Barbara (Babs, to her friends) took a deep breath, then opened the front door. The delivery guy looked up sharply and said, "Mrs. Snow? I've got two packages for..." He never finished the sentence as his eyes widened.
Inside, Babs cringed. Outwardly, she tried not to show any emotion, as if it was normal for a woman in this tony neighborhood to answer her door wearing a cheerleading outfit. Especially an abbreviated hot-weather outfit which had fit her like a glove six years earlier. Not that she'd grown fat, heavens, no. But, she had grown into a woman of twenty-eight, which meant that her 36D-sized tits were straining the 34C-sized elastic halter top, under which a bra couldn't be worn, and her hips had rounded a little since last encased in the low-riding skirt. It was a short skirt, too, which exposed most of her legs down to her sneaker-clad feet.
And so the delivery man--a college kid, maybe--had little choice but to run his eyes up and down her body. It quickly increased Babs' nervousness, and she wanted to limit her exposure, so...
"Packages? For me?"
"Ah, yeah... I, uh, I mean, yes, ma'am. You have to sign for them." Babs took the clipboard from the guy and tried to ignore his staring eyes as she signed the delivery receipt. She handed back the clipboard, took the packages as he lethargically proffered them, and turned to close the door.
"Ma'am? Wait! One of the packages is a 'special-fragile,' and I have to verify that the contents are okay?" Babs turned back to him.
"What?"
"You have to open the package to make sure that the contents are okay, or else you can't claim any damages." She sighed, anxious to end this encounter.
"Okay, let me get scissors."
"I've got a box cutter here." Babs leaned over to hold out the box but saw that his eyes weren't on the box. She reached out and took the cutter from him, extended the blade, and sliced the sealing tape on the package. As she tried to open the top of the box, she jerked it from her hands. It fell to the porch, spilling its contents.
If Babs had been embarrassed before, she was mortified now. Laying on the porch between her and the delivery guy was a plastic bottle of 'Sex Oil,' a black, eighteen-inch long 'Rump Reamer,' and a bright pink, two-foot long, double-headed dildo.
He gawked at the sex toys for a second, then said, "Um, I'll get those." Babs closed her eyes and screamed to herself as he dropped to one knee, unable to notice him staring up her short skirt. He put everything into the box and stood, offering it to Babs. She opened her eyes and took the box, grateful that the encounter was over.
"Uh, ma'am? That wasn't the right box."
"What?"
'You opened the wrong box. I need to see inside the other one."
Babs sighed deeply, switched the order of the boxes, and sliced open the second one. She opened it more carefully, trying to see if any more surprises lay within. The guy craned his neck, too, but he seemed more interested in checking out her cleavage than the contents.