Michelle's Arms

This story involves people with a particular fondness for body hair, so if that does not interest you, you might wish to skip this story by.

....

Chapter One: Running late.

Damn! I swiped my credit card through the machine again. Nothing. One more time produced the same result.

"Sorry," a female voice said over the intercom, startling me so much I dropped my card. "That thing doesn't work sometimes when it's damp out."

I looked toward the building that housed the convenience store of this Hess gas station, cursing myself for stopping at this particular place, which wasn't even my usual stop. I was running late as it was, and was only looking for a splash and dash so I could make it to work on time. Now I had to go into the store and waste even more time.

So I marched into the store to pay for my gas, trying to figure out how I was going to make up this lost time, and cursing Leon Hess for having defective credit card readers. Behind the register was a timid looking young woman who looked like she was expecting an argument from an irate looking customer, namely me.

"Sorry," the young lady said, looking at me but not making eye contact. "I wish they would fix that one. The rest of them work okay."

As she spoke, she waved her arm toward the outside and the six other pumps. For some reason, my eyes followed her hand as it moved, and as it did, the girl's sleeve slid up her arm. Not far - only halfway to her elbow, but as it did, I was treated to an incredible sight. Incredible to me, at least.

The young woman's arm was quite hairy. Not just the faint down you find on many women, but a rich coating of long black hair. The sight was so amazing and arousing to me that I couldn't take my eyes off of it. Only when she noticed my staring and pulled her sleeve back down was I able to come out of my trance.

"Oh," I said, handing the girl my credit card, which she took very cautiously from me, probably taking me for a pervert.

The hair stopped right at her wrist, I noted as she swiped my card at her register. Faint olive skin, curly black hair tied up in back, and what seemed to be a nice enough figure under the store's smock. All well and good, but what I would give for another glimpse at her arms.

Michelle. That was her name, or so claimed the tag on her chest. Michelle was doing her best to not look at me, and an even better job at holding her sleeve down as far as she could.

I signed the slip she placed on the counter, allowing me another brief peek at her furry wrist, before whisking it away. Smiling with what I hoped was a friendly expression on my face, I took my receipt and started to turn and exit the store, but for some reason I stopped.

"Have a nice day, Michelle," I said. "And by the way, your arms are magnificent. You shouldn't hide them like that."

Michelle looked at me like I was totally weird, which may have been accurate. She seemed like she was going to say something, but stopped and just stood there, the ends of her sleeves secured by her fingers holding the fabric tight against the insides of her wrists.

I left the store, having made a complete ass of myself. I half-expected the police to swoop in and have me arrested or something. What I had just done was so out of character for me, because I was never one for much small talk, and certainly had never just blurted out something of that nature. It was like the thought went through my mind and came right out of my mouth.

Get a grip. That was what I was thinking as I drove away from the gas station. My humiliation grew with every passing moment, and by the time I finally got to work - ten minutes late - I had made up my mind that I would never stop in that gas station in Ballston Spa again. Hell, I might just avoid the whole town completely from now on.

***

Chapter Two: Back for more.

Having said all that to myself on that Monday morning, it's hard to explain why I found myself pulling into that very same station on Tuesday morning. This time I managed to get started earlier, so that I would have time to do what I felt I had to do.

Michelle was waiting on another customer when I came in, so I didn't think she saw me as I went to the coffee pots beyond the register. Good thing for me, I figured, because she might have hit the store alarm or something.

As I poured a cup of coffee, which was my excuse for coming into the place, my hands were shaking and I was beginning to think this wasn't such a good idea after all. The previous day, this seemed a whole lot easier as I rehearsed it in my mind. Now actually being here with the moment at hand, it was suddenly much different.

I walked up to the register like I was going to death row, ashamed of myself for being afraid to speak to a girl who was probably in her mid-twenties, likely half my age. The previous customer had left, and now I went up and set my cup of coffee down.

Michelle's eyes flashed with recognition as I stepped up to the counter. You know the feeling you get when you recognize someone but suddenly realize you aren't sure why? That was the look I got initially, which was followed by the startled look similar to the one she had left me with the day before.

"I just wanted to apologize if I embarrassed you or made you uncomfortable by what I said yesterday. I meant no harm, and just blurted out what I was thinking for some reason. I meant what I said, but it wasn't right of me to be so forward."

That was what I was going to say. Well, what I actually said to Michelle that day, I have no recollection. It was something resembling my planned speech, but I was stammering and stuttering and babbling on so much, that it would be difficult to actually remember what came out and would likely be impossible to read.

What I do remember was that it took me forever to get it out, during which time I was sweating profusely and twitching like I had fleas, and by the end Michelle was even showing a hint of a smile at the corners of her mouth.

"Did you understand anything that I just said?" I ended with, shaking my head and chuckling at myself. "Was there even a single coherent group of words in that babbling?"

"Yeah," Michelle said, handing me my change while I tried like hell not to look at her hand to see if her sleeve had slid up. "It's okay."

"Good!" I said happily. "Have a great day, Michelle."

"You too Jeff," Michelle answered, and after I left, I wondered how she knew my name?

The credit card from yesterday. Of course! She probably wrote that name down on some store list of shady characters, and I couldn't blame her for that. Then again, maybe she liked me. Sure.

***

Chapter Three: Becoming a regular.

No, the first theory was probably the right one. That didn't stop me from making that Hess station part of my new morning routine, however. Each morning on the way to work, I would stop for a cup of coffee or a paper, whether I needed gas or not. I learned the days Michelle had off, and bypassed the place on those days.

Every other day, I showed up. Neither rain, nor sleet nor snow would stop me from my morning stop to see Michelle. The place was usually busy in the mornings, so we would just exchange pleasantries, but she gradually grew more at ease around me as I became a regular. She was friendly but shy, and had an adorable way of looking at my neck while she talked, almost as if she shied from eye contact.

I was still savoring the occasional glimpses of Michelle's forearms, but even as the weather got warmer, she would always wear long sleeves. Somehow, this made her all the most erotic to me. I would arrive each morning hoping to see her in a short sleeved blouse, and invariably would find her wearing another long sleeved top, which would only add to my curiosity.

One morning, the store was empty when I arrived, and I got the chance to have more than few words in passing. I mentioned that the weather report said that temperatures would be on the rise for the rest of the week.

"Time to get out the summer clothes, I guess," I said casually. "Get the boys all excited and all."

"Don't think so Jeff," Michelle said. "They really blast the AC in here."

"Oh - too bad," I said. "I guess my dream of showing up one morning and seeing you wearing a sleeveless blouse will never happen."

"Not here it won't," Michelle chuckled, and if she hadn't remembered my comment from a few months ago, she was reminded of it now. "Management wouldn't approve of having their customers scared off."

"They might be surprised if business picked up though."

"Okay then, maybe I'll wear a short sleeved blouse tomorrow," Michelle said with a smile.

"Great!" I said quickly, before I remembered something.

"Wait a minute. You're off tomorrow," I said recalling that she didn't work on Fridays.

"That's right," Michelle said with a wink. "Hey, do you have my work schedule memorized?"

"You don't think I come in here for the coffee, do you?"

"Well, I think I make good coffee."

"You do, but I can get coffee anywhere. It's the abuse I come here for," I replied.

"Where will you be getting coffee tomorrow then, Jeff."

"I dunno - Coffee Planet maybe," I answered, referring to the little shop a mile or so down the road. "They have a beautiful cashier too," I added, and while that much was true, her arms were no match for what I pictured Michelle's to be.

"Around this time?" Michelle said, nodding toward a customer that had just entered the store.

"Yeah," I said with a curious look. "Why do you ask?"

"Well, maybe I'll see you there then."

"Really?" I asked.

"Never can tell."

***

Chapter Four: Coffee with Michelle.

I really hadn't any intention of stopping at Coffee Planet that next morning, but when Michelle suggested that she might be there, that was enough for me. Arriving in downtown Ballston Spa on Friday morning, I had no trouble finding a place to park.

It was giving every impression of becoming a warm and sticky day, but at least it was a very comfortable morning, which eliminated that excuse as a reason for me sweating already.

The coffee house looked empty when I first entered, so I poured myself a cup and prepared to sit around and nurse it until Michelle did or didn't show up.

I had enjoyed the buildup that led to my being here, hoping for the chance to spend some real time with Michelle, but I didn't really expect here to show up. After all, she was laughing when she insinuated that she would be here, and I found it far more likely that she was only kidding.

I grabbed one of the free weekly papers at the cream and sugar station and headed toward the back of the long room. When I got around the column that broke the room in half, I was stunned to see Michelle sitting at a table by the window, smiling and giving me a little wave.

"Hi!" I said, or more accurately, exclaimed as I joined her at the table. She was looking even more adorable than usual, and was wearing a light blue windbreaker and shorts.

"Wasn't sure if you were going to show up," Michelle said, already well into her coffee.

"I was thinking the same thing," I told her. "I figured you were just kidding around."

"Me too. You're always joking about everything, so I wasn't sure whether you actually would come."

"I wanted to wait until you already bought your coffee so I could save the buck and a half."

"Then maybe I'll have another one, smart guy!"

"What is it?" I asked, leaping up before she could change her mind.

"Chocolate raspberry - splash of cream, no sugar."

I went back up to the counter and got Michelle her coffee, and when I went back to the table, she was in the process of removing the windbreaker. By the time I reached the table, the coffee waves were rocking and splashing hot liquid on my fingers. I hardly noticed as she put her elbows on the table.

"You're a woman of your word," I said as I slid the cup in front of her and slid into my seat.

"Thanks. You mean by showing up?"

"No, I was referring to your blouse," I replied.

The powder blue blouse had very short sleeves that merely cupped her shoulders, and what was exposed made my heart race with excitement. Michelle's arms were amazing works of art. Her very shapely biceps had a slight hint of muscularity to them, and the down that coated the outsides of them shimmered in the sunlight that filtered in through the windows.

Below her elbows, the fine black hair was just as long and dense as I had imagined, and as I mentioned her blouse and nodded toward those stunning arms of hers, Michelle self-consciously ran her hands up and down the opposite forearms. Watching the soft hairs billow in the wake of her passing fingers, I longed to do the very same thing to her myself.

"Quite a sight, isn't it?"

"To me it is," I said. "Covering up those arms all the time is borderline criminal. I told you something like that the first day I saw you. Remember? The time you probably wanted to mace me or something?"

"I remember it well, Jeff. I had thought you were being sarcastic or something. I've been teased all my life about my hairy arms."

"That's dumb," I answered. "Hair's a natural part of everyone body."

"How many women do you see with arms like mine?"

"Not nearly enough for my tastes," I assured her. "I've seen women with more, if it gives you any comfort."

"Back in school, did you ever have to stand up and tell the class what you wanted to be when you grew up? Well, when I stood up I told them I wanted to be a doctor, and Billy Chapman yelled out, "Who, Doctor Zeus?"

The name sounded familiar but my memory failed me for a moment.

"You know, from Planet of the Apes."

"Not all that funny or accurate," I said as I nodded and shrugged my shoulders.

"When the teacher laughed, I wanted to die. Funny thing is that I always thought the hair was kinda neat," Michelle concluded, rubbing her hands along her furry forearms again and making me very uncomfortable, because my briefs were becoming quite crowded.

"I think it is too."

"My ex-fiancee - the guy I helped put through law school before he dumped me - he wasn't too big on it. Probably why he gave me the old heave-ho. He had me waxing my arms and shaving them all the time. Said he loved me in spite of my hair."

"You're better off without him," I counseled.

"Easier said than done. I wasted four years of my life with him. Paying the bills and everything. He passed the bar and decided that he needed a different girl - probably a non-hairy one - to showcase on the country club circuit. That's how I ended up here. Moved from downstate and hit this little town, and just decided to pitch my tent here."

"I'm glad you did."

"Won't be forever," Michelle said. "My career goal isn't to work 6 to 4:30 four days a week at a gas station. I've got an accounting degree, but this area seems to not need many of those right now."

"You're a smart and attractive woman, and I have a hunch that you'll find something real soon," I assured her. "And as far as your personal life goes, that lawyer has no idea what he missed out on. You wait and see. You'll find some lucky young guy around here in no time flat."

"Young. Old. Who cares? Ages are just numbers. I'm 26. How old are you? 45?" Michelle asked me.

"Thank you. I'm 51."

"That's a good number," Michelle said.

"If I wasn't twice your age, I'd be panting at your doorstep," I assured her.

"You aren't twice my age," Michelle corrected me. "You were twice my age last year. Do the math. Plus, I'll be catching up with you with each day. Also, I'm partial to panting."

"You're right," I said as I did the math as instructed. "You're good with numbers alright. So it's official. Let's get married so I can pant in private."

"Why not?" Michelle said with a laugh. "Too bad you have to go to work, or I'd show you a good time."

"I'm having a good time right now," I assured her, and as my eyes traveled across the table, I was rewarded with an even better time.

Michelle's elbows were on the table, and as I looked at her arms again, I happened to catch a glimpse of something I found spectacularly erotic looking. Peeking out from under the short sleeve, I got a fleeting glimpse of hair peeking out on the inside of her bicep, and while it was only a brief view, it made me all the more fascinated by her.

"I guess you are," Michelle said. "Too bad you have to go to work."

"I took the day off," I informed her.

"In that case, since you like to look so much, I'll let you watch me do my laundry at the laundromat across the street."

"I can fold with the best of them, I'll have you know."

"Just keep your paws off my unmentionables," Michelle warned me with a wag of her finger.

"I'll avert my eyes when the panties appear," I assured her.

***

Chapter Five: She wasn't kidding.

We did have a good time at the laundromat, believe it or not. Lively conversation and a room so warm that Michelle had to keep her jacket off was all I needed to keep my interest level high.

And when she folded, I was afforded brief glimpses of her underarms when she raised her arms to fold sheets and things. The tiny sleeves of her blouse were loose enough to allow me to peek under at the rich auburn fur that seemed to fill the gentle hollows of her armpits.

The sight was so erotic that I made no effort to hide my efforts to look under her arms at every opportunity. To my delight, Michelle not only made no attempt to shield herself from my prying eyes, and a couple of times had seemed to welcome my staring by holding her arms up longer.

By the time she had finished doing her laundry, I was wringing wet and horny beyond belief. We carried the baskets of clothes to her car and looked at each other.

"Well Michelle, that was a lot of fun. Anytime you need help folding, I'm your guy."

"You were awesome with the sheets," Michelle said, shyly looking at my neck.

"I was wondering if sometime you might like to go out - I mean really out."

"Like a date?"

"Well, yeah. I guess. I mean, I know that I'm really..."

"Yes. I'd love to. Stop trying to talk me out of it, although I love how flustered you get when you get nervous."

"Hey, beautiful women make me nervous," I protested. "Besides, you're rather shy yourself."

"How do you figure that?" Michelle asked, leaning on her opened car door.

"Well, a lot of time you don't make eye contact with me. Not all the time but sometimes."

"Is it that obvious?" Michelle said.

"I warned you that I'm very observant," I reminded her.

"Well, if you're that much of a Sherlock Holmes, you can easily figure out why I don't always look into your eyes."

"Let's see," I said, putting my hand on my chin and striking a studious pose. "Is it because I've mentioned something that embarrasses you?"

"Nope. Words don't usually faze me. Try again."

"Okay, wait. I'm thinking."

"Is that what you're doing?" Michelle asked. "Looks like you're constipated."

"Must be thinking too hard," I said laughing. "I do like it when you talk dirty like that, though."

"Poop. I can tell that you're stalling for time."

"Give me a hint, and I'll tell you the real reason that I'm stalling," I offered.

"Okay, your hint is that we have something very much in common," Michelle said.

"We do?"

"That's obvious. Now what could that reason be? Why would I look into your eyes yesterday and not so much today? Why will I not be making much eye contact tomorrow if you come in for coffee?"

"Because it's Saturday? Weekends? Weekdays? Even numbered days? Full moon? Come on Michelle," I laughed. "I'm dying here."

"Are you stalling still?"

"No, and the reason I was stalling is because I've laughed more in the last few hours than I have all year combined. I think you're a fascinating conversationalist and I love being around you, and so I'm trying to delay this goodbye."