Josephine's Lace (This is off topic - I hope that is OK)

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dplover
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Josephine's Lace (This is off topic - I hope that is OK)

Unread post by dplover » Fri Oct 09, 2015 10:28 am

Josephine's Lace

Friday's were the worst, the waiting.

Fridays were the best, the few fleeting moments were worth the wait.

Fridays, that's when he came in, late, like after work. All day she watched the door for him and then with a wish and a prayer willed him towards her register, it usually worked.

It had gotten to the point she didn't even bother pulling up her pajama bottoms until her fingers were finished. By the time her breathing returned to normal he faded back into that special place she kept her fantasies.

* * *

“Hi...” he smiled back, she felt a little glow inside, it really was worth the wait. His tie was loose, the suit was dark with stripes, he was beautiful.

“Mmmmm....shrimp...”, she spent had her time in a plaid shirt, she was supposed to eat fish on Fridays too.

Just half a pound, as usual, only enough for one.

Food for one and a six pack of English beer. It's hot in N' leans she liked beer too, she wondered what English beer tasted like. With a little grin, she wondered what it would taste like to fresh off his lips. Nervously she pushed her long brown locks behind her ear, her hands trembled.

“Shrimp...mmm...that sounds so good....gosh I'm so hungry...but I don't get off until 8....”, he looked at his watch and smiled again, her heart fluttered.

He had a twenty, there wasn't much change, their hands touched as she fumbled with the coins. His hand was warm, later she would imagine it was his fingers touching her, longingly her eyes followed him as he disappeared into the humid haze of the crowded parking lot.

Friday nights were so lonely, she dreamed of his warm hands, and more. If she closed her eyes she could cum, oh god she moaned to the lonely room...what if...

Wednesday morning meant it was almost Friday, the shower wall was cold on her back. The pulsing shower head would make her cum... eventually. It was way more intense for her when she closed her eyes and let him join her in that imaginary place where boys and girls do way more than kiss.

He had become her only fantasy, he nuzzled her neck, his lips lingered on her nipples, his warm palms covered her breasts, he kissed her tummy, he nuzzled her thighs. She toyed with the curls in his hair as his tongue did the work that the shower head usually did. His eyes were bright and mischievous as he gazed up at her over her heaving breasts. Oh how she would have preferred the rough silkiness of his tongue to the harsh pulsing water, her knees were still weak as she dried off.



She knew it was silly, but she watched the door all day on Fridays.

Sale items, screaming kids, 100 dollar bills, cigarettes from customer service counter, Larry from produce...there was no end.

A bitch with a ton of fucking coupons was holding up her line, he returned her smile, but off he went to the self checkout line anyway, damn, another week lost. She felt like pouting, “Tanks for nutton” as her father would have said.

Closing time was near, “why don't you just ask... ask for his number...”, She jerked her head towards Mary. Mary always ran the next register over on Friday's, she was old...like forty.

God, was it that obvious, could everyone tell she had a crush on him, she blushed from head to toe, she felt let like a school girl again, did everyone know, really.

“What...who...ask who for their number.” she didn't even sound convincing to herself.

“He's cute...and he always looks at you...”, she wasn't so sure he really looked at her, not like that anyway.

“Can't”, it would just ruin it if he said no, she thought to herself....there no way she was going to let that happen.

“He was checking out your butt tonight girl...”, great she thought, this ugly fucking uniform is green and baggy...and he was checking out my ass...just perfect.

“What's his name...”, they both knew he had a preferred customer card and that his name appeared on her screen every Friday.

“Jamie...Jamie Chouteau....”, it sounded wonderfully french to her....Mrs. Trisa Chouteau, she liked the sound of that.

She changed her mind ten times that week, yes she would ask him for his number, no...she couldn't, no...she just couldn't.

Left over noodles and an old movie, that was still better than going out with Larry. Sure he would have a joint or two, but, then they would be hungry, he would pay. She would feel guilty, they weren't coming back here, giving head in a parents driveway was kind of scary.

Last weeks fantasy was stale, this week they were on a picnic...a big green field...a southern oak tree, a tangle of bodies on a plaid table cloth The sun was warm on their skin, with ever deepening thrusts he opened her where she was moist, thick and incessantly he worked between her sprawled legs. She would wrap her heels around him, as if to keep him there forever, he cupped her face, he kissed her lips. He would thrust harder and harder, then faster and faster until he was still. He would hold her, sweaty and breathless, he would hold her, his little twitches deep inside her would make her lingering spasms even better.


He would say, I love you, again.

Late at night, day after day, she would climax to her vision of the perfect day, but her skinny fingers could never be him, her mind was made up.

She really, really, couldn't afford to shop at Josephine's Lace, natives knew everything down in the French Quarter was over priced, but she was going to anyway. She stroked the fine silky materials, and wished, the black boy short panties were really nice...the bra's hanging on pink padded hangers were sheer with lacy trim. .

“May I help you....something special...I have a sale table over here...”. Josephine had been watching her nervously finger the price tags.

Josephine helped make sure that young and broke didn't have to mean you couldn't look pretty. 34-24-36 was her guess, she was going to make sure that some lucky boy unwrapped a very pretty package.

The boy short panties were nice...but the white thong was on the sale table.

* * *

“Pussy”. Saturday morning soccer kept in him touch with his college buddies, networking his boss called it. Besides it was a good way to work up a sweat, something that never happened sitting behind a desk.

“Fuck you...”. Was all that came to mind.

“You go in there every week and just fucking look at her...Damn...do you even know her name ”? Locker rooms are the same everywhere, dirty towels, banged up lockers, the smell of sweat and guys talking about pussy.

“Trisa...”, his computer at work thought it was probably short for Patricia, the 10 or 15 times he had typed in her name.

“Sounds like a stripper name...”, Bruce pushed his pec's up like they were breasts and wiggled his ass to the rhythm of imaginary music, the whole place laughed, Jamie couldn't help himself, he had to laugh..

“Fuck you...she's not a stripper...”, last Friday afternoon flashed through his mind.

The sight of her ass bent over the counter as she counted coupons was permanent . She didn't have stripper tits, but her faint panty line had framed an ass any stripper would have been proud of. Just a few hours with that was all he could think at the time. Early this morning with his fist tightly wrapped around his manhood that the image had reappeared and right now it was happening again. Thankfully the locker room showers were kind of cold.

* * *



“Yes sir...I know...I know...but my washing machine is broken and I just couldn't wash them...”. Truth was Josephine's got her wash money. Her manager acted like he was pissed, but he couldn't send her home on a busy Friday and they both knew it, so well worn skinny jeans and her prettiest white blouse would be her work uniform this Friday.

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