The author does not condone the lack of social distancing in this story, and believes in the use of facial coverings.
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Olivia hooks the plastic basket into the crook of her arm, flinching as the spray of the cold hand sanitizer strikes both palms. She adjusts the unfamiliar face mask, as she wanders through the fruit and vegetable section, dropping a hard avocado next to a couple of apples, absently wondering if she will remember to use it before it becomes too soft to be edible.
It is late at night, the supermarket quiet, with most people at home. She shivers, her cotton sundress which had felt like one layer too many in the New York night heat, now inadequate in the air conditioned store. Her nipples harden, she shrugs her shoulders, trying to relive the pressure, but only succeeding in creating a pleasing friction. Fuck she is so horny. Damn Virus. She continues on, taking her time, browsing the aisles, just glad to be outside the four walls of her apartment.
She makes her way to the baby section, checking to see if anyone is around before ducking down the aisle. Halfway down, past the unending wall of nappies, she spots the item she has come for, the one thing she doesn't add to her online home delivery order. As she compares the specials, she reaches down to grab a bottle of baby oil off the shelf, and steps back, quickly dropping it into her basket.
"Ooffph" she hears, and she steps back into a hard lump.
Turning around to apologise she is faced with a white t-shirt stretched across a broad chest. She bites down on a moan, and drags her eyes up, into a pair of piercing, sky blue eyes peeking out at her above a surgical mask. She stands, mesmerised, her mind blank, her body reacting with a burst of fire in her belly, and a dampness in her panties.
"Just the essentials?" he asks, his eyes dropping pointedly into her basket.
She moans in embarrassment and realisation, it is her neighbour. Of course, she thinks, in a city of 8 million people, she would have to get sprung on her secret mission by the hot guy from next door.
"They don't have everything I'm looking for, but in these times, a girl has to make do." She raises an eyebrow, turns, striding back down the aisle, hurrying to the self check-out, trying to run from the humiliation.
She scans her items, throwing them into her hessian bag. Unbelievable, she thinks, finally getting the courage to speak to her sexy neighbour, and these are the circumstances. Wonderful first impression.
She takes a deep breath, her face mask hampering the simple task, and tries to steady her nerves as she starts the walk home. The air is heavy, the heat hits her like a wave as she steps onto the street. New York is quiet, even for a Tuesday night, the sounds of the city a faint echo of the familiar beat.
She hits the button on the crosswalk, now acutely aware of the germs on everything, and stares up at the red hand in the yellow box, waiting.
Her world glows white for a split second, and she jumps as a bolt of thunder cracks in the empty street, echoing across the city. Her white man appears, at the same time as the rain, bucketing down. She hesitates, looking over her shoulder, a tall office building runs from the pavement to the sky in one solid glass plane.
She makes a run across the street, her feet splashing in puddles already forming on top the black and white crosswalk. She stops under the awning of the first shop, a cute little French pastry place, somewhere she likes to pick up a treat, on the rare weeks between no gluten, no carb, or whatever similar, no fun diet she is on at the time. She huddles against the glass window, the awning is retracted, and she soon realised the one foot of material is no cover from the storm. She moves further down the shop front, into the narrow doorway.
She sighs as she watches the rain fall in the street, realising she even misses the umbrella sellers that used to pop out from nowhere with their overpriced, good for one use only, products.
