Even the old ladies were getting into it. Over at old Mrs. Grinson's magazine store, Tommy McClintock walked up to the counter and asked for a pack of Marlboro's. The age for buying cigarettes was 21 in this state. Since everybody knew Tommy was only 18, he just thought he'd take a shot -- maybe the old lady was senile or something.
At 58, Mrs. Grinson was far from senile and no shrinking violet, either. She had watched Tommy grow up into the little stud that he so obviously was. She had always been a little intrigued by the big basket he always showed -- but he obviously wore briefs -- she couldn't make out any real details. She often wondered if he was really that big, or if he maybe stuffed his crotch.
Never one to pass up a chance -- she knew he was one of the bagboys at the Piggly-Wiggly -- she decided to find out. "Well, son, what've you got to offer me that's interesting enough to make me forget to ask for ID? I do sometimes forget to ask, you know." She eyed his bulging basket, knowing full well that subtlety was wasted on teenaged boys.
Tommy couldn't believe his ears. Hell, he couldn't believe his eyes! Was old lady Grinson scoping him out? He couldn't believe it! He didn't dare say anything. "Um, well... I don't know. I... uh, uh..."
Mrs. Grinson realized she was going to have to be very clear with this one -- he was just as dumb as she thought. "Well, one thing I've always been curious about, Tommy -- what's your waist size?"
That threw him completely. "Huh? Uh... well, about 29, I think." He looked at her hopefully... would that be enough for a pack of smokes?
Evidently not. She smiled oddly. "I suppose your underpants would be the same size?"
Tommy flushed a little. What was she doing, talking about his briefs? Maybe she had been scoping him. "Uh... yeah, sure." He glanced around, hoping nobody else was overhearing any of this. Nope. All clear.
"Well, then, Tommy, that's kind of a hobby of mine -- guessing people's waist sizes."
Whoa! This broad must lead some dull life.
"But the thing is, I don't like to take anybody's word for it. People lie, you know, Tommy. They do, sometimes." She grinned at him. "Come back here behind the counter -- I don't want to embarrass you -- and let me just check the sizes. They're usually on a label somewhere."
This broad definitely had a screw loose. He wasn't about to have anybody poking around in his pants, for Chris'sake.
He thought for a minute. On the other hand, she'd practically promised him a pack of cigarettes, and he really needed one. It wasn't really any big deal, checking out a couple of tabs. They were right at the waist, after all. Oh, hell, there was no one around.
"Uh... OK. And then you'll sell me the smokes, right?"
"Sure, sure. Come on, get back here. I'll lock up and pull the blinds -- wouldn't want anyone to come in and see me bending the law." She quickly flipped the lock and closed the blinds. No witnesses.
"Since the store's closed, let's go back here -- more room." She led the stupid kid into the back room. "Here -- let's have a look."
She sat on a straight-backed chair and pulled him over in front of her. Before he could react, she reached up, unbuckled his belt, flipped the snap and pulled down his zipper. "There -- that way I can get in there to see the sizes." He started to jerk away, but then paused, confused by her words. With one jerk, she pulled the jeans down to mid-thigh. The kid's huge basket bounced out at her -- looked pretty real, so far.
His face turned bright red. "Hey! What you doin'? Cut it out! Hey!"
"Oh, shut up and turn around!" She jerked him off-balance and whipped him around until his brief-covered ass was jiggling in front of her face. She reached down for the jeans and ostentatiously pulled out the size tab. "I'm a little near-sighted." She pulled the tab right up to his asscrack and leaned forward until her face was practically pressed into his backside. "Sure enough - 29. I guess you were right about the jeans, anyway."
