Note: If you'll read my profile, you'll see that my wife is about which I mainly write. She is the female in this story and this is one of her confessed desires, but not one she wants to actually happen, because after all, it is rape.
The Cost of Convenience
The door opened and the ringing of the bell started and ended before clerk could look up to see who was coming inside from the cold. Jack was 20 years old and he just couldn't figure out exactly what he was going to do next. Never a bad kid, but never real ambitious either. He walked by the line in the door that said he was 6'1" at the Gas Mart. Inside he came, rubbing his hands as he was looked around and scanned the store. Mary was behind the counter and busy with three customers demanding her attention at two registers. Whomever thought up the idea of having two registers and one cashier was a special sort of stupid, but she managed to do the gas and lottery on one and the rest on the other.
Sarah was down one of the isles trying to wrestle some soap from the packaging, because when you're shopping at the Gas Mart, the trade off from going into town and the threat of having to go "under the bridge," you might just find yourself stocking the shelves, or at least taking things out of their cases. How in the world do you expect to sell stuff, if it is in the case? She grabs her soap and a box of cereal, and then because of the cereal, a gallon of milk. You can never *just* come for what you need, you've always got to get some things you want.
Sarah was wearing a simple dress she wore around the house and for quick trips. It was easy to throw on, but easy on the eyes, too. It was a floral print and it came down half way down her thigh with a bit of a snug on her waist with six buttons down the front, and without even noticing it, three buttons were undone. Her hair looked soaking wet. Fresh out of the shower which lasted all of three minutes, she quickly found out she was out of soap, but only *after* washing her hair.
It was 50 degrees outside, but she knew she only had from the door of the house to the door of the car and then to the door of the store, so she risked it. The dress was absolutely a spring and summer dress, but it was her go-to for around the house, even in the coldest of January. Her hair in a knot with chop sticks holding it all together, she was not made up at all, but she was still remarkable. At 25 years old, her husband was in Silicon Valley for a conference, and she was home alone, but not for the first time. He was gone as much as he was home, but not more than she could bear.
As she stood up, Jack was at the end of her isle. He had the intention of walking by to get to the fresh biscuits, but she caught the corner of his eye and he froze. They made eye contact, but nothing abnormal for being 10 feet apart and him standing in her path to the register. He nodded and she said, "Hi"as he stepped to the side.
He was speechless.
Jack looked more like a Matt Damon when we was 20, Sarah thought to herself. She noticed him and thought he was handsome, but never really thought much more about it. By the time she was checked out at the register, it was pouring down rain *and,* as mentioned before, 50 degrees. She turned around at the register and just looked depressed with her challenge in mind as she balked. This is beginning to not be quite as simple as she thought it would be to just waltz out the door and run to the store. Oh, hell no, it has to rain and rain like cats and dogs.
"I can help, if you like, ma'am." Jack offered.
"Well, there's really no reason for both of us to get soaked." She whimpered.
"I can take this army field jacket and spread it out big enough for a pup tent! You and I will both be dry as right now?" He sort of insisted, yet giving her an "out." Jack could be a gentleman, when he wanted to be a gentleman.
"Which car are you driving, ma'am?"
"The Yukon right there at the door." She said, with a smile.
She knew what he was doing. She wasn't naive. Sarah didn't openly flirt. She knew her looks were a tuff thing to deal with for a man, as Jack wasn't the first one to come along with his mouth agape. That being said, Sarah did like a little attention.
As he took his coat off, using his arms for tent poles, the 6'1" man stood tall above her 5'7" frame and almost enveloped her in the shadow of the military issued jacket. She literally wouldn't get anything more than her ankles wet in that mess.
"Ma'am? The door?" He nodded to her to open the door with her free hand.
"Oh,yeah. Here we go."
They just walked the 30 feet or so to the car, even thought the rain was intense. The coat worked like a charm and as she opened up the door of the Yukon, Jeff took the jacket and literally tented the car door opening in a way where a tent was exactly what they had over that small space, with the water rushing off to the left, to the front side of the open door. She took a second to lean over the seat, putting the bags in the passenger seat. As she leaned over, like most women, she had no idea she was arching her back and expressing the simple tailor work on her dress. It hugged her hips and as she reached forward, it let go of her hips as if they had been held for an instant. Her dress hem, now to the bottom of her firm arched ass exposed her ass for about an inch as it came down and gloriously met her leg,
Jack was exactly all over it with his upper legs, gently touching, but touching he was indeed. It was then that he noticed that she wasn't even wearing a bra, while recollecting how he thought that they were incredible in the store; they were just a little bigger than his hands. If she wasn't wearing a bra, the dress hem was absolutely as high as it could be, exposing what he figured was a bear ass.
That's all any man needed.
