Just a quick note before my lunch break ends. Kat gets so feisty when I’m not behind the register the minute my afternoon shift starts. Nothing to do but fold tea towels up there and wait for bored housewives to meander through with their Christmas shopping lists four months early. I want to scream, No one needs artichoke-shaped hand soaps! Or, Dragonflies are passé! Or, Your husband is cheating on you!
Yesterday one such wife left her sunglasses on the counter. She left before I noticed. Her lips were memorably red. A crimson matte that made her teeth bright when she smiled and sighed. I have no way of reaching her, so I keep her glasses wrapped in a swatch of fleece next to my water bottle under the counter. When she returns, if she returns, I’ll ask her about the lipstick. And maybe she’ll say it’s called Ruby or Chili. And maybe she’ll ask me to lunch. And maybe it’ll be like the movie Carol, only better because I have things to say. When she falls in love with me the audience won’t wonder why. Her affection for my charms will be easily understood by all who read or watch our story.
TO BE CONTINUED
Photo: Public Domain | Used under CC0 1.0
This post was written for Wicked Wednesday, a site where writers share erotic stories (fiction and non) every week. The fun is hosted by the glorious Marie Rebelle of Rebel’s Notes, whose endeavors you can support at Patreon.
Read all the fabulous Wicked Wednesday “Dear Diary” entries here!