Intervention

Author's note: Although ratings are nice, nothing beats a comment or two about what you liked or disliked about a story. Please take a moment to leave one. Thank you.

September, 1983

"Hey Shirley, how about a refill on the coffee?"

The request had come from a tall man in jeans and a checkered shirt sitting near the center of the diner's counter. It had been directed at the short, stocky waitress standing only a few feet away, who was sipping the hot brew from her own cup.

"You know where the pot is, Roy," Shirley Blake said, not taking her eyes off the young couple sitting in a booth on the opposite side of the café as she tried unsuccessfully to listen to their conversation.

Roy was about to say something unflattering about the lousy service, but was stopped by the older man sitting on the stool next to him. George Lewis had lived in Lakeview Heights all his life and had been coming to Gilhooley's for nearly twenty years. If he'd learned anything in that time, it was not to disturb Shirley when she was on her break.

"Just get up and get the coffee, Roy," George said with a good-natured smile, his hand resting on the younger man's shoulder.

Roy took a second look down the counter at the five foot four, hundred-and eighty-pound woman and decided that getting the refill himself might not be a bad idea. It wasn't that the six-foot two trucker feared the woman in the sky-blue service uniform, but he'd heard stories of customers who'd gotten on her bad side and he wasn't eager to find out how many of them might be true. As he got up to refill his cup, Shirley continued what she would never call spying, but rather concerned observation.

The subject of the curly haired brunette's interest, Dean Harriman, was nineteen years old and dressed in dark jeans and a white t-shirt. The dark-haired teen had been sitting at the table for nearly an hour, his head buried in a college textbook, until ten minutes ago when he'd been joined by his girlfriend of four months, Melanie Howard. That was the point when Shirley had become interested, especially since, true to form, Melanie hadn't even bothered to sit down before she'd begun to berate Dean about something.

Wearing white shorts and a short sleeved blue crop top, Melanie, on her arrival, had drawn the attention of nearly everyone in the diner, Shirley included. And while the interest of the half dozen men had been in the girl's attire, or lack of it, Shirley's notice had been for other reasons. Even if she couldn't hear their discussion too clearly, she was willing to bet today's tips that, based just on Melanie's body language, the young couple's relationship was about to hit another bump in the road.

Sure enough, only a few minutes later, the statuesque blonde threw her hands up in frustration and stormed out, leaving Dean with an unhappy look on his face. Seeing her opportunity, Shirley put down her cup and, grabbing one of the coffee pots off the warmer, walked around the counter and over to the booth where the teenager sat.

"So, what was she angry about this time?" Shirley inquired as she refilled his cup.

"What?" Dean said, suddenly aware of her presence.

"What did you do wrong this time?" Shirley clarified.

Dean Harriman was, in Shirley's opinion, one of the good kids. Kid being a term she applied to just about anyone younger than her own forty-two years. He'd bussed tables at Gilhooley's during high school, which was how Shirley had first gotten to know him. Now he worked at his uncle's hardware store while he attended a small college in Bridgewater Falls. The change in jobs had been necessitated by the crazy schedule he had with some of his classes, his uncle being a lot more flexible about what hours he kept than the owner of the diner.

Whatever it was he was supposed to have done; Dean didn't seem to be in the mood to talk about it. Shirley, on the other hand, was just as determined to do so as, without waiting for an invitation, she sat herself down on the opposite bench.

"You know you're going to tell me eventually," Shirley pointed out, "so why not save the both of us some time and just tell me now?"

Having had many discussions with the older woman in the past, Dean had to admit, she was right.

"She wasn't happy with what I got her for her birthday," he said.

"What did you get her?" Shirley asked.

"Her favorite band is playing down in Philadelphia next week," Dean replied. "I got us tickets to go and see them."

"That sounds like a very nice gift," Shirley said. "Why was she mad about it?"

"It wasn't what she wanted," Dean said after a pause.

"And what was that?" the waitress queried.

"A pair of earrings that she was admiring in the window at Sparkles," he answered. "She pointed them out to me last week."

Sparkles, a high-end jewelry store on Main Street, was one of Shirley's favorite places to window shop. In fact, she had done so just the other day on her way into work. Thinking back, she tried to visualize the display in her head.

"Wait a second, we're not talking about the diamond earrings in the center display, are we?" Shirley said.

"Yeah, those are the ones," Dean confirmed. "She was really taken by them."

"I've no doubt that she was," Shirley noted, having admired the set herself, "but those earrings are almost three hundred dollars. Melanie really can't expect you to spend that kind of money on a gift, especially since the two of you have only been dating a few months."

"I know it's a lot," Dean replied, not seeming to have caught her point, "but Melanie checked and Mr. Collins, he's the store owner, said that if I could put down fifty percent now, I could pay the rest of it off in installments."

"And where were you supposed to get the fifty percent?" Shirley asked, thinking even that had to be more than Dean had.

"I've been saving up for one of those new Commodore 64 computers," he replied. "Melanie thought I should take the money from there."

"Oh, did she?" Shirley declared, her tone carrying little surprise. "You do know how dumb an idea that is, don't you, Dean? Never spend money that you don't have yet, especially on a girl you might not even be dating two months from now."

"Actually, I'm not dating her now," Dean replied, "at least not for the next week or so."

"What?" Shirley asked.

"When I told her that I wasn't getting her what she wanted as a gift, Melanie suggested that maybe we should take a break," Dean explained.

"A break to do what?" Shirley asked.

"So that we could reevaluate our future as a couple," Dean replied, repeating Melanie's exact words.

"She actually said that?" Shirley asked.

Dean nodded his head.

In Shirley's mind, a girl who suggested it was time to reevaluate a relationship already had her sights on another one. Either that, or she was using the threat to make her boyfriend more receptive to her desires. After considering both possibilities for a few seconds, the waitress decided that a girl like Melanie might very well be doing both.

"You know, breaking up with Melanie might not be the worst thing that could happen," Shirley offered.

From the expression on Dean's face, it was clear that he certainly thought it was.

"In fact," Shirley continued, ignoring his reaction, "I think it might be a good idea for you to go out with someone else while you're on this break, just to see what it might be like."

"Oh, I couldn't ask anyone else out," Dean quickly replied. "Melanie knows that."

"I'm sure she's counting on that," Shirley said under her breath, too low for Dean to hear, adding to herself that she doubted that Melanie would say the same.

No matter how many times Shirley had tried to persuade Dean that Melanie was screwing him, and not in a good way, it had fallen on deaf ears. Sometimes she thought she had a better chance of convincing him that the Phillies were a better team than the Yankees, which he had been brought up by his Bronx-born father to believe were baseball personified.

Dean had been smitten by the buxom blonde the day she walked into his American History class during the last term of senior year. She, on the other hand, barely seemed to be able to remember his name, even when asking him to help her with some of the homework assignments. Help meaning, in her mind, doing them for her -- which he inevitably did. Infatuated as he was, he just couldn't see how she was taking advantage of him.

Even when she finally agreed to go out on a date with him a month before prom, it had hinged on his writing the term paper that would account for half of their final grade. Shirley remembered how Dean had brought the girl to the diner after the movie for coffee and dessert. Melanie had taken one look at the place and loudly asked if he really expected her to eat in a place like this.

Embarrassed, Dean had quickly backtracked and said that they had only stopped off at the diner so that he could pick up something from his locker, and that they were going to D'Angelo's. D'Angelo's was, in Shirley's opinion, a pretentious eatery where the food wasn't half as good as Gilhooley's, yet cost twice the price. Still, that didn't keep her from calling the head waiter there, who was part of her poker circle, and let him know that Dean was on his way and, if there wasn't a table waiting for him when he got there, she would be greatly disappointed.

That the two of them continued to date after that night surprised more than a few people. They seemed such a mismatched couple.

Dean had just average looks, stood five seven and weighted a hundred and twenty-eight pounds. He didn't play any sports and had a reputation for being somewhat of a nerd. Melanie, on the other hand, was one of the most attractive girls in town. Five six and a hundred and twenty-three pounds, she had a body that could, and often did, stop traffic.

If people looked beyond her looks, however, they quickly realized that Melanie had little going for her. A year older than Dean, having had to repeat her sophomore year, the vivacious blonde had practically majored in cheerleading, with the dream of someday being a Dallas Cowboy Cheerleader. Despite her fervent wish, the Cowboys hadn't come a-calling, and Melanie wound up instead working in her father's bakery. There had been some talk of her attending classes at the local college, but the notion had been put aside when her father learned that Melanie had blown off her orientation tour in favor of a frat party.

Dating Dean, Shirley believed, was part of Melanie's plan to convince her father that she had grown, and thus get him to change his mind. For most of the last year of high school, Melanie had been the girlfriend of Brian Fortelli, of whom Mr. Howard had a very low opinion. A dim bulb with a shiny exterior, much like Melanie, his family owned the town's largest car dealership. Brian was going places, people said, at least as far as his father's money could take him, and Melanie had expected to be going with him.

Two months before graduation, however, Brian managed to get himself into a bit of trouble when he borrowed a sports car from his father's lot and took it out for a joy ride. According to the official report, the Mustang GT was doing over eighty-five when it blew a tire and crashed into a storefront near the edge of town. Thankfully, property damage was all that resulted from the accident, but it had taken all Mr. Fortelli's influence to keep Brian out of jail. A condition of the deal had seen the irresponsible teen leaving town and finishing his education out of the State.

As Dean turned his attention back to the textbook he had been reading, Shirley considered that this might be her best opportunity to finally drive a wedge between him and Melanie. Despite what she had said about their needing to take a break, Shirley was willing to bet the week's tips that the girl's avaricious nature wouldn't allow her to let those concert tickets go unused. It was almost a certainty that she would let Dean stew for a few days, probably no longer than the weekend, and then generously take him back -- properly chastised of course. So, if Shirley was going to do something, she only had that long to do so.

"Dean, I was wondering if you could do me a favor?" Shirley said, causing him to again look up from his book.

"Sure, what do you need?" he replied without hesitation.

"The bathroom faucet in my apartment is dripping and I was wondering if you could take a look at it for me," she said. "I remember you being pretty good with tools and that you fixed the faucet here, so..."

"Sure thing, Shirley," Dean said, cutting her off, "It probably just needs a new washer."

"I'd call a plumber, but they charge so much for every little thing," she went on.

"Think nothing of it," Dean added. "I'd be happy to take a look."

"I mean I'll pay you for your time and ..." she started to say.

"I'm not going to take money from you, you know that," he again interrupted.

"You're so sweet, thank you," Shirley smiled. "Do you think you might be able to come and look at it tomorrow? I know it's Saturday, so I'll understand if ..."

"Tomorrow would be fine," Dean said, again not letting her finish. "I'm working at the hardware store until twelve, so would one o'clock be alright?"

"That would be great," Shirley smiled. "In fact, I'll even order us a pizza from Giovanni's. Since you won't let me pay you, I can at least feed you."

As she got up from her seat and started back to the counter, Shirley was greatly pleased with herself. A quiet lunch, away from the hustle and bustle of the diner, would give her a chance to talk some sense into the kid. Maybe this time she would get him to listen.

Getting up from the table and walking back behind the counter, Shirley poured what was left in the carafe into the sink and proceeded to make a fresh pot. As she did so, she considered that some people might look on what she was doing as an unwarranted intrusion into the young man's life. In her mind, however, what she was doing was for his own good and she was sure he would eventually see it that way too.

"Are you done chit-chatting with your little boy-toy?" Joy Curtis, the other waitress on the schedule, said as she came up to Shirley. "I had to cover both the tables and the counter while you took ..."

The thirty-four-year-old divorcee didn't have a chance to finish before Shirley cut her off. She thought Joy had a lot of nerve complaining about how long anyone took on a break, especially seeing how often the oversexed redhead slipped out into the parking lot to enjoy a quickie in the storage shed or the back of some trucker's eighteen-wheeler.

"Don't get your panties in a bunch, Joy," Shirley said with a sting in her tone. "It wasn't that busy."

"I don't wear pant...." Joy started to reply, then caught herself.

'Why don't I find that surprising?' Shirley laughed softly as she left the coffee brewing and headed toward a customer who had just sat down.

As she lifted her order pad from the pocket in her uniform, Shirley made a mental note as well to remember to loosen one of the nuts on the bathroom faucet handle when she got home tonight. It wouldn't do for there to be no leak when Dean came by tomorrow.

-=-=-=-

Shirley spent the better part of the morning running errands around town and only got back at five to twelve. It was another warm day, and even though she was back in the air-conditioned comfort of home, she decided that a quick shower would be a good idea.

The small three-room apartment sometimes left a lot to be desired, but one of its great positives was the walk-in shower. Put in by an earlier tenant, it took up a full third of the bathroom, but Shirley thought it well worth the sacrifice in space.

Stripping off her loose top and jeans, Shirley looked at herself in the cheap full-length mirror on the back of the bathroom door. Most people, in looking at her reflection, would've just seen an overweight woman, one that they might graciously refer to as chubby and ungraciously as simply fat. The forty-two-year-old saw none of those things, she simply saw herself as she had always seen herself -- and that was beautiful.

And that hadn't been just her opinion. It was a common misconception that girls that looked like Shirley, and those who looked like Karen Greene, who had been the Melanie of her graduating class, didn't get the same kind of guys. That girls like Shirley only got the unwanted, the ones that no one else desired. A statement quite untrue.

Some boys liked a girl with a bit of meat on her bones, and one of those had been Thomas Reeves, star of the track team. Not only had he asked Shirley to Prom, despite having been chased all term by Karen, but later that night he had been the first, but hardly the last, man to share her bed.

The figure that looked back at Shirley weighed maybe a dozen pounds more than the one Thomas had enjoyed after the dance, but it was weight well distributed -- much of it centered around her breasts. Boys, and later men, had always loved her breasts, not just for their size and softness, but for what she could do with them. They didn't have any complaints about the rest of her body either, as she was unquestionably all woman.

The water she had previous turned on soon reached the desired temperature, allowing Shirley to open the glass door and step inside. The pleasing warmth that splashed across her body brought a satisfied smile as she reached for a washcloth with one hand and a bar of soap with the other. In no time at all, the cloth was covered with a thick foam which she proceeded to cover her body with.

The press of hands against flesh, even if they were her own, felt good, especially when they pressed against her breasts, first with the washcloth, then with bare skin. Her nipples came to life as her fingers massaged them, tweaking each to their full quarter inch length as a delightful sensation spread throughout her body. A glance through the partially steamed glass at the small clock on the wall said she still had time. Well, at least enough time to indulge herself a little.

With one hand still playing with her breasts, Shirley lowered the other down between her legs where, after shifting her body to rinse away any remaining soap from that area, she slipped two fingers inside the heavily haired mound. An action that brought a loud, pleasing moan from her lips as she leaned back against the tiled wall and closed her eyes.

It didn't take long to reach her desired result; it never did. After all, she had first discovered the joys of masturbation before her thirteenth birthday and had gotten a lot of practice in the years since. There wasn't an inch of her body that she wasn't intimately familiar with.

The orgasm that burst upon her a few minutes later was a small one, but pleasing nevertheless. She would've liked to have spent more time taking care of herself, but she still needed to loosen that handle on the sink, as she had forgotten to do so last night.

-=-=-=-

"Turns out it didn't even need a new washer," Dean, who in deference to the warm weather had come over in shorts and a t-shirt, said as he stepped out of the bathroom and back into the living room. "The valve was just a little loose."

"Was that all?" Shirley, who had replaced the slacks and top from this morning with a simple blue sundress, replied in a self-deprecating tone. "Now I feel silly having you come all the way over here just for that."

"That's okay, I didn't mind," Dean said, an understanding smile on his face. "At least it's not leaking anymore."

"Well, it's just as well that it was something simple," Shirley added, "because that doorbell you heard a few minutes ago was the pizza arriving."

Dean hadn't heard the bell ring, but the aroma of Giovanni's Finest emanating from the kitchen had already alerted him to the fact.