More Stories to Make You Blush Read Free Page A

from just one day of not seeing her. All I could do was wait for the next day, Monday, a day so quiet it was almost dead. She was sure to come break the monotony, brighten the day with her presence; I just felt it! I had no concrete reason for thinking such a thing, but I was convinced.
    That Sunday morning I left my house, got in my car, and drove to the Fashion Gallery. No, I wasn’t working that day, but the store was open. Who knows, maybe she’d be there. I’d thought of sitting quietly by the door, maybe having a bite to eat and watching people come and go. And if she appeared, what would I do? I’d be happy just to look at her; I’d be satisfied for the rest of the day. I would finally know all those details I was dying to know: the exact shade of her blonde hair, the color of her eyes, the perfume she wore. I could follow her without being seen, pretending to do some shopping for my wife. And what would I say to the employees I ran into who knew I had no reason whatsoever to be there on Sunday? I’d think of something.
    By late Sunday afternoon I was still there waiting. I ate a sandwich and waited. I drank a cup of coffee, then another, and waited. At four o’clock, bitterly disappointed, I decided to go home, pathetic and ashamed. Just by chance Margaret had to go out that evening, leaving me alone with my obsession. And that’s what it was. For the first time in ages I took the rum bottle from the cupboard and poured myself a good shot to try and forget her, or at least make the next day come faster. I drank more than I should have and Margaret had to wake me up as I lay passed out on the sofa. Luckily, I’d had the sense to zip up my fly before falling asleep in an alcohol haze. The last thing I remembered was fumbling to wash my hands after coming all over myself, my pants rolled down over my hips, imagining
her
kneeling in front of me, welcoming my cock into her beautiful, wide-open mouth.
    * * *
    On Monday, October 17, I got up with the dawn. I was ready for work ridiculously early, which made Margaret suspicious.
    â€œWhat’re you up to this morning?”
    â€œOh, you know! It’s busy at the store. There’s a meeting to talk about the shifts over Christmas. I’d better get going.”
    Another lie. This was definitely becoming a bad habit. But I was so excited I couldn’t stand it; I just wanted to get to work as fast as I could, sit down at my station and wait for “my” customer. There were still hours before she arrived, many long hours to wait. Monday morning was usually pretty deserted and boring; everyone knows that nothing happens on Mondays. But I didn’t care a bit. There I sat, waiting for her visit, ready to welcome her and savor what little of her beauty she was willing to share with me.
    I was pleasantly surprised to see her arrive around ten. Maybe she wasn’t working that day? What exactly did she do for a living, I wondered. She could easily have been a model, but I had other ambitions for her. I imagined her as the head of a big cosmetics firm, or maybe a fashion magazine. But none of that mattered. There she was in front of me; that’s what counted. What’s more, she didn’t seem in as much of a hurry as usual. She strolled up and down the aisles, examining a jacket, then a pair of pants. She tried on a magnificent fur coat and admired herself in the mirror for a long time, wrapped in soft fox pelts. She looked like someone who wanted to buy herself a treat, but was hesitating. Could she afford it? She continued on her way, this time stopping at the fine jewelry counter. The Fashion Gallery prided itself on its vast assortment of precious gems and gold. She tried on pearl necklaces, diamond rings, and bracelets studded with tiny emeralds. She lingered a long time in front of some earrings that I couldn’t see in detail, but which were glittery and obviously expensive. Then she moved on again; she