I often take my work lunch in the parking lot outside a local deli; listen to news, read a book, watch the women as they move from vehicles to the mini-mall stores and back. Such different shapes and personalities; I fantasize about them all.
The 20 something's who stroll in and out of the tanning and nail salon; their painted-on jeans and bare midriffs, tiny tops and bone-lean shape of youth. Ah yes, I recall the flat tummy years; if only I valued more what I had then.
Often I look at young Moms with infants and toddlers. Bending into the back seat to strap the child seats; yes, very pleasant. Thank you Madam. Child bearing adds some nice changes to a woman; rounder, a bit fleshier, more for someone like me to dream of being underneath.
Then there are the older women with even more life in their memory. Some have let preservation of shape lose to years of intake exceeding metabolism; such a shame that they have let go of some level of physical maintenance. But some HAVE maintained the edge. Grown with the maturing changes a woman lives through her life; maintained, no, increased, their confidence, along with their knowledge and experience. That sense; which exudes from a woman-of-age who has lived, likely has mothered; who knows the reality of marriage, or marriages. Ones who have not, through it all, relinquished control to the pull of gravity and the appeal of calories; at least without a damned determined fight.
Yes, these are the women to visually linger upon. To savor the moments of their parking lot stroll; storing the images in this perverted mind of mine. To wonder about being privy to what is beneath their cloth; to stare upon the mature breast, the fuller bottom, the feet with many miles. Dreams. Dreams of serving them, and submitting to them....
Today, there is as fine an example of such a woman as I can recall. She strode with pride, confidence and black strappy sandals. With fitted black slacks that hugged her well; not too tight, yet far from baggy. No panty line and no hose I could detect; perhaps a very brief undie, perhaps not even that. The white blouse with some fabric decoration, and open neck and ample evidence of full, round bosom; indeed, a woman's breasts deserving of lengthy, loving, pleasing attention.
A ring-less left hand I notice, red nails and toes to nearly match the lip color. This is no shrinking middle aged divorcee; this is one who knows her power and the strength of what she is.
I stare. I gawk. I visually study her every step from car to Chinese diner. She may even notice the looks; no reaction though. She dines-in apparently; so plenty of time for me to dream, relive the fresh visual memories and forget the novel earlier I was reading. Time to mentally write my own.
When she returns to her auto, she needs to pass my passenger side; I had lowered that window; just in case. Her stride is slower on the return trip; a full meal perhaps, an allowance for me to gaze a little longer? On passing my front window she makes eye contact; I give a small smile and just a tiny nod; meant to convey the lightest hint of an offer for contact. No response.
As she passes my window she pauses.
"You do this often; don't you?" she asks.
"Pardon me?"
"Stare at us....you do that a lot; don't you?"
"No disrespect intended...but yes, I enjoy looking at beautiful women."
She bends enough to make eye contact.
"No disrespect? MANY of us consider that ultimately so! What in the hell right do you think you have to stare at a woman?"
"You were not invited to do to so." With this she begins to move away.
"Please". I stammer,
She pauses just a moment.
"Please...please, forgive me. You are right; I am wrong to do this. I mean it out of sincere appreciation for a woman...I mean that. Misplaced appreciation? No doubt. Disrespect? Please believe that is not so."
She moves back a step, lowers her head enough for another eye-to-eye; and in a low, even voice she continues.
"Don't fool yourself; you little pig."
"You are a man; and a dirty old one as I see now."
"And one who needs to cease this little noon-time abuse you so obviously look forward to."
I need to say something..."Again, I am sorry. You are correct; I am an old fool. Please do not allow my behavior to spoil such a beautiful afternoon. Good day Madam." I move to start my car.
She seems to snicker a bit; "So, I can smell that you smoke."
I pause; "Yes; I do".
"Good; I have run out and would enjoy one. Come to my car....and give me one."
She walks away, to her vehicle, opens her door, begins to enter; as I leave mine, close my door; move to her passenger side, and join her.
In silence she looks at me and merely offers her hand; fingers open, in the classic gesture. I remove one and she takes it. Between her lips she merely watches my eyes as I light it for her. One puff, maybe two; the exhaled smoke towards my face.
"Camel Lights? Such a compromise; you ARE in doubt who you are; aren't you?"
"I've tried them all; this one is not bad."
She moves her sight from my eyes to straight out the windshield; lowers both of our windows and exhales one or two more outside, in silence.