I first saw her as she walked from her car towards the supermarket.
She was hard to miss, especially in broad daylight. I was parked two rows away and she walked into the Harris Teeter store about twenty steps ahead of me, her tight ass swaying back and forth in her tiny, designer-label jean miniskirt.
The skirt was very short, but the rest of her attire just added to her ultra-sexy look, especially at 2PM on a Tuesday, heading into a grocery store. The muscles in her legs had added definition from the cowgirl-style boots she wore.
The brown leather boots were fashion boots, not Freys. They were nearly knee-high and had 5" tapered heels that ended in pencil-sized stiletto tips. The pointed toe of the boot, functionally used to spur a horse, was accented with stainless steel toe caps that matched the bottom two
inches of the heels. The boots were clearly worn with the purpose of roping in a man by showing off a great pair of slim, toned legs, not to ride western style and rope steers with. Her coltish, deeply tanned legs rose up out of the knee-high boot cuffs and disappeared much later at the hem of her frayed and weathered-look jean mini skirt.
Clearly, the skirt was purchased with the worn spots and simulated wrinkle-wash pattern manufactured into the color, making the skirt look both worn and new. The low-rise skirt skimmed her hips, sitting low on her body and combined with the tied top, it served to accent her long, slim waist and stomach. Sitting so low on her hips, her waist and hipbones were bare, the skirt also ended quickly once it was past her firm ass.
The hem was tight on her thighs, a good deal of stretch denim was designed into the garment, allowing the skirt to be stretched skin tight over her ass like a drumhead stretched over a frame. The skirt stopped just an inch or two below the gentle bottom curve of her little bum. She probably weighed ninety-five or a hundred pounds and I guessed that she stood 5' 1" after subtracting the shoes. Those boots added five inches, maybe a shade more, and from my vantage point behind her as she walked into the grocery store, she had the hip-swing strut, putting each heel in front of her toe and driving her hips back and forth as she walked into the refrigerated air of the market.
It was 98 degrees that day and her top was a little pink bikini top with a see-through white blouse over it, half sleeve and tied tightly just below her bikini in a knot. The shirt was made short and with two tails that were intended to be tied in a knot under the bust. Her bikini top was a bright pink color, smallish triangles, but not tiny little strips of cloth, and looked to be well fitted to her frame, hugging her A+ or B- cups.
To the casual observer, her outfit could have been seen as summer fun, maybe accidentally provocative. It had that "thrown-together" look to the untrained eye. But there was other information that pointed to a different conclusion. I recognized the outfit for what it really was, the carefully planned look of a girl who loved and sought male attention. The whole outfit screamed 'sex-kitten'. For one thing, her make-up was perfect, freshly glossed, pink lips that shined in the bright lights of the supermarket, and her eye-makeup was heavy on the mascara with pink eyeshadow and a tasteful, but generous use of eye-liner.
Second, her western-style leather bag, her arm bangles and big hoop earrings suggested she was fully accessorized for her outing, not an unplanned run to the supermarket for chips and drinks. Rather than accidentally provocative, her outfit was carefully planned to achieve a certain look. Combined with the odd hour of 2PM on a Tuesday, I knew that the way this girl dressed suggested that this girl was a little out of the ordinary.
I went into the store a moment after her, I had planned on grabbing some beer for tonight but that could wait. As I walked in through the sliding glass doors, I created a plan of action on the spot. It was simple, but most good plans are. I wanted to take this girl out and I would use the direct approach and try to compliment her on an aspect of her outfit, and ask her out, ideally for dinner tonight. My guess was that she was dressed up because she was looking for a man rather than dressed up for her boyfriend.
I found her shopping in the refrigerated section with a plastic carry-basket on the floor and selecting yogurt flavors. As I approached, she picked up two from the chest-high shelf and bent over at the waist to place them into her almost empty crate. She practically bent in half, keeping her knees locked as she put the items into the basket on the floor. She definitely had heard me approach, my leather-soled, cap-toe shoes making lots of noise on the hard, polished cement floors covered with a thin film of linoleum.
Had I been directly behind her, rather than sideways to her, I know I would have seen the bare curve of the bottom of her ass and her panties as she bent over. The move was provocative and intentional, girls in tiny, stretch-denim miniskirts don't bend over at the waist at the grocery store unless it is on purpose.
"Very Nice! What kind of yogurt is that?" I asked as I came up on
her halfway down the isle.
"Oh... Um Dannon." she replied, a little surprised that I engaged her in conversation as she looked over at me approaching. She chose to ignore the 'very nice' comment.
"What flavor?" I asked, knowing from a glance at the label that she had two cherry and two peach.
"Cherry." she said smiling.
"Mmmm, cherry is my favorite. I like the fruit at the bottom kind. I love dipping in and stirring it all up slowly to get the sweet cherry flavor mixed up. That's half the fun."
"Hmmmm. You make eating yogurt sound better than it really is." she said.
"Would you like to go to dinner with me tonight?" I asked, getting to the point and being direct.
She studied me for a moment. I could tell she was sizing me up. She saw a clean-shaven guy, short, gel-styled brown hair, green eyes, well-tailored business suit, good looking, athletic, slim build, tall, older than her, two decades older probably. "Maybe, but I don't know you at all."
"That is what my dinner invitation is for. To get acquainted. I'm Mike. I'll pick you up at 6:30 if that's ok. What is your address?"
"I have Bump." she said, pointing to the iPhone on my hip.
"Cool, so that is a 'yes' I take it."
"Um... Yes, I guess it is." she said smiling and absentmindedly twisting a highlighted piece of her brown hair on her index finger.
"What kind of food do you like?" I asked.
We opened our iPhones and bumped, it took 20 seconds. The name Tamara King popped up. Her number, address and email were now in my contact list.
I Iooked up from my phone. "Tamara, So how do I get to...?"
She laughed quickly. "It's Tammy, unless I was being grounded, then it was Tamara Leigh. I live a few blocks away, on Grand. The Grand Summit apartments. Know where it is? 2101 Grand, apartment 316."
I nodded. I knew it well, mostly college students lived there.
"What kind of food is your favorite?" I asked.
"Surprise me. Really anywhere with a real table cloth and white napkins will be a treat. I'm a student and I don't get many nice dinners out."
She said it smiling and showing me her perfectly white teeth all lined up, probably with braces attached by some sadist/orthodontist. She had a very pretty face to go with her rockingly tight, slim 'spinner' body.
"Anything you don't eat?" I probed, making sure she wasn't a vegetarian or allergic to shellfish.
