Sandy and I continued our occasional walks, though our exercise routine didn't result in another meeting like we had Thanksgiving day. I'd usually see her going out, and follow till I caught up to her. Our conversations deepened, and we found we were getting quite close. One day, she seemed stressed. I asked what was up.
"I could use a break from all the holiday madness." She looked at me, the look on her face saying, 'take me away from this.'
"Maybe it's time for a shopping trip," I said, hoping to start her thinking. "I mean, it's almost mid December. It's getting closer and closer to the big day."
"Yeah, you're right. I usually take a day and tell everyone I'm going shopping, if you want anything for Christmas, let me be, and don't call me!!" Sandy said with a laugh.
"That usually works for me. I take a day and go into town, and work the stores til I'm done. Or fed up." Sandy laughed at that approach. "I have an idea..."
Sandy looked at me curiously. "And that would be..." she smiled.
"My wife and daughter in law do a shopping day every year. They take a whole day, go in and basically do the same thing I do, but for them it's an event. For me, it's a grind!! Then they have dinner somewhere, and don't get home til mid evening."
"OK," said Sandy, picking up on where I was going. "So we should do the same thing."
"Exactly. We'll have to leave here separately, but, yeah. I'll get us a room somewhere for the day, we can bring in lunch, and then you and I can be dessert."
Sandy laughed at the characterization. "I like it," she said, smiling as she looked at me. "I think it'll be fun."
"I'm sure of it," I said. "I think I'm going to enjoy you being my tasty treat." I licked my lips.
"Ooohhhhhh," said Sandy, realizing what was in store for her.
"I'll find out when they're going, and either see you here, or text you."
"Sounds good," said Sandy. "Almost like a real date!!" We were around the back side of the neighborhood, away from houses. She took my hand, holding it tightly. "This should be fun. I'm already looking forward to it."
A week later, we had made our arrangements for the next Saturday, which would be the second weekend prior to Christmas. I got a room at one of the non-descript chain motels not far from the interstate, about 30 miles from our town. That morning, my wife and daughter in law took off about nine. I left about 30 minutes behind them. I had told Sandy I was going to do some shopping before we met, which she was going to do also. We figured coming home with a car full of bags would not only give us some cover, but also accomplish the necessary objective of getting Christmas loot for those in our particular circles. We'd meet around two at the motel.
I got there first, around 1:45, and went to the room, setting the AC so that it wouldn't be stuffy. Even in December, we're far enough south here that a 60 degree day is not unusual-a little warm, but not by much. As it was, I was in jeans and a button down short sleeve shirt, comfortable for the low 60's day it had turned out to be. The room was a little warm, so it was good I got there early. Sandy showed up about 30 minutes later with a bag in hand. She'd picked us up a couple of cheese steaks from a nearby place that was known for such things, as well as their killer potato salad, even 1200 miles from Philadelphia.
Sandy herself was looking like the girl next door I knew, boot cut jeans, light flannel shirt in a pink plaid, open over what appeared to be a maroon tank top. We sat at the small table next to the bed and dug into our lunch, a welcome respite from the madness of the Christmas mall rush.
It was still a little warm in the room, and Sandy quickly took off the flannel shirt that was her outer layer. What I thought had been a tank turned out to be more of a camisole, though made out of T shirt material. The only things holding it up were a pair of spaghetti straps, which were doing yeoman duty keeping her reined in, not entirely successfully. Sandy is not Dolly Parton, but she does carry generous C tits, which were pulling her top away from her so that the straps were pulling away from her body. They might have had less strain on them had she been wearing a bra, though I was pleased she wasn't. Her tits were full and round, her nipples starting to poke through the thin fabric now that she was out of the flannel. She giggled as she felt the coolness stiffen her nipples.
We started in on our lunch, Sandy trying my potato salad, which she really liked. As we got into our meal, she asked how my day was going. "I haven't imploded yet," I said. "That's always a plus this time of year." I looked over the table at her.
"Not good, huh??"
"No. The short version is that, after my mom doing her best to spoil Christmas for me-well, maybe not completely intentionally, but that was the result anyway, I think she was more interested in getting at my dad than anything else-I had a couple of years where Christmas didn't go well. One year I had a bonus that paid out almost $1500. I sent about $1250 home, kept the rest to buy stuff for the kids and such. I spoiled myself on a steak dinner at Grandma Max's in the Bosselman's in Des Moines..."
"You used to be a truck driver??"
"Yeah, for about five years. It was interesting. I liked it. I was well paid-made $50K a couple of years-and liked the people I worked with. Plus, as long as I picked up and delivered on time, and didn't get into accidents, they left me alone. So, anyway, my wife asked me what I wanted for Christmas. I told her-one item, a pair of Timberlands. At the time, 1998, the ones I wanted were about $110. I don't ask for much-I'm not driven by gadgets or tools, or stuff in general, and I'm told I'm hard to buy for, since I don't give a lot of hints, or make mention of things I'd like to have."
"So, you didn't get the boots??"
"Nope. Not only that, I didn't get a damn thing otherwise, either. Not a happy Christmas. There's a lot more to that story, but it's too long for now."
"Ouch," said Sandy. "Nothing like getting shut out."
"Yeah, and in front of the kids and everything. It was kinda tense for a while. My wife said, 'I spent it on the kids.' I said, I sent you over $1200. You couldn't spend a little on me, especially after you asked me?? I never did get a good answer to that."