At twenty-five, I hadn't made love in many weird places that night I went into the local Goodwill looking for some fall clothes. It was forty-five minutes to closing on a Sunday night. The store had emptied except for a few shoppers milling about.
My heart kicked up a beat when I rounded the corner toward the dress shirts and saw her standing there flipping through some jeans.
She couldn't have been more than twenty-two years old, short and petite. Her blonde, shoulder-length hair first caught my attention. My eyes scanned down her tanned neck and across her back, ensconced in a black t-shirt listing Metallica tour dates.
Two round, perky little butt cheeks stared at me through a pair of acid-washed, skin-tight jeans pulled up high on her waist and secured by a black leather belt. Her athletic little thighs tapered down to a pair of black ankle boots.
Her peripheral vision caught me walking by and looking at her. She turned toward me with a pair of piercing blue eyes. I noticed a bit of a smirk on her thick, juicy lips β busted.
But I too smirked as her eyes left mine and scanned downward across my large, muscular frame. My dark blue jean jacket stayed open just enough for her to see two large pecs and some abdominal humps, wrapped in a skin-tight black t-shirt.
A tight pair of dark gray chinos made sure women could see my respectable bulge and legs of iron, sculpted by frequent, hilly runs.
We kept stealing glances at each other over the racks. I met plenty of hot young women at Goodwill, but here was my rock goddess. I took a deep breath and walked over.