Third in Line

I've designed a new inside outside room for the rear deck. It will be surrounded by a set of café blinds and covered by a smoky grey alsynite roof, to be weather proof. The idea is a cosy sun filled room in winter, with a rug on the floor and second hand furniture that doesn't mind the cold. And shaded in summer, with the blinds rolled up to let the air flow. We never used the two umbrellas this year, too much hassle.

I placed an order for the timber and roofing at the big hardware store down the bottom of the hill, and this morning two Indian chaps with an old second hand truck delivered it. I was reminded of Brooke with her long ponytail, reversing the ute down the drive, but it wasn't the same. She looked over her shoulder at me, for a start. As she leaned forward onto the black couch and arched her back.

But the big store didn't have the brackets I wanted, so I went to my usual hardware store up on Main Road. The one where Brooke used to work, where Melissa works now. The store I go to for a fix. Melissa only works Saturdays, I think I know that now.

When I entered, my movement made Melissa look up, and she smiled. It might have been her friendly customer smile, the one she gives everyone, but I chose it differently.

She smiled at me, recognising me as the tall fellow who flirted with her at the counter that time, made her blush, as she quietly observed my attention. She burns gum logs in her open fire, and she's incendiary in mine. I'd happily be caught in her fire. I already am.

I went into the body of the store, down the stairs to the building section. I'd rather go up her stairs, to a room at the top with a bed under the window, and slowly undress her. My eagerness impossible to hide. She licks her lips when she sees it, and reaches out for me. Melissa's got soft brunette hair falls half way down her back, and it's loose, cut feathered. The cut softens her features, framing her face the way it does. It suits her, and all she has to do, if it falls over her eyes when she looks down at the counter, is flick it back with a quick turn of her head, and it behaves. Her eyes are bright when she does that.

I imagine Melissa keeps her pubic hair trimmed short, a neat tidy vee. I think this because her nails are immaculately kept, polished in a deep pink with the tiniest lines of gold painted on each one. She either does her nails herself or goes to a salon, but either way, she takes care of herself, her appearance. I think she's a woman who does this for herself, but doesn't mind if someone else notices. So it follows, she'll have neat pubic hair, kept trimmed. Dark hair, I'm sure of it, because the hair on her head is quite dark.

When I go to the counter I'm third in line. Melissa is there by herself, serving a woman with half a dozen plants and some potting mix, and the bloke in front of me has several tools. I watch Melissa as she scans the bar codes, saying something to the woman as she does. She's wearing a thick jumper with a curled down collar to keep her neck warm. It's still cold in the store. When she reaches for each object, I see from my distance that there's a faint tattoo on the outside of her wrist; but I'm too far back, and her movement too quick, I can't make out what it is.

The woolly jumper hides Melissa's name tag, hides her figure too, but I don't care. Her naked body with nicely curved breasts is very clear in my mind, along with her smile and those well kept fingernails. There's a point when I masturbate that the woman in my mind becomes featureless, anonymous, and I never know who she is. But I'm pretty sure that sometimes she's been Melissa, up those imaginary stairs.

Melissa finishes the sale, and the bloke in front of me moves forward to the counter, to be served by her. Like me, he's been waiting.

In the end I get served by Keith, who's seen me there, third in line. He's a nice enough chap, but he's just not my type, not like Melissa.

© ElectricBlue 2025