This is the twelfth story of my series about my post-marital sexual journey. Read the first story (Babysitter Lauren) or my profile, for any background needed. You may see references to prior stories/people, but for the most part each story stands on its own.
Not everyone likes me or my stories. That's OK.
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Duyen
One afternoon on my way home from work, I stopped into the local Walmart just to grab a cover for a new smoker that I had bought. I waited behind an older gentleman in the checkout line, and there was young black couple behind me.
When I noticed the cashier, I could not take my eyes off of her. She was a very young Asian girl, and she was stunning. Her skin was perfect and she had on makeup that made her look like a porcelain doll. She had a slight frame, but certainly a healthy looking body - maybe just a tad over five feet tall and I'd guess a hundred and twenty pounds or so.
The gentleman in front of me was being quite rude to her, so much so that I could see she was beginning to get upset. And I knew the gentleman was in the wrong because I had been paying close attention.
Finally, when he threatened to call the manager and have her "chink-ass" fired, I stepped in.
"Sir," I said firmly, standing a good eight inches taller. "You're clearly mistaken."
I pointed out his error clearly to him, and when he began to walk away, I said. "Apologize."
His face red, he turned and said meekly, "I'm sorry," and walked away. I wanted to beat his ass.
Her beautiful, big brown eyes thanked me as well as any words ever could, and I noticed an extra glint in them.
It was then my turn. I put my item on the belt and watched her scan it, then put my credit card into the machine. We didn't speak, I was actually speechless for the first time in my life and couldn't even form words in my brain to speak. Our eyes met and we held the stare for the whole transaction. I mumbled thank you as she handed me the receipt, and I quickly left the store, almost embarrassed at myself for being so shy.
I stopped just outside the store to answer a text, sitting on a bench to do so. A minute later the black couple that was behind me in her line came out.
They stopped when they saw me, and the man said, "Bro you better get back in there."
I looked at him, confused, then looked at the woman he was with, thinking that she might correct him, or tell him he had mistaken me for someone else or whatever the confusion was. Instead, she supported him, I guess having had the same thought.
"For real," she said. "That girl was undressing you with her eyes, and you were damn sure fucking her with yours. Get back in there and talk to her!"
"Did she say something?" I asked.
"She didn't need to," said the woman. "She was holding her breath the whole time you were there, and she let out a great big exhale when you walked away. And we were watching you two looking at each other. You coulda fucked her right there in the store."
I didn't know what to say, so I mumbled "Thank you," and went back into the store.
I had no idea what I was going to do. I simply retraced my steps back to her cashier lane, where she was just finishing up with a customer. When she saw me approaching, she flipped a switch and turned off her light, closing her lane for the time being.
I stopped in front of her, unsure, then simply said, "Hi. I'm Phil. Sorry to be so bold, but could I make you dinner some night?"
She smiled the most beautiful smile, then said to me, "Is that really what you want? Make me dinner?"
I smiled back, "well, it's a start."
"I should be making you dinner for what you did to that man. But, I accept."
She wrote something down on a piece of paper and handed it to me.
"I not drive. You pick me up here tomorrow, 6:00 p.m?" she asked.
"Sure thing. What's your name?"
"Duyen. I see you tomorrow, Mr. Phil."
She had an accent, more than just slightly but not a problem to understand. It was like music. Vietnamese I guessed. I wouldn't get much sleep that night, thinking about her.
I was right on time the next day, 6:00 p.m. I pulled in front of the modest, but well-kept manufactured home at the address she gave me, and there she was dressed very nicely in a short skirt, accentuating her shapely legs and firm, round ass; a button up blouse, with a pair of open-toed sandals showing off her tiny feet and painted toenails. She carried a small bag as well.
I got out and opened the door for her, closing it behind her.
Once I was back behind the wheel, I asked her, "Do you live by yourself?"
"No," she answered. "With my mother, but she work night shift at local hotel doing laundry. She think I'm crazy meeting strange man I just meet. She worried, but I tell her, it will be OK, I trust this man"
"Why are you?" I asked.
"I tell you later," she replied mysteriously.