When I was fifteen I started doing odd jobs to earn a buck or two, which I started squirrelling away. At sixteen I was doing part-time work at Maccas and squirrelling away quite a bit more, not having any significant expenses. At eighteen I got my car licence and had enough to buy myself a nice car. OK, it was big and old and needed some loving care but it ran and it was mine. I quickly found that the upkeep cost more than the actual car.
Servicing the car was no problems I could do over ninety percent of the work required myself and probably better than the local mechanic as he was a klutz and I was damned careful about what I did to my own car. I'd be driving it, after all. Registration and insurance was costly but that was a once a year expense and I'd budgeted for the first year when I paid for the car, so I had twelve months before that would bother me again.
Filling the gas tank was an ongoing and expensive problem. I wasn't doing any long trips but the little ones I took drank my gas with a horrible thirst. I went looking for a better part-time job. I found one at the local supermarket. I became one of the people behind the scenes, working at night. I helped in the accepting of deliveries and with the stacking of shelves, things that were done when there were no customers to bother us. Being a rather solid lad I was great for the muscle work that was required and the pay was quite reasonable.
It took me a while to adjust to the night work, what with also having my schooling to worry about, but I managed. I started sleeping for a couple of hours after getting home from school and then catching up with my main sleep after work and before school. My biggest grumble was that I now had the money for gas but no time to go anywhere, except on weekends when I had no school. (I still had to work, though. Supermarkets are open seven days a week and always needing fresh stock and stacked shelves.)
We weren't a very big supermarket and there were only four of us on night work. These were Harry, who was our manager, me, and two girls, Sara and Denice, who worked in the shop, doing most of the actual shelf stacking. Harry was pushing forty and I figured he'd be quite happy to work right where he was for the next thirty years. (Easy work that only required a modicum of brains. Ideal for him.) Sara and Denice were both older than me, in their mid-twenties was my guess. They were like me, looking at the job as a short term prospect that brought in some extra money. I had no doubt that if either of them got whiff of a better job they'd be gone in a flash, and I couldn't blame them.
Sara was a reasonably pretty girl. Dark hair, brown eyes, quite fit (stacking shelves gives you plenty of exercise), and quite a nice figure. She might have been lacking in the bust department for my tastes but I had no intention of dating her so what did my taste matter?
That description could also fit Denise with two exceptions, blonde hair and a decent bust, at least a 'C' cup. Much more to my taste but there again, I wouldn't be dating a woman that much older than me. Juvenile of me, I know, as she wouldn't have been more than seven years older, but men do like girls to be younger and, ah, dare I say, dumber.
I suppose it was because I had zero intentions of making a move on the girls that I got on so well with them. No smutty remarks or innuendo from me made for a more relaxed atmosphere, not that I really noticed being your typical self-absorbed male. I just chatted to them as though they were a couple of my male friends.
This all changed one evening in Spring. It had been a warm day that had carried on over to a warm night and the girls had dressed accordingly. Loose tops and floppy skirts were the order of the day. I noted the change in clothing and promptly filed it under ignore and carried on with my work.
I was carrying out a carton of canned peaches for Denise when the differences between men and women reared up and slapped me across the face. They also gave me a hell of a nudge in my groin. Moving towards Denise with the peaches I found her bending over another carton. Her loose top was really loose and I could see down her gaping neckline all the way to her belly-button. Perhaps I should say I would have been able to but something was blocking my view. Two somethings, actually, her left and right breasts. Those I could see very clearly. Did you notice I didn't mention her bra? That's because she wasn't wearing one.
I guess I froze to the spot, just looking for a little too long. Denise looked up at me.
"What are you staring at?" she demanded.
"Ah, nothing," I said quickly, putting down the box of peaches. "Nothing at all."
"Nothing?" she snapped in an indignant voice. "Are you calling my babies nothing?" She patted her chest to indicate the babies she meant. Seeing she didn't stand up I still had a spectacular view of her babies wobbling about as she patted them. I took an effort of will to jerk my eyes away from that enticing view.
I hastily put the peached down next to where they would be shelved and stood up, prepared to make my getaway.
"I didn't mean to offend," I said quickly.
"I can see that," she said and now it was my turn to blush as she stared at my groin where my erection was making a definite bulge. (When I say it was my turn to blush perhaps I should mention that she hadn't blushed when I was looking at her breasts. She seemed to have just taken it as her due.)
I won't say I was flustered. I just made a strategic retreat. Safely back in the storerooms I spoke firmly to my erection and it sadly drooped again. I got on with moving boxes. Shortly after that Harry came over and gave me a list.
"Take these to aisle three," he told me. "Most of the things there were discounted today and the aisle has nearly been cleaned out."
I grabbed a trolley and started loading it, finally getting all the boxes on. I pushed the trolley out and down to aisle three, walking along quite briskly. The advantage of no customers -- you don't have to worry about flattening grandma or squishing some toddler against the shelves. Reaching the aisle I stepped out from behind the trolley.
"Where do you want this stuff?" I called. "Here or the other end?"
