May:
I sat in the breakroom of the cellphone store, taking my thirty-minute lunch break. I pulled up Facebook and scrolled while I took bites of an Arby's turkey sandwich. Facebook, as usual, was a desolate wasteland of people posting the most idiotic things, such as what they had for lunch or their political views.
As I took the last bite of my sandwich, I scrolled down on my Facebook feed and saw a post from Shanda, an old coworker. Shanda was a mature woman, in her mid-forties, and she had worked the front desk at the power company where I used to work. My mother had gotten me the job at the power company, where she had been the billing clerk for the last twenty years. I fondly reminisced about working with Shanda, who had a great sense of humor and who was, in my opinion, very attractive.
In this social media post, Shanda had shared a picture of her standing with her two teenaged sons. She was shorter than both of her sons, standing at around 5'2", and her proportions were mouth-wateringly perfect for my tastes. She had shoulder-length brown hair, a very pretty face with a button-nose, a wide waist, a little pooch of a belly, thick thighs, and a huge pair of tits. I had always wanted to see those big tits, but, of course, I had never had the opportunity. For one, she was much older and had children, and she had been married for more than twenty years. Her husband, as I had gathered, was a piece of shit.
My urge to message Shanda at that moment was too tempting, so I clicked on her profile and hit the 'Message' button. The Messenger window popped up, and I sat there staring at it for a few moments.
'What should I say?' I asked myself.
I decided to start with something innocent, typing, "Hey, how are you?"
While this may seem innocent, of course my intentions were far deeper than simply wanting to check in on Shanda. I hadn't even seen her since I left the power company years ago, so she would undoubtedly wonder why I had messaged her out-of-the-blue.
While I waited for her to see the message, I finished my lunch. She still hadn't seen the message at the end of my lunch break, so I was forced to return to the sales floor and continue my shift.
When I got to the sales floor, there was a family standing at the door waiting for someone to assist them. I quickly turned on my salesman switch and greeted the family.
"Hey there, how can I help you guys?"
The man, obviously the father to the young man standing behind him, said, "We're looking to upgrade our phones."
"Okay, let's see if I can help you with that," I replied, guiding the father, mother, and son over to the newest display of iPhones.
After completing the sale, I proceeded to assist the customers with transferring their information to their new phones. During this part of the transaction, my sales pitches were over, and it was just a waiting game.
During a lull in the conversation, I pulled my phone out of my pocket and noticed that I had a Messenger notification. I nervous lump formed in my throat, and I nonchalantly tapped on the notification, seeing that it was from Shanda.
"Hey! I'm doing good, how have you been?"
I smiled slightly, and quickly typed, "Oh, I'm doing great. Just working my life away, helping some customers set up their new phones."
I left my phone on the counter where I could see notifications light up on my screen, and I continued to talk to my customers. Any conversation at this point was just banter, and it was easy enough to bullshit my way through it.
I saw another notification and picked my phone up.
"Oh yeah, I forgot that you were selling phones now. How do you like that job?" Shanda had messaged.
I replied, "It's not too bad. I'm not really the best salesman, but the money is decent. Where are you working now?"
She replied quickly, "I'm working in an office for the Boone community services, keeping track of grants for special needs children."
I couldn't reply immediately, having customers right in front of me. Luckily their information transfers were completed, and I was able to send them on their way.
With no customers waiting on the sales floor, I was able to continue my conversation with Shanda without hinderance.
"That's awesome! I bet that job makes you feel a lot better than working at the power company," I texted.
I watched the bubbles pop up as she was typing, and the nervousness and lump in my throat had mostly subsided at this point.
"It's better than the power company. I enjoy seeing the kids get the help they need, and it makes me feel good about my job," Shanda replied. Before I could send a reply, she texted again, "I didn't expect a message from you. Why did you message me?"
The nervous lump in my throat returned in full force, knowing that the moment of truth lay before me.
"I just hadn't seen you in forever, and I thought I'd check in with you, see how you were doing," I replied.
"Really? It's just really random. I know we used to work together, but we never really talked that much," Shanda typed.
"I know, I was always too nervous to talk to you, honestly," I replied, hoping to steer the conversation around to WHY I had been nervous to talk to her.
Shanda replied, "Why in the world would you be nervous to talk to me?"
"Well, I always thought you were really hot."
"Hot? I'm old enough to be your mother. Hell, I worked with your mother!"
"You're younger than my mom! Plus, I like older women." I knew this was the riskiest part of the conversation, and there was absolutely a possibility that Shanda would be upset enough by my forwardness to tell my mother.
"You like older women? I would have never guessed that," Shanda replied. I breathed a soft sigh of relief, believing that the danger may not be too great.
I remember sitting there at this point thinking, 'It's now or never. The worst that could happen is that she tells my mother about this, and I end up embarrassed.'
"Well, I like older women, and I'm a boob guy. I always wished I could have seen yours," I typed, and hit 'Send.'
I waited with bated breath. The bubble at the bottom of the screen indicated that Shanda was typing her response.
"I do have big boobs. You realize that I'm married, right?"
I grinned, the nervous lump in my throat disappeared, and I knew this conversation had taken the turn that I had hoped it would take.
Instead of acknowledging her comment about having a husband, I replied, "So, what are you wearing right now?"
Instead of a text reply, in a few moments she sent a picture. The picture did not show her face, only her chest. She had on a modestly low-cut black blouse, showing only the smallest amount of cleavage; however, the black shirt was slightly transparent, giving me the smallest glimpse of a black bra and large, full breasts between the cups of the bra. I swallowed hard, staring at her perfect chest.
"Omg, I was not expecting that. I love it. Your shirt looks so good on you," I replied.
