, she can feel hit cock touching her belly, a little sticky from watching her.

"Rub me a little, sweetheart."

With him still kissing and fondling her, she reaches down and grabs his erection. Maybe if she can finish him he won't want any more.

She brushes her fingernails on his balls, then on the bottom of his cock. She pulls his cock up onto his own belly and rubs it with her palm. She can feel it quivering in her hands. Then she lets it drop and grasps it. She starts squeezing and pulling, slowly so she doesn't hurt him.

Thank God for high school. She became an expert at hand jobs.

She stokes and rubs him as he fondles her, and then when he seems about to come, he stops her.

He pulls his head up.

"Turn around."

She turns her back towards him.

"Now bend over and grab that counter."

She does, putting her hands right next to their clothing. she can see her tits hanging down in the mirror behind the counter. So can he. She can see him walking up to her, and then she can feel his hands on her. He is rubbing her pussy from behind, spreading her moisture.

Then with one hand, he pulls her pussy lips apart, and she can feel the head of his dick touching her. He thrusts, but his dick slips away and pushes underneath, up along her belly. He pulls back out and tries again. Again, she feels his head. Again he pushes. This time, he pushes in a little, and her hips push forward from the force.

He backs out a little, letting her go back into place, and pushes forward again. This time his dick enters her completely. She decides to pretend it is her husband. But her husband is larger. And he only likes the traditional position. She shuts her eyes anyway, and decides it is him.

The inspector reaches around and grabs her tit in one hand. Then he starts to pump. As he pushes in and out, he can watch one tit swaying back and forth in the mirror. His hand holds the other one still.

He looks up and down at her back. It is beautiful. She has the hips a woman should have. She has the tits a woman should have, and she is fucking him.

She actually starts to believe he is her husband, and starts pushing back to meet him. Now they are fucking together. Her cheeks become flushed, and his breathing quickens. He slowly builds his speed, until it feels like he is pounding into her, and she pulls one hand back to hold her flopping tit in place.

Just when it feels like he can't go any faster, he jams his dick into her and pushes her hips all the way forward. She feels him pumping semen into her, four or five loads, each one filling her.

And then he backs away.

She stands up.

His come starts leaking down her leg, and she looks at him.

"Are you happy now?"

"I sure am. You are a hot fuck."

"Does this mean we pass the inspection?"

"Sort of. I'm putting you on probation."

He grabs her panties, and uses them to wipe off his dick. Then he pulls his own shorts on.

"I'll be stopping by frequently over the next few months to make sure you keep things in order."

Then he pulls on his pants.

"Oh, I forgot. There is one more thing."

"One more thing? What is it."

He reaches into his pants and pulls out plastic bag.

"Here is your Vicodin. I found it after all. But I'll just hold on to it until you are off probation."