A Short Story - The Tanned Girl

I can't take my eyes off of her toes. They were slightly spread as she stands still, her nails are glossy red, short and expertly pedicured. The slim band across the top her foot is cherry red and her sole arches nicely up to the heel. The soft pink of her round heel has small creases running across it, as other red bands keep her shoe in place. The high cork effect of the wedge must have been six inches at least. I'd have fallen over if I was wearing them.

Her feet are small, I look her up and down, she's short. I'd guess five foot, maybe three or four. She's slight too, but her bottom's defined behind her red calf length chinos. They're folded up to her shins, the brightness of the light reflects from her tanned skin. I look at her feet and her legs, the tan is natural and deep. Holiday bronzing, recent too. She must have gone somewhere nice recently, the Caribbean, Australia, South America? I look her up and down, Caribbean, she looks like a beach honey.

I can imagine her, oiled up, small bikini on, sipping from a coconut, listening to the sea lap the beach and glide back down.

She taps at her phone. Her nails are long, red and definitely fake. I notice no rings on her hands, she's single, or at least unattached.

I look away quickly as she spins on her heel. She looks round, then back momentarily fixing on me, no, looking through me. Her face is pretty, as pretty as a picture. She's not smiling, but her dark hair curls around her face, over her shoulders and down her back.

As she turns her head back staring at the screen in her hand, I smell floral, baked nuts I think. Is it roses? No. I'm not sure, it reminds me of spring, and almonds, that's the nut, and sandalwood. The perfume is quite strong but fades subtly.

I look at her arse, the little pocket on the bum has a button, a red one, matching the fabric. There's a white belt with metal studs through the loops of her trousers. Her black short fit leather jacket reveals it as she moves her hand into her pocket.

A white button shirt is tucked in. It looks like a thin cotton.

Her boyfriend must have a good time with her. He's a high roller, I'd bet, she's the high maintenance bit of candy on his arm, but she works just as hard as him. Independent and strong willed. I'd like a short tryst with her, if I'd take an adventure and test out my bisexuality, it would be with her. I'd enjoy playing with her.

I bet she'd taste sweet. She'd probably eat me for breakfast. I wouldn't complain. Those fingers playing with me, pressing me, sliding in and out of me.

I look her up and down and look up as I feel someone watching me, instinctively I notice a man observing me, as I check her out. I blush, ignoring him.

The queue moves forward and she places her bottle of vodka on the tills conveyor belt. I push my trolley forward with my weekly shop, and start to unload. My little boy quietly eats a chocolate bar as he sits in the trolley facing me.

I'll shave my legs tonight, I'll wear my best bra and panties set, and think of her as my husband has his fun. I watch as she looks around, her face is round, her features are soft. I can see her lashes blink as I study her profile.

The queue moves quickly and she's soon checking out, before walking off.

"Hello!"

I smile back at cashier as I move my trolley along.

I've forgotten about the girl, though my pussy hasn't. I push the trolley with my son to the parent and child spaces. A big black Range Rover drifts past with loud beats pounding from the speakers. The girl gets up eagerly from the bench.

"Lucky man." I mutter.

It must be her friend, she looks glamorous in her short tight dress, as she gets out. Her high sharp heels scrape the ground as she walks.

Oh, that's not how I greet my friends. They both snog, ignoring the people packing their cars.

"What I'd give to be a fly on that bedroom wall?" The man from the shop comments as he walks past.

"Absolutely, right." I catch myself replying.