"Well, what are you going to do with yourself?" my boss asked me at my retirement party.
I gave my usual answer; "I've got some chores waiting for me at the house and there is always fishing. In the spring, I plan to travel south to see the grandkids. Really, I'm just looking forward to living a non-rush hour life."
At 58 I had decided to retire from the lumberyard. Marge, my wife of thirty-five years, had pasted away the year before. The house was paid for and I had enough money for my golden years, so why should I still working full-time? The kids were grown and had families of their own states away. I was getting out of the rat race and I was going to take it easy.
The first couple of months went by quickly as I was busy with all the projects that I had put off knowing that retirement was just around the corner. I got more fishing in than I had in the last two years. I was surprised though by how quickly I become bored. I began thinking about getting involved with something to keep me active and involved.
"What would I like to do? What had I enjoyed the most in my life?" I pondered these questions as I glanced over the want ads in the newspaper. My eyes clicked on a part-time sales position at a local shoe store. "Hee hee," I laughed. "Oh, those were some great days," I said to myself, "I remember..."
I was a shoe salesman before Al Bundy made it cool. Picture me in the 1970's: longish hair wearing a suit with wide lapels and colorful, wide ties. I'm in my early twenties and I have stumbled into the perfect job for a voyeur. Forget pictures or video feeds, I'm talking almost daily in person down blouse and upskirt shots!
I remember well that rewarding era of no bras and mini-skirts. What a revelation when I learned I could get paid to look down girl's shirts.
I had graduated High School with no plans to go to college. I tried a couple of construction jobs, but I didn't like having to arrive on the job site at 6:30 in the morning and working all day in the hot sun. One day, I was complaining to my Uncle about another miserable day digging ditches.
Uncle Charlie, who worked part-time at a shoe store, said, "A new store is opening and they need sales people. The job requirements are minimally. All they're hoping for are people who don't steal and who show up on time. This could be perfect for you. Sleep until nine and work in an air conditioned store."
I decided to give it a try. My store was in a little shopping mall near a college. I learned early to keep a sharp eye out for my two target groups. The first were women not wearing bras. Oh the joy and anticipation I would feel when I saw unrestrained breasts bouncing, jumbling and rumbling about as the liberated females walked into the store. My second favorite group was trim, attractive, short-skirted women. I quickly worked up a plan to take advantage of each group.
The strategy I perfected for the braless lasses was to open the box of shoes and to place it at their feet. They would nature lean forward to pick up the shoe and try them on. Oh the nipples and breast meat I saw as their shirts fell open. Or I could stand slightly to the side to get a deeper view down their shirt as they tried the shoes on. Daily a perfect down blouse shot was almost guaranteed because so many of the women had nothing on under their shirt or blouse. Viva women's liberation!
One evening a college co-ed came in to my store. She was a cute little thing barely five feet tall with her long brown hair tied into a braid. She had on the usual college girl outfit. A tight cotton tee shirt with a scoop neckline that extended down to the top of her surprising lush breasts. Of course, she was not wearing a bra she was "woman hear me roar." She also had on a pair of blue jeans.
"I would like to try on those clogs you have in the window. Do you think you have a size 5? I like the pink ones. The tan ones are nice too."
"Have a seat. Let me see what we have," I answered.
Smiling at my good fortune, I headed into the back. Oh, there was no doubt I was going to return with something for her to try on. I found a size five in pink and in black. I also brought out a size 6 in tan.
My prey was sitting when I returned. I sat two of the boxes down on a chair out of her reach. I opened up the box with the tan clogs and set them by her feet saying, "I only have these in a six. Why don't you give them a try?"
Exactly as I had hoped, she bent over to pick up the right shoe. I was standing in front of her and got a great view of both breasts. Her boobs rolled out all creamy and white. She held the shoe up and said, "I'm afraid a six will be too big." She bent over to set the shoe on the floor beside its mate and much to my delight, repeated the showing of her twin peaks.
As she stood up she said, "I feel like I'm swimming in these. What are in the other two boxes?" She slipped her feet out of the tan shoes.
"I have the pink and black clogs in a size five."
I knew better than to set the clogs out on the floor. They were so easy to slip on I would never have a chance to spy her nipple. So I took the top off the box of pink clogs and left they nestled beside each other in the box. I sat that box on the chair next to her.
My little beauty sat down and took both shoes out of the box. She picked them up and looked them over. I was now standing off to her right. As she bent over to place the shoes upright on the floor, I got a great view of her left breast including her little pink nipple. The friction of her bare breast rubbing against the cotton shirt had her nipples hard. I saw white breast meat topped off with a good eraser-size pointed nipple.