“Damn, they’re out of chocolate pudding mix!” I shrugged my shoulders and began to walk out of the store but a cute hunk of a checker caught my eye at checkout #4. I sauntered over, deftly snapping up a pack of Juicy Fruits out of the rack only the way. I gingerly placed the pack down on his conveyor belt and it inexorably rolled up to his waist. He looked up as I did this and our eyes held each other just a little too long, self-consciously. He smiled at me and I felt a little embarrassed. I looked down and smiled, brushing the bangs out of my eyes as I looked up again. He turned his attention to the pack of Juicy Fruits. As he picked it up and swiped it across the bar code reader, I could see his rather muscular hand ever so gently squeezing the pack. I pretended the total display was the center of my attention by looking up at it, but I could care less how much the cost was.
I could feel him pretending not to watch me, my cheeks flushing red with that knowledge. As the numbers flashed on the display, I reached into the back pocket of my tight-fitting jeans and pulled out a coin purse. I noticed he was standing there absentmindedly gripping the pack with his thumb and forefinger of his right hand, moving it up and down the pack, smoothing out the slight crease he had put in it. I’d become somewhat mesmerized by this motion he was making. I shook my head a little to snap myself out of it.
As I handed over the coins and withdrew my hand, my fingernails brushed against the palm of his hand. This was partly accidental, partly my intention. His hand trembled a little with this exquisite sensation. He handed back my change and the receipt and made sure his fingertips brushed the inside of my upturned palm too. My face broke into a wide smile as he did this, and I bit my lower lip to try to hide my smile at this gesture. I turned to leave and just as abruptly turned back around holding the pack and said, “Do you want a stick?” At first he wasn’t sure if he had heard me correctly. Then he smiled and said, “Yeah, sure”. There was no one else in line. At first, I had problems starting the pull-tear that would uncap the pack. He noticed my difficulty and said, “Here, let me help.” He reached over and held my hand holding the pack and used his other hand to start the tear-cord. I noticed his hand over mine was so much bigger than my own but it was warm and soft.
I had leaned over toward him during this operation, intently watching him pick at the tear-cord and the ends of her soft hair were dancing on his forearm, sending warm sensuous waves through his neck and shoulders. He could smell a wonderful fragrance around me of clean soap and lilacs. He wondered what it would be like to nuzzle the back of my ear. He withdrew a stick and handed it to her. Then he took one for himself. At that moment, he realized that he was still holding my hand and he let his fingertips accidentally glide down the back of my hand as his hand fell away. He popped the stick in his mouth and began chewing. I did the same. I stuffed the pack into the pocket of my jeans as he noticed how tight they were. I smiled and said thanks, and out of shyness again, started to walk away. He smiled and watched me as I left and said, “Come by again anytime you need help opening something up.”
I could feel him pretending not to watch me, my cheeks flushing red with that knowledge. As the numbers flashed on the display, I reached into the back pocket of my tight-fitting jeans and pulled out a coin purse. I noticed he was standing there absentmindedly gripping the pack with his thumb and forefinger of his right hand, moving it up and down the pack, smoothing out the slight crease he had put in it. I’d become somewhat mesmerized by this motion he was making. I shook my head a little to snap myself out of it.
As I handed over the coins and withdrew my hand, my fingernails brushed against the palm of his hand. This was partly accidental, partly my intention. His hand trembled a little with this exquisite sensation. He handed back my change and the receipt and made sure his fingertips brushed the inside of my upturned palm too. My face broke into a wide smile as he did this, and I bit my lower lip to try to hide my smile at this gesture. I turned to leave and just as abruptly turned back around holding the pack and said, “Do you want a stick?” At first he wasn’t sure if he had heard me correctly. Then he smiled and said, “Yeah, sure”. There was no one else in line. At first, I had problems starting the pull-tear that would uncap the pack. He noticed my difficulty and said, “Here, let me help.” He reached over and held my hand holding the pack and used his other hand to start the tear-cord. I noticed his hand over mine was so much bigger than my own but it was warm and soft.
I had leaned over toward him during this operation, intently watching him pick at the tear-cord and the ends of her soft hair were dancing on his forearm, sending warm sensuous waves through his neck and shoulders. He could smell a wonderful fragrance around me of clean soap and lilacs. He wondered what it would be like to nuzzle the back of my ear. He withdrew a stick and handed it to her. Then he took one for himself. At that moment, he realized that he was still holding my hand and he let his fingertips accidentally glide down the back of my hand as his hand fell away. He popped the stick in his mouth and began chewing. I did the same. I stuffed the pack into the pocket of my jeans as he noticed how tight they were. I smiled and said thanks, and out of shyness again, started to walk away. He smiled and watched me as I left and said, “Come by again anytime you need help opening something up.”