Salvation Army Girl Blues

I had an interesting experience this past holiday season. I was taking my mother to the eye doctor inside WalMart when I realized the Salvation Army bell ringer was a girl I'd talked to before. As mom continued inside, I stood outside in the cold and chatted with this girl. One of the first sentences out of her mouth was "your fly isn't zipped."

It was then that I should've realized that this wouldn't be an ordinary encounter.

I winced, looked down and zipped up. Honestly, it wasn't down that far. But it was enough for her to notice. She was sheltered in a plywood shed that was open in the front. As I talked to her I leaned over. I mentioned that I had seen her picture in the local newspaper. She was donating her hair for a cancer charity. She had had leukemia as a child, and wanted to give back since she was now healthy in remission. This made me swell with affection for this woman.

We both complained about how cold it was. As the wind kicked up I huddled closer to her. She took off her gloves under a vague pretext and I rubbed them briskly as if to warm them up. All the while we are transfixed on each others' eyes.

I commented again on how cold it was, and asked her if she felt it even through her numerous layers of outerwear and throw. "No," she said, "I have a heater here below my stool." With that she lifted the blanket which covered her upper thighs and spread her legs for me. I could feel the heat rising off of it, and the moment made me utter "ooohh. . . . that's nice." And it was. Very nice actually.

I asked if she wanted to date and she said she had a boyfriend. . . well, who doesn't? I countered by saying I wasn't asking him out, just her. I could feel her desire for me radiate off of her smile in waves, just like the warmth coming off the heater beneath her spread legs. Eventually I had to leave her and see about my mom. Yes, I know that sounds lame, but remember I'm freezing my ass off and the shelter isn't big enough for the two of us. And honestly I'm worried about my mom being able to stumble out of the eye care center with her dialated pupils.

On my way back out of the store I caress her bare hands again and pass her a note with my name and phone number. I knew it was a long shot, but I still hope to hear from her sometime.

Cinnamon Girl

I ran across a lovely redhaired woman in the craft aisles at WalMart today. She looked refreshingly normal and healthy, not waif-thin and adorned with the latest Aero-GAP-American Eagle fadware. She had her strawberry-red hair up and was wearing a white blouse and dark shorts. She was very nicely built with pleasing curves in all the right places. I found her bare legs to be quite attractive. Not overly sexy mind you, but nice.

I circled around her a few times. I tried not to make it obvious I was checking her out, but I know I blew my cover. I base this on the embarrassed grin she gave me when we eventually interacted.

I could not get over the smell of cinnamon and spice in the air around the aisles we were in. Without thinking about it, I simply asked her, "where is that smell coming from?" She tried to be helpful with me and said it was on a display shelf a few rows over. I looked around with the ignorant stare that got me through college and she tried to be even more helpful. She walked around me, smiling in an embarassed way and pointed to where it was coming from. I can't remember what it was I said next, but rather than continue the conversation I simply walked away. I regret that, but the fact is I had reached a brick wall. I hadn't intended to say anything to this beautiful woman, and I felt sure I had better quit while I was ahead.

I left the craft aisles to check on my mother who was in another part of the store. I came back a half hour later and she was gone. As I left the store, the smell of the pouporri and talking to her reminded me of Neil Young's "Cinnamon Girl". Since that time I've been unable to get that song- or her- out of my head. Bless you Cinnamon Girl.

Katy: A beautiful woman

There's a business woman who I've ran into on several occasions who always makes me smile. She's a mature woman who owns a shop downtown. I first met her at my workplace, where she invariably looked at me with a slight curl of her lips and a wide-eyed stare of recognition. Katy is a gorgeous older lady with a fantastic body who has fueled my fantasies for years now.

Right now as I conjure up her image in my mind I find it difficult not to stray into a graphically romantic encounter. I suppose I should go ahead, since this blog is my own and the only censor is me. But no, I consider Katy to be too special to me written about in such a way. But rest assured I'm damn well going to picture her in every position possible in the sanctity of my own mind.

A cute girl headed to California flirted with me today. This girl had a marvelous head of hair. Light brown bordering on blonde, it cascaded around her open neckline in tight springy curls.

Her smile hid a trace of naughtiness, a hint of delight at finding me willing to play with her a bit. She wore a dark blouse adorned with beads and trinkets. She had on a black pair of capris. As I spoke with her I noticed a patch of blush on her collar bone, perhaps a hickey from her mohawk wearing boyfriend. Nice contrast, don't you think?

Initially she saw me from across the store. Our eyes met and locked on each others'. I did not look away- I am well past the point of averting my gaze when a beautful woman looks at me. There is no time for shyness in this life.

A young girl came in this Sunday evening who brightened my day just by standing in front of my register. I remember her having a beautiful smile, a smile which may have been just for me. She had shoulder length brown wavy hair, was wearing a wine colored blouse with jean shorts.
Her face was cute and very expressive. I actually remember very little about her body itself. In my mind I see her mannerisms more clearly than anything.

As we chatted about the weather as I rung her up, I noticed she was very "there", responsive not just in what she said but in the way her mouth curved as she spoke and as her eyes stayed fixed on mine. We were busy this evening, but I wasn't so busy that I couldn't leave the register for just a minute to circle around where she was with her horse trailer. She was leading around a horse into the grass of the outer lot, giving it a bit of grass and a chance to stretch. She was wearing sunglasses outside so I couldn't see her eyes, but I think we made eye contact as I walked around the gas islands in front of her.