Disclaimers: This story has been edited by myself, utilizing Microsoft Spell-check. You have been forewarned; expect to find mistakes.
I dedicate this story to Morebrand, an author and frequent commenter on this site. You will be missed.
Also, there is a scene involving auto-fellatio. Consider yourself warned.
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Nicole Gernaud stood in front of the Burns & Burns Grocers grocery store in DeGarde, Louisiana. The Burns & Burns Grocers grocery store was located in what used to be Early’s Supermarket. A few years earlier, the grocery store had been shut down for selling alcohol to an underage customer.
The eighteen year old girl did not think of that irony; the store had been shut down for selling alcohol to a nineteen year old girl. She did not think of the irony that her older brother Cecil had once worked at this very location before it had been shut down. She didn’t even think of the irony that her older sister, Christine Gernaud had patrolled the parking lot of another Burns & Burns Grocers grocery store, trying to cajole patrons of the supermarket into buying her pints of cheap gin.
All Nicole could think of was her need to get alcohol into her system. Her hands were beginning to shake and her entire body was covered in a sheen of sweat. The sweat had nothing to do with the extreme heat and humidity and her shaking had little to do with the fact that she’d not eaten anything today.
“Hey, how’s it going?” Nicole smiled what she hoped was a seductive smile at a scrawny young man.
“Hey,” the young man managed to stammer out as he paused in mid-stride.
“Hey, I uh, hey, you buy me some Albertson’s?” Nicole blurted out.
Some what?” Jordan Cox asked.
“Albertson’s. Gin; I need a couple of pints,” Nicole wheedled.
Jordan looked at the pudgy young woman. She was cute enough, with long brown hair that reached just below her chubby buttocks, big brown eyes, cow eyes Jordan’s aunt would have said, a button nose and button mouth. Even though she was somewhat portly, big boned Aunt Iris would have said, the girl had slightly small boobs as evident in her sweat soaked tee shirt.
“I, how old are you?” Jordan asked.
“Nine, eighteen,” Nicole admitted.
“Eighteen? Got be twenty one…” Jordan began to retort.
“Yeah, buddy, I know how old you got to be,” Nicole snapped, her nerves writhing with need. “Why I need you buy it for me.”
“Don’t think so,” Jordan said.
“Look, I’ll blow you,” Nicole offered.
“Shit, I can do that myself,” Jordan scoffed.
“Yeah, right,” Nicole said; she would have smirked at the young man’s claim had she not been in such extreme need.
“Piece of ass?” Jordan countered.
“I, got to wear a condom,” Nicole agreed.
“When I say ‘piece of ass,’ I mean ‘piece of ass,'” Jordan informed Nicole.
Nicole looked around at the few cars in the parking lot. There were no new arrivals. This scrawny young man had been the fourth person she’d seen this early afternoon; the previous three had all declined her request.
She needed the two pints of Albertson’s. She needed to be able to take the edge off of her jumbled, hazy painful feelings and emotions. She needed the second pint to be able to slip into that peaceful moment, that easy moment between consciousness and unconsciousness.
Nicole did not know she’d inherited the gene of alcoholism from her actual father, a long-distance trucker Pam Gernaud, her mother had hitched a ride and a fuck with. She only knew, the first time she’d drank some dark rum at a sleep-over with a school friend, that first sip had vanquished that awful emptiness, that ever-present feeling of not being quite right Nicole had always felt deep inside. That sip had triggered Nicole’s need for more and more of the magic elixir.
“Yeah, okay,” Nicole agreed.
“Come on; you can show me what you’re talking about. I, Albertson’s? Gin?” Jordan indicated with a nod of his head toward the grocery store. “I’ve never even heard of Albertson’s.”
Nicole was dismayed that Jordan was there to do some grocery shopping. She followed along, mentally trying to urge him to move quicker, trying to urge him toward the liquor aisle.
As they’d traversed the grocery store’s aisles, Jordan had told Nicole he was a part-time student at the University of Louisiana at DeGarde and a full-time employee of PC Nation’s Arrow Court location. Nicole did not care that Jordan was studying Business Administration and that Richard Gerrard and Harold Doucet had already indicated that they were willing to count Jordan’s employment with PC Nation as ‘internship’ for the Data Center located in Elgee, Louisiana.
Nicole did not tell Jordan of being the product of a large breasted blonde with perpetual wanderlust and a one night or two night or one week stand with a trucker. She didn’t tell Jordan about Pam returning to Gary Gernaud with promises of never straying again and Gary putting two bullets into Pam’s unfaithful heart before putting the gun into his own mouth. She did not tell Jordan of her resentment toward Tiffany, her oldest sister for refusing to step up and take the five Gernaud children, her resentment toward Bonnie, the second oldest daughter for refusing to take Nicole and her four siblings in.
(Tiffany was unable to step up and be a parent to her three sisters and two brothers; she was renting a room in a home, and had her own baby to look after. Bonnie, the next oldest Gernaud daughter was living with her boyfriend and two, sometimes three other couples in a rented two bedroom home. Just like most resentments though, Nicole’s resentments were based in emotions, not facts.)
Nicole almost screamed with relief when they did enter the ‘Beer & Spirits’ aisle. Striding with purpose, Nicole reached the shelf that held the pint bottles of Albertson’s Gin. She grabbed two, then decided to grab a third bottle. Her anus was already complaining as she thought of Jordan’s cock forcing its way into her rectum, battering into her bowels.
“Hmm, Nulough’s; you ever have Nulough’s vodka?” Jordan asked, looking at the bottles of flavored vodkas.
“I, no,” Nicole snapped.
She wanted to scream at him to please hurry up, get his God damned groceries and come on. Knowing that the gin was right there, right within reach, yet unattainable was driving her mad.
“And the green sticker is…huh!” Jordan said and grabbed a half gallon of Caramel flavored Nulough’s vodka. “Thirty percent of seven ninety nine…”
Nicole looked on and felt her stomach knotting up as Jordan picked up a small tube of KY Jelly and a twelve pack of condoms in the ‘Health & Beauty Aids’ aisle. Her face tightened but she stoically followed Jordan through the last three aisles of the store.
The cashier asked to see Jordan’s ID and Nicole felt a sinking in the pit of her stomach. She’d not even considered that Jordan Cox might not be old enough to buy the alcohol. To her immense relief, Jordan did show his ID and the cashier rang up the several bottles of alcohol.
“Having y’all a party, huh?” Kelli Delacroix, the cute red headed cashier asked pleasantly.