Ms. Consensual - Round 01

Chapter 1: "It's unfortunate what we find pleasing to the touch and pleasing to the eye is seldom the same"

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"It's a waste of time opening up; nobody's gonna show, Charlie."

"Doesn't mean I ain't gonna do it; some of us have responsibilities, Jaun."

"You think anybody's gonna come here when there's a big box outlet right across the street, man?" My best friend shouted gesturing right across the street to the veritable mini mall converted from an out of business Fry's Electronics store. It was a sprawling affair with an acre of parking space facing the small corner store I'd worked at for the last five years with my now ailing grandfather.

"You can go I'm gonna do my job, Juan; my folks are counting on me to hold the line down here while they figure out what to do with my grump's stuff. One of his ex-wives is trying to claim power of attorney because some shit was fubbed on their do it yourself divorce, pretty messed up stuff, huh?"

"Oh yeah, which one; is it Conseuala the one with those big jiggling tits?"

"I didn't ask." I was pulling back the semi-rusty bars in front of the door working on the heavy padlock there as Juan mused further.

"Man, I used to love coming down here when she was behind the counter. You know, I think she was wearing all those low-cut blouses to drum up business for this place. I remember it being a lot more crowded when she was here, damn those tetas grandes, succulent."

"Too much information." I opened the store switching on the lights.

"Come on Charlie, you never looked? I mean you can't deny those titties, man; I know you liked them as much as I did, right?"

"Not having this conversation." I continued walking up and down the aisles taking stock of everything while Juan followed me talking up a storm. He was a short willowy guy with a motor mouth and a rampant libido that got him into a lot of trouble during the last seven years I'd known him from middle school throughout high school.

"At least admit you looked."

"No."

"Damn you're making it hard Charlie; hey, is this about Maricela, huh?" I stopped in my tracks with a box of plastic bottled grape flavored drink reacting facially to his accusation, then went to the shelf stocking the empty spaces with the generic product.

"Don't start."

"I'm just saying...."

"Stop saying and help me out here or kick rocks; I've got a store to manage."

"All you're gonna do is sit at the counter and look at your phone all day; probably pining for that skeezer too. I told you not to fuck with Mari, but you wouldn't listen. She's bad news and almost got you hemmed up with them cholos, too. Did you at least get the draws, Charlie? Enquiring minds want to know."

"Why're you always on that crap; what difference does it make if I got into her panties or not?"

"Because despite that pretty, innocent little face of hers, everybody's been in the draws except you, word around the campfire. You're always so uptight, like you're holding in something so this is kind of a wellness check, bros before hoes."

"Miss me with that."

"Did you at least see her naked?"

"Shut up."

"No seriously, even though she's so tiny, the girl does have a nice rack. Those are some C-cups, right?" I was putting some jars of generic peanut butter on a shelf while Juan made himself busy tagging some cheap boxes of dollar ramen.

"We agreed not to talk about each other post relationship."

"You call that a relationship?"

"Shut up."

"But you fucked, right?"

"A gentleman never tells homeboy." He raised a brow sarcastically as I went behind the elevated counter which was on a platform which allowed me to monitor store activity using several large mirrors situated on the walls. Sometimes we got druggies and teens trying to shop lift. My grandfather put most of the things they's be looking for and the junk food in the first aisle so they would have to do it in front of his face if they tried. I also had a club and a thirty-eight at my disposal.

"Fuck that shit; you seem like a man in need so wanna come to my cousin's Quinceanera? Dude that shit is gonna be lit with a bunch of bitches. Ingrid knows hella honeys and you can take your pick."

"At a sweet sixteen party, no thanks."

"Ah, you're no fun." Juan scoffed as I audited the cash register while he ruefully continued putting price tags on some cans of vegetables.

"What's knowing about my sex life gonna do for you?" My tone was playfully light in an effort to deflect.

"It's just that we never talk about that shit and when we do, you get all stiff and everything. Some of the boys are starting to call you suspect, and the nicest thing I heard them call you is La última virgen americana, Charlie."

"Who said that?"

"Somebody you ain't gonna fuck with."

"Chauncey, huh?" The guy was part of our collective friend group on the periphery due to criminal nature and a proliferation of bench warrants that made anybody within his vicinity targets of the police.

"Well, he ain't lying, right?"

I didn't know how to answer and knew the truth would be brutal.

"Consuela did have a nice rack; gramps never made a big deal about it but everybody else did and she was nothing but trouble even besides the ten-year age gap. Just being out with her was such a problem, gramps started rolling with a forty-five in his ride. She wasn't going to change the way she dressed, and he didn't wanna let her go at first." It was an olive branch.

"Yeah?"

"Honest to God truth; everybody kept talking about how she was using him for a green card and the money, but Consuela was from Cincinatti."

Juan was laughing letting the conversation drift away as I continued.

"Everybody hated this sixty-year-old bachelor with a fifty-year-old spinster who looked like she was in her thirties, so he married her and then the shit show started."

"What happened?"

"Usual shit, cheating and some kind of cluster fuck that ended up with gramps getting stabbed in the thigh with a fork when he tried to put her out."

"A fork?"

"Yeah, I drove gramps to the hospital myself that night; I was spending the night when it happened and got caught in the middle. It was crazy because they were happy, doing it a lot even though I was there and then, blam! I got up woke up in the middle of the night because they were fighting about the cheating. I felt sort of responsible afterwards and that's how I started working here full time."

"Why'd you feel responsible?"

"Uh, I don't know if I should cop to that."

"Spill."

"I was in my room watching a movie in the middle of the night and I had this bright idea to get a snack. Consuela came into the kitchen while I was fridge surfing; she was wearing this robe that really didn't fit, if you know what I mean."

"No!"

"Uhm, it was a uh, bullet bra like from the old days; Consuela really uh, filled it out." I shot my friend a look letting him know the validity of the story that explained my committed employment at gramps corner store.

"That's crazy man; did she make a move on you?"

"...uhm."

"Come on, man!"

The little bell on the store's front door tingled as an obvious transient entered the store encrusted with dust and filth devoid of a shirt and shoes. This shaggy bearded man was gaunt, looking like he'd just escaped from a desert island. He stopped short a step or two away from us reeking of foot and ass.

"Got a dollar?" Juan facepalmed, but I was already acquainted with this down on his luck gentleman, Mel.

"Aw shit man, what're you gonna do with a dollar?" Jaun was annoyed while I got out the dollar using my pocket change.

"Well, I figured it was the least I could ask for that would be doable."

"Here you go Mel." I handed the disheveled veteran the dollar which got Juan to add another from his pocket as well. He cracked a wry smile favoring his chest length bedraggled beard.

"Can I have a beer too?"

"GET OUTTA HERE!" Juan shouted waving his arm in the air towards Mel, faux threatening. The long retired military vet just chuckled at the homely kid who looked like the love child of John Lovitz and Rob Schneider.

"Well, you don't know if you don't ask." I chuckled at Mel's unofficial catch phrase watching him walk out while some kids walked in buying some snacks from my elevated countertop. Juan obviously wanted the rest of the story hanging around as I rang up a few customers noticing some crossing the street towards the big box store that was currently destroying all the mom-and-pop businesses miles over.

"Well?" Juan asked when the last customer left.

"Well, what?"

"COME ON!" I laughed before continuing the story.

"Alright relax, it's really stupid when you think about it in hindsight; it was one of those things where you have so many choices that you can't make a decision. There was all this food just packed in there and I ended up going for a bowl of cereal. Stupid me left the fridge door open to pour the cereal in one of my aunt's mixing bowls; I got a table spoon out of the kitchen drawer no look reaching into the fridge for the gallon of milk."

"I don't get it."

"Ended up palming Consuela's tit."

"HOW?!"

"She was bent over, reaching into the fridge to get a beer for gramps. I wasn't looking when I reached inside for a gallon of milk; palmed her whole right tit."

"Aw shit!"

"Yup, that happened; I was so mortified, but she understood it was an accident and we had a laugh."

"That's it; she didn't try to make a move on you or nothing?"

"Nah, she knew it was an accident and everything was cool until gramps walked in, and then all hell broke loose. He took one look at Consuela and blew up because she was wearing her underwear and this flimsy robe which wasn't tied, hanging open."

"He kick your ass?"

"Nope; but he went nuclear on his old lady right there in front of me; you see, what I didn't know was he had my cousin Rod following Consuela for a minute and already knew she had like two guys on the hook."

"She was cheating, for reals?"

"Yeah, unfortunately; one dude was a coworker at her job, the other worked downtown at Grand Central Market, a butcher."

"Aw man, that's fucked up." Juan commented leaning against the elevated counter as I reached down hitting a switch under the counter turning on a small television mounted on the wall over a cooler.

"Yeah, awkward how it all went down; I had no idea that was going on and the next thing I know I'm driving him to the hospital with a fork sticking out of his leg."

"Messed up a moment."

"Huh?"

"That was your moment; you know, copping a feel of those big tits, moment."

"You've got a one-track mind, dude." I shook my head, turning my attention to the television with the remote bringing up this bargain streaming site I'd installed. This was an allowance by my grandfather to keep me behind the counter. He seldom used it other than watching football games.

"Oh yeah, well I ain't the one watching them old movies getting off on some lady that's probably in her nineties, now. Man, you mods are hella weird." He commented as the bell rang again with another customer entering the store obscured by all the cluttered shelves and boxes near the front. This person went into the furthest aisle near the wall.

"Not a mod."

"Right, you're into all that sixties stuff; maybe that's why you couldn't close the deal with..."

"Stop."

"Did you close the deal?"

"Here you go again; why do you keep picking at me about that crap; is it gonna change your life whether I got laid with my girlfriend, eh ex-girlfriend? Look, we're cool and everything, but I like to keep my private life, well private. And as far as those old movies; you're gonna tell me vintage James Bond ain't cool? What about those old Godzilla movies; the good ones? You liked those too back in the day... and don't ever let me hear you diss Annette Funicello ever again; she's passed away."

"Annette who?"

"Funicello, from Beach Party, Pajama Party and Beach Blanket Bingo; those are the movies she wore a bikini in back in the day, literal feminine ideal, curvy perfection." Juan scoffed as I waxed nostalgic about the series of old movies I'd discovered in my youth, ironically at my gramps house.

"Ah, you need to keep your head in the present; you can't get them broads without a time machine and even if you could, ain't none of them gonna go for no Mexican goof, even if you got a baby face!" It was my friend's perennial dig at our difference in looks with some of our friends commenting that he hung around with me because it was the only way he could get close to girls.

"Respect." I wagged a playful finger as he scoffed waving me off.

"You should be talking about Consuela's titties instead of some actor people from the old ass days; there's a lot more hot women around and you can even hit them yup naked online."

"It just hits different; they don't measure up."

"Bullshit; uhm Sofia Vergara, Ariel Wynter before the unfortunate breast reduction, uhm Scarlett Johannsen and ah, even that girl hiding some big ass titties in that Kevin spacey movie, uhm Thora Birch."

"Annette Funicello, Raquel Welch, Barbara Eden and uh...Yvonne Craig, batgirl from that campy Batman show, the one with Adam West." I countered.

"Aw, you're watching too much TV Land, Charlie; too bad your step-granny didn't make a man out of you in the kitchen before your grandfather showed up; now that would've been something he could've got righteously mad about."

"You're wrong for that; Consuela's a forty-nine-year-old woman."

"So what; if that was me, I would've at least tried to get a tit fuck out of it if she wasn't mad about you feeling her up. She had some awesome titties, man."

"Yeah, you would've tried that shit and Gramps would've perforated your ass with a twelve gauge."

"Well, it would've been worth it; you ever uh, titty fuck Mari."

"No comment." I deflected, watching an old horror movie on the monitor above the cooler. I was determined to remain coy and allusive about my ex.

"Sure you ain't coming to the Quinceanera?"

"Yup, and you better stay out of that shit too before you end up getting stomped out by somebody cousin." Juan's phone started ringing as I wagged a finger in his face from my elevated countertop.

"Ah, you're no fun; I'll catch you laters, Charlie." He walked out tersely putting the phone to his ear, making the bell ring as he left. He'd never know how tense I was doing everything to stay away from the subject of my ex.

Our conversation left me stimulated as I switched to an old movie with my childhood crush watching as she drove along a rear projected pacific coast highway singing a breezy song with Tommy Kirk.

"Susan Hart." A voice called out, catching me by surprise. My hand instinctively shot out towards the gun just under the counter.

"HUH?!! IS SOMEBODY HERE?!!" Strains of "There Has To Be A Reason" by Funicello and Kirk drifted through the store from my monitor to ghostly effect as I looked about for the source of the voice.

"Obviously." The voice was mousy in a juvenile way reminding me of a cartoon character, Betty Rubble.

"Where are you?"

"Look up."

I craned my head up finding the fluorescent light fixture above my head puzzled, which made her chortle in a manner eerily similar to that cartoon character.

"No silly; I mean look up into your shoplifting mirror." My eyes shot to the large mirror angled in a way that made the furthermost aisle visible with a fisheye lenses effect.

"Oh." She was impossibly cute with long shoulder length hair and a precision bang that made me wonder if perhaps she were a mod. Her complexion was light olive, sort of wheatish in color probably a Latina, but one more detail caught my eye eliciting a spontaneous nervous hiccup at her countenance.

A pair of humongous breasts mashed together with a ridiculous swell of rich, creamy cleavage that made me pop wood within seconds of noticing. I was so hard, there was a thumping sensation radiating throughout my crotch. The angle of the overhead mirror made them seem larger than they probably were, but I was smitten.

"Uh... ¿Estás en la tienda de ascensores?" For some reason, I went with Spanish.

"If I am, are you gonna arrest me?" She answered in English.

I hesitated longer than intended, unable to reply due to her cute, slightly cherubic features and glib carefree sounding voice. She started laughing again, making me fidget a bit as I tried to find the words.

"Cat got your tongue...or something else?" Her voice went in contrast to her figure as she knowingly gave her bust a slight jiggle making me feel embarrassed.

"Apparently." She chortled even more approving of my answer.

"See something you like?"

"I take the fifth." I felt heartened at the sound of her laughter equal parts anxious with a swarm of butterflies in my stomach.

"Fair enough, so why didn't you say Susan Hart when you guys were comparing starlets? It was on the tip of your tongue, but you deferred, why?"

"Uhm, well..."

"That's what you were gonna say, right?"

"Honestly, it was either Susan Hart or Bobby Shaw; it would've still gone over his head anyway. How did you know?"

"You're watching Pajama Party right now on that monitor and its obviously not your first time; who else would you say, if not Susan Hart? It wouldn't be Bobby Shaw because you seem to have a thing for brunettes."

"Eh, you picked up on all that from listening to us talk?"

"I'm a listener; I've honed that skill to razor sharp perfection after years of middle child grief among other things."

"Really?" I answered audibly compromised still focusing on the pretty face and inviting cleavage as reflected in the overhead mirror.

"Yeah; hey, you want me to jiggle them for you?" I gulped caught off guard making her chortle even more and follow through with a healthy prolonged bouncing of her mams. They had a watery bounce that made my business surge and throb.

"UM, SORRY!" I was embarrassed at being called out despite her light tone.

"Hey, don't worry about it, I'm flattered for the attention; it's been a while."

"I can't believe that." It was a Freudian slip that she took in the positive rewarding me with another healthy jiggle of her huge breasts, laughing all the while like a pixie.

"Better watch out; I might take you with me." She wagged a pointer finger in the reflection as those butterflies started going a hundred miles an hour in my stomach. Her playful words seemed like an open invitation as I looked down at my canvas sneakers.

"Aw shit."

"Don't I'm perfectly fine with it, eh?"

"OH!! Uhm, Charlie...Charlie Huerta, and you are?"

"Charmed, say could you help me out over here, Charlie Huerta?" I felt a sudden queasiness adjusting myself as I left the counter tucking and untucking my shirt going through the five stages of grief at the sudden prospect of meeting this dream girl in moments. I settled on leaving the shirt out as I rounded the cluttered corner into the first aisle coming face to face with this criminally cute woman.

"OH!" My eyes went saucer wide as I discovered her there standing in profile.

This woman was pregnant with a prominent baby bump, six months or more, still disarmingly cute as my heart sank. Her bust was just as massive with little to no change up close and personal.

"Oh? Surprised huh; kind of threw you a curve ball with a baby on board, huh? He or she is pleased to meet you too, while I'm focusing intently on the "OH" that just came out of your mouth. I'm Phoebe by the way, I guess I'm pleased to meet you, Charlie Huerta."

"Sorry." I blurted out without thinking, starting to feel crestfallen like the universe had played some mean-spirited practical joke on me.