Holly
I was working at a small chain of grocery stores, as a mid-tier supervisor and manager -- I was number 4 or 5 in charge out of 8 manager types or so, the lowest of those of us who had store control, not just department control. This meant that I dealt with every employee in the store, from the bakers and butchers, to the deli and shelf-stocker teams, every cashier and high school bagger. I have to admit, the old man who did the hiring chose well when it came to female flesh. If you were well presented and well-proportioned, you'd get a job. If you were a hundred lbs overweight or wore dirty sweats or tights, you didn't work there.
This job brought me into contact, daily, with some fine women and girls, and as a figure of power, was always treated with more than my share of flattery and flirttery (I made that word up, I like it!) This was always nice to get the attention of the young ladies, their supple skin, their smiles, their innocence in how they affected men, or maybe just a bit of beginning to understand how their sheer presence of femininity could be used. It was friendly, it was sexy, but it was girls, and while the thoughts were there, there was never (rarely) the thought of taking it further than friendship or fantasy.
And then SHE walked in. SHE was Holly. Holly wasn't a 18-19 year old girl. Holly was a woman, late 20s, smile from ear to ear, freckle faced and the dark hair-shock blue eye combination that only one of pure Irish blood seem to be able to generate. And she had that body that I cannot resist. Short and curvy. She filled her sweater magnificently and also made those tight jeans curve for days. These days, she'd be skinny but busty, but back then, she would be considered "chunky" because not the Elle MacPherson long and lanky type. She was here for a job interview -- we were looking for cashiers who could work Friday and Saturday nights until 10:30PM. High school girls usually had activities on Friday nights, and parents didn't like them working past 10PM on Saturdays.
Her eyes smoldered as I introduced myself, and I felt an instant hormonal attraction even beyond what her body was doing to me already just from watching her come towards me. She smiled, with a slight crookedness to it, as if she knew something already.
"I'm Holly!" she gushed, with a voice a bit husky, but possibly just throaty or choked up.
"Sit down" I told her, and we chatted for a few minutes. Part-time work needed, weekends only, she has other job during week/days, extra money, sounded perfect, you're hired. She smiles, we shake hands, the touch was a little too warm, we were a little too close, enough so that I could look down into her eyes, and she had to look up at me in that way women do that makes me swoon -- somehow, it always makes them look like they adore me, which of course, they do!
I close Saturday nights. Gives me Sundays off for football, and for the most part, can still meet friends out on Saturday night from 11PM until 1-1:30AM. They are usually way ahead of me, but that's fine. I don't mind playing catchup or simply enjoying their enjoyment. Holly always worked the last few hours of Saturday night, so we ended up chatting every week. She's divorced, earning extra money to get out of apartment, etc. After that first encounter, we fell into that easy chitchat, smiles, a little too close talking like I did with the other girls, but with her, it was always more of a rush. Everything about her exuded sex and sexuality, and that hint of a promise if given the chance. One Saturday night, Mike the wine steward came in, "hey, we're heading to [local bar] across the street. Come over after work!"
"Sure, why not?" I thought. I had no plans. I see him go over and talk to Holly. She smiled abruptly and looked over at me. They had a slight laugh, and then he left. An hour later, at her break, she asked if I was going to meet Mike after work.
"yeah, what's up?"
"Oh, it's an Irish place, and I can't resist! "
"Cool, sounds great, I'm sure I'll see you there!"
"Well, I was wondering, the parking over there is limited, and I thought maybe we could just go in one car?"
"Uh, sure, but I won't be staying long", I tell her.
"That's fine, Ill leave when you do. That way, if I don't feel comfortable, I'll at least have someone to talk to!" She says. "Thanks so much!" and she comes in close to me and squeezes my arm and gives it a simple rub. I can feel the very slight press of her breasts against my chest as she leaned in, and as soon as contact was made, a slight press in, firmer than expected, and then she pulled away.
We get in the car after work and head over. We have a couple pints of Guinness, laugh, talk, mingle. It's now just after midnight, and I am ready to go. She says her goodbyes, and we head out to my car, and head back to the store employee lot.
"Well, that was fun!" I say, "we should do that again sometime."
"I'd like that" she said, her voice dropping an octave. I'm not looking at her, waiting for her to get out of the car into hers.
"Ok, then, well, I guess I'll see you next Saturday," and then I glance over at her. She immediately turns and squares up to me, presenting her full face to me, and I notice one button more undone on her blouse than at the bar, and she leans it a bit, the blouse billowing out a bit, giving me a full view down her shirt, the roundness of those globes, so white and shiny in the blue parking lot lights making them seem almost spectral in appearance, as if sent from heaven! I look up from that glory, and I see her staring at me, and that crooked smile as she leans forward. Our lips lock, and an explosion of passion hits me.
Immediately, our tongues are entwined, we are thrusting them at each other with wild abandon. Her tongue if soft and full, and as we swirl them, my hands find that it's as soft as her body. They go from her hips up her rib cage, barely felt through the light layer of baby fat, up to those glorious breas...
I panic. We are in the employee parking lot. I'm a manager, she's an employee.
"Uh, Holly, not here, sorry. I got to go." I keep my hands to myself. And I stare forward, silently cursing myself, and at the same time thanking myself for just having the 2 pints, and not going for a 3
rd
, which would have meant no stopping, but also the mind is so impassioned that I can't think of "Your place or mine?" or anything else but, "Don't get fired for bedding a cashier."
There is silence. She is considering what just happened, what is happening. My heart is racing. I know that if she says, "Please..." I would continue. I hear a pout, a Sigh, and the interior light comes on as she opens the door to leave,
"Have a good ni..." SLAM.
"Shit!" I think to myself. "Now what?"
I drive home, and put it out of my head. I did the right thing, and I'm fine with that, and don't get into the "regret" or "might have been" thought process yet, in other words, I didn't bother with any fantasization. It is what it is, just a couple young people had a few drinks and got carried away. Wouldn't be the first girl I made out with and never took it any further.
