The day started like any week day, my husband is up and ready for work, we share coffee together and I send him on his way, what a rut. I'm only 27 years old and the thrill seems to have left. Day in and day out the same thing. My day grinds on, I clean around the house. Tea, soft music, and the monotony of my day settles in around me, my familiar boredom takes hold. I doubt my man thinks of me through out the day. It doesn't feel like it any way.
Time to do the shopping. I'll dress to be noticed. No bra. I'm young, the twins stand alone, despite there 36D size. Looking, looking, yes a nice fuzzy pink sweater, stretch denim jeans and my fabulous heels. Hair check, perfume check, make up check, whore red lipstick, beautiful eyes, I'll make them see me and off I go. My heart beats heavy, I know they'll look. I know they'll want. I know they'll talk. I'll be that one in a million. I drive to the next town. No one will know me there. I pull into the parking lot and park far away from the door. I get out of the car and strut to the entrance. It's just past mid day, the retired men and there wives are the only ones to spy me. I can hear the wives speaking to the gawking husbands.
"Why would a young lady dress that way? She looks like a street walker. Charles are you listening to me?"
"Ya-yes dear. Terrible."
I can feel their eyes on my tits, my ass, my body. I can feel their desire. That's it, that's what I'm after. I'm in the store now. Lines of check out counters pen cashers in, huffing as they beep the endless lines of Enfamil and stool softeners. Klick-Klick-Klick, that distinctive sound heels make on tile floors, sends the eyes of people around me in my direction. I put a little bounce in my step, to make my breasts heave as I walk to the shopping carts. I catch the eye of a young bag boy, drawn to the unexpected sound of high heals at mid-day. His head falls forward ever so slightly when he sees me, he doesn't even realize that he's looking to long but I do. I remove my sunglasses and flip my dark curls to draw him in closer.
"Benny, price check!" the casher says a bit too loud snapping him out of his trance.
"Ya-sure" and off he goes.
I move to the carts and pull one out a little too hard, my chest bounces in response. Out comes my list and a shopping I will go. Is this what I wanted? Is the experience setting me at ease? Yes, yes it is. Thought the store they talk, they look, they want. I finish the shopping and I move my full cart to the check out. The old men in line make small talk and stand a little to close. The smooth confidence these men possess is a far cry from the testosterone laden young men who hit on me. I can hardly notice what's running through their minds. My turn comes up; the tired bitch at the register sighs and sets to work.
Benny makes his way to the end of the counter stealing looks, trying not to be noticed. One bag after another makes its way into my cart.
"That's two fifty three seventeen." I pay and walk towards Benny.
"Need any help?" he says, looking down.
"Yes this is a bit much for me to handle." I move to grab the cart and Benny moves in before me.
"I'm parked a little far out." I say, as I walk in front of the cart so he can see me. I exaggerate the switch in my hips; I know he's staring at me. I love these jeans... "How old are you Benny?" I say in a drawn out breathy voice.
"Nineteen, I go to school at night." his voice cracks slightly as I look back.
"School huh?"
I get the feeling that I could give him something to tell his friends about. Could I? Do I have it in me? Would guilt rule my days? After all he's a total stranger and our paths would never pass again. We get to my car and I popped the trunk. I stand close while he loads the car. I know the breeze is carrying my perfume to him. Every time he bends over to put another bag in the trunk his head passes close to my tits. I swear I could see a bead of sweat on his temple. He closes the trunk.
"Well there you have it." he says.
I could have him I'm sure. Where? I see a privacy fence enclosing a dumpster, and I've made my decision.