She wasn't sure who, if anyone, was to blame. Did she start it, that day in the changing room? Or was it him and the way he looked at her? It wasn't really important in the grand scheme of things, but people seemed to be interested.
Margaret had worked there for almost twenty years. The hours suited her when the kids were small. The extra money was nice when they were older and she could do more hours. Now, after the divorce, the job paid the bills and kept her busy. Stocking shelves and sitting at a till was never her chosen career. But the staff were friendly. In fact, some of them were almost like family after all these years
He had started there just a few months before. Half her age, a twenty-something go-getter on the fast track management program. You know the type, chiseled jaw, fast car, gym body, dating a would-be model.
In this case, he was seeing one of the other assistant managers, a tall thin angular stick of a girl. With the body of a catwalk model. Lips like a bouncy castle and the self-confidence to match. The pair of them were so wrapped up in themselves that neither of them even knew Margaret existed.
If they had, then perhaps that skinny bitch would have closed the changing room door, and none of this would have happened. Serves her right.
It was a Monday, early evening. Margaret had pampered herself that weekend and been on a shopping spree. The new black mesh bra and thong she was wearing were far from her usual choice of underwear. But since she had started chatting to guys online, her confidence had begun to grow.
Instead of the usual sports bra to hide her ample 38DD breasts. She bought a sexy, almost transparent, uplift bra which made them stand out. Guys had been noticing her all day long as she sat at the till. Partly thanks to the black bra under a tight white blouse. Which had confused her at first, but by the afternoon she was actually enjoying the attention.
Margaret was going to see a friend straight from work and didn't want to spend the evening in her uniform. So went to the ladies' changing room after her shift. There was no one else around as she opened her locker and took out her jeans and T-shirt. But somewhere in the distance, she could hear voices, getting louder as they came nearer.
She began unbuttoning her white blouse. The buttons, pulled tight over her large bosom, popped free as she released them one by one. She worked her way down to the waistband of her pencil skirt.
The door opened behind her, and the voices continued, discussing something that they no doubt thought was so very important. Margaret turned to look, and standing in the doorway with her back to the room, was that skinny bitch. Beyond her, out in the corridor, was the hot new assistant manager.
Margaret turned to face them. Half expecting them to notice her and apologise. Wondering when the stick girl was going to close the fucking door. She pulled the rest of her blouse from the waist of her skirt as she waited. Then she noticed he was watching her. His eyes glued to her gaping blouse and the big soft breasts bulging from the black mesh bra inside.
Looking back, Margaret was shocked by her own reaction. It seems she didn't even think about it. She just looked the handsome young man in the eye as she unfastened the last button. Then slipped her blouse back off her shoulders.
He stood open-mouthed, watching Margaret over his girlfriend's shoulder. Margaret carefully folded the delicate white shirt and lay it on the bench next to her jeans. Then she twisted to one side. unfastened the zip on the right hip of her skirt, and wriggled it down over her bottom.
Margaret was a little shorter than average. With a fuller figure than average and just a bit of a pot belly. But she was perfectly proportioned, and as the young manager watched her bending down in just her matching black mesh underwear and low heels. Picking her skirt up from around her feet, the words "Fuck me!" leaked in a whisper from his lips.
The skinny princess turned to see what he was looking at. Margaret stood in just her bra and panties on the other side of the room. Her arms were up in the air now. Pulling her long wavy chestnut brown hair back into a ponytail.
Yes, she could have waited until they had left. Yes, she could have put her clothes on before sorting her wild hair out. But Margaret was enjoying the attention, especially as it was from him. And she was wearing nice underwear. For the first time in years. And well, just fuck them.
The changing room door slammed shut and raised voices launched into a full-on fight outside. Blushing outrageously and feeling so very naughty, Margaret stepped into her tight jeans and wriggled them up over her wide hips. Then slipped her T-shirt on over her head. Struggling a little with the ponytail. It was worth it.
As she left the room they were still outside bickering. They fell silent when she appeared, and Margaret was made uncomfortably aware of just how much her tight T-shirt showed off her figure. As the pair of them looked at her, then her tits, before kicking off the fight once again as she walked away.
Margaret told her friend all about it over a bottle of wine that evening, and they laughed so hard.
"You should fuck him," her friend suggested.
"What?" Margaret replied, genuinely shocked. "No, I couldn't; he's a baby. Why would he..."
"He's a big boy now," her friend interrupted, "and from what you say, he'd like to fuck you, so why not? You're young, free, and single, go have some fun while you can."
