Colder than a brass bra in Alaska. Damn I can't wait for summer. Of course then I'll be dying for winter again. Weather is all messed up these days. As I walk through the mall, seems every man, even a few women, is staring at me. I love the attention I get. Always been an attention whore and I play my looks up to squeeze every last drop out of people. These days, I'm not so bad looking for a 43 year old chick. I giggle at the thought of myself as a 'chick'.
After college, I caught on to what guys wanted to see, how to get their attention. I pretty much already knew, just I refined my skils. When I was home during holidays, my Dad, my Uncle, both of them were always trying steal a peek up by skirt, my nightgown, down my blouse. I'd flash them, they'd get a boner, my pussy would cream, we'd all be happy. They had no problem letting me sit in their laps. I could feel their hard cock poking up against my ass. When Mom or Auntie, weren't in the room, I'd reach down and touch it through their pants. I loved the feel of a hard cock through cloth. They didn't want me, I didn't want them. We all just wanted the thrill of peeking without being caught. A few times I could have sworn that even Auntie peeked at me. When I sat in her lap, I think she was just too timid to try touching me. Oh I believe she wanted too, very much so. Once I let my hand slide slowly across her breast, even lingering for a moment longer than necessary, but she never took the hint.
I'm sitting in the food court remembering things, in a time not so long ago. I must have been about 38, maybe 39, could have been nearly 40, that wonderful day. Some days just standout in one's life more than others. I didn't mean to meet Ben. It just happened. I remember the day so much more than when.
I looked in the window of a store, not to see what they have, but to check out the reflection of myself, to admire how I looked. Sounds snobby, stuck up. I know. I hear that from people. Sometimes beauty like mine can be a curse. Some days I dress a lot more casual just to not be so obvious, not to stand out so much. Doesn't seem to help much.
The reflection is nice. A tall woman, slim; lovely cream colored short sleeved sweater, not buttoned up far; skirt that ends just above the knees on long slim legs, bare, no stockings; and heals, not high, but enough to highlight my calves. Nice arms, nice hands, long fingers, nice nails. What I'd really like to do is hike my skirt and show my pussy to my reflection. I love to stand in front of a mirror and flash myself. Just the tiniest thought of doing that makes me moist between the legs.
Ah, a shoe store. Bet I could have some fun in there. Just inside the store, I grab a loafer from the shelf, hold it in my hands, turning it this way and that. Not bad looking, but probably would never wear such a shoe.
"Would you like to try that on?" I know the 2 guys were fighting over who would help me, I heard them talking as I picked it up.
"So you're the lucky one today." I sat in a chair and held my foot out for him to remove the shoe.
"What size?"
"Don't know. Maybe you could be a darling and measure?" Just let the sultry tone work its wonders.
John, that's what his name tag said at least, for all I knew, they had traded name tags, held my ankle and removed my shoe. His glaze was on me, not my foot, not my shoe, not the loafer. His hand almost missed my shoe the first time he reached for it. His hand shook with my ankle in his grasp. He put my foot in the measuring gadget and moved the little knobs around on it.
"Be right back."
"I hope so John." I said in the most sensual voice I could muster. He stumbled over nothing and almost fell.
He returned with 2 boxes.
"I'm Cindy." I held my hand out.
"Enchanted." What a silly response. Just a boy, maybe 20, not good at guessing ages, not all that bad looking. He smiled as he shook my hand, his fingers lingering over mine as he started to let go. His voice breaking up a little even though he only said one word. Maybe that was all he could get out. 'Enchanted' my ass, probably too many English Lit. classes.
He lifted my foot. I moved it a bit to one side, my knee a little higher than it needed to be, just enough he could see up the inside of my thigh. Though he could not see all the way up, I knew he had a great view. The poor boy was frightfully shaken and couldn't get the loafer on my foot.
"Need a hand dear?" I moved the other foot some as I leaned forward a little. Now he had a clear shot to my pussy plus he could see all the way down by sweater, nothing inside except my breasts, and erect nipples that he probably could also see.
"T t ta thanks." Some guys are too easy. Never grow up.
I reached down and took the loafer from his hands, touching his fingers, the back of his hand, stroking it a little, and slipped it on my foot while carefully spreading my legs a little more.
"That's nice John."
"It sure is Cindy. Prettiest one I've seen." I knew he wasn't talking about the loafer, not even close. He was staring right at the other end of my leg. Doubted he had ever seen a pussy or even knew what they looked like.
I wiggled my bottom a little in the chair, just enough to make my skirt ride up a little. I reached down and pulled on the bottom part of the skirt some. An excuse. At the same time I touched my pussy with my fingers, just enough to get some of the moisture on my finger tips. I put only one in my mouth. "Hmmm." I moaned deeply.
I held my hand out towards him, a finger I had not licked pointed out. He looked around, afraid, no one near, and he kissed that finger. He said nothing.
"You know John, I don't think this shoe looks right on me."
"Maybe you can show me something else ... I mean maybe I can show ..." He stammered.
"I understand John. Yes maybe I can ... another day."
I took the loafer off and put my shoe on, stood, and walked toward the door. Just before I walked into the mall, I turned and waved to the two guys who were carrying on an animated conversation. Wonder what it was about? Te He.
Windows were great for seeing someone staring at me without looking directly at them. Oh I'd caught a lot of great looks that way. Even a few people touching themselves while watching me. God, that would make me hot. I know most people think I have a different guy every night, or could if I wanted. And I could. But that's not what I want. I just want to show my pussy. Know that probably sounds strange. Desperate maybe. Depraved even. To me, pleasant.
Shop after shop, store window after store window. I would catch my reflection in some windows. 'Who's that hot looking slut?' I wondered quietly to myself. 'Bet she has a fine looking pussy.'
A travel agency had posters of the Caribbean in their window. 'Bahamas $399 with hotel', 'Jamaica $270 plus airfare'. I stood and dreamed.
"Bet you'd love to lay on the beach in Jamaica? Maybe a tall rum punch in hand."
