I was playing basketball on the corner park by the courthouse. I go down there pretty often with my friend, Tom. It's our final summer before heading to school and we don't have money to travel. There's not much to do but shoot hoops and smoke weed on the park. It's not so bad, when I'm not playing ball I'm reading piles of books or playing around on my dad's gym equipment. Classic, bored 19 year old shit.
I noticed you as you walked down the hill. I always notice a lady in yoga pants and a hurry. Tom had seen you before - he described you as a 'brunette milf that looked kinda like Jennifer Connelly with the height and tits of Salma Hayek'. Tom was dumb, I wouldn't ever use those definitions but for the sake of fast description - sure - that's good enough. I took an eye off the ball and watched you walk quickly down the hill, it was hard to concentrate on basketball. We don't see too much of the female form around this quiet town.
Just as I got my mind back on the game you were coming back up the hill, slower this time with a coop bag pressed against your chest. You noticed me watching you, and since you're older you did that thing that older people do - you spoke to match the eye-contact.
Beautiful day. You said.
Hot. I said.
Too hot! You smiled and slowed down even more, sort of drifting toward the edge of the park, like a person wanting distraction.
Tom shot another hoop, half-attempting to continue our game, half wanting to join our conversation, or whatever it was.
You live Uptown? Tom asked - throwing another ball at the hoop.
Couple of blocks up the hill. Right by the church.
I know the place. Needs paint!
Yes! That's the place. You laughed. - My husband promised to paint but then he's gone away for weeks - done a runner, left it for me to do, the bastard!
Sounds like a smart man. Said Tom.
Right. You nodded, and started to walk off again, adjusting the bag in your arms. You were walking beyond the edge of the court now, and I wanted to keep you talking...
Well, we're on vacation. We could paint the outside of your house. We're at a lose end. I mean, We. Are. Bored.
You slowed again.
That's fine thanks. You laughed. - You sound like Mormon missionaries.
We're no mormons! Tom, like a child, flexed a bicep. It was painful to watch. Funny. Dumb. You laughed, politely.
Oh, you know what though? You got serious. If either of you know how an Apple TV works... you could help me out. It fucks me off, but it's not starting in the mornings... my husband says it's a simple reset, but I have no idea where that is, or how to do it.
It's tricky when you don't know how. Said Tom, but we all knew he was being kind. He'd have ripped into anyone else who couldn't find a reset button.
Well, I have kids ice lollies. You lifted the bag away from your chest - I only want one. You reset my Apple TV and you can have the rest of this box.
Deal. Tom smiled. We put on our t-shirts and jogged to the edge of the park. Tom carried the ball as I reached to take the shopping bag from you. I couldn't help but notice your breasts, big, and cold from where you'd pressed the icey box against them. You caught me eyeing your cleavage, you may have been a bit annoyed - but you blushed a little. And in a micro gesture you were back to composed, and you frowned a little.