Coctease

The sharp click of high heels echoed through the 7-11, slicing through the hum of refrigerators and the occasional beep of the cash register. Two men at the counter--one clutching a six-pack, the other sliding a pack of cigarettes to the cashier--paused mid-transaction, their heads turning in unison.

Solana strode through the store, the thought of a cold treat pulling her in after a draining day at work. The A-line skirt she wore first drew the men's eyes to her slim waist, then flared out just enough to guide their gaze down to the rounded contours of her butt cheeks, where their attention lingered.

"Damn," said one of the men, his stare drifting lower to where the hem flirted with her knees. "Bet there's something real nice hiding under there."

His companion let out a low whistle as his eyes followed the sway of her hips. "Wouldn't mind getting a piece of that."

Just ignore them and get your drink, Solana told herself as she approached the Slurpee machine. Why do they always have to stare?

"Look at her, like she doesn't know what she's doing to us." The other nodded.

At the Slurpee machine, her slender fingers gripped the handle as she filled her cup, the churning ice a momentary distraction from the stares behind her. With the snap of the lid, she once again felt the men's gazes trailing over, now following how her white blouse clung to the lean lines of her shoulders and back with every reach and bend of her arms.

I wish they'd just leave me alone. The indistinct murmur of their voices was starting to piss her off. She knew that whatever they were saying was crude, unsavory, and undoubtedly about her.

"Turn around, cocktease."

"Yeah, we want to see what those titties look like."

As Solana turned and hurried toward the cashier, the men craned their necks for a better view of her chest. But they managed only a partial peek from the side--not enough to satisfy their curiosity.

Why do they have to be so immature? she thought as she pulled out her wallet.

Determined to get a better look, the men moved to the front of the store, positioning themselves like spectators at a parade, eager for an unobstructed view of her exit.

"Thank you, ma'am. Have a nice day," said the cashier, his eyes darting between the men and Solana's steely expression.

"You too," she forced out with a tight smile.

With a deep breath, she made a sharp turn to face her oglers, bracing herself as she prepared to leave. The movement sent a tress of dark hair slipping across her face, obscuring one side. A quick toss of her head, sent the wayward locks back over her shoulder, revealing to the men her softly rounded jaw, the inviting curve of her lips, and the elusive focus of her blue eyes.

"Beautiful," one of the men mouthed as the other licked his lips.

Disgusting leches, Solana thought, rolling her eyes before strutting down what felt like a catwalk for Barbary sex slaves.

Bitch thinks she's better than us, mused one of the men, his eyes narrowing and mouth tightening into a vengeful grin.

As she approached the door, their eyes locked on the sight they'd been waiting for: a barely modest, rounded bust rising and falling beneath her blouse, the top buttons undone just enough to suggest, but not reveal.

One of the men opened the door for her. "Thank you, come again," he said with a nod and a smile of approval.

She responded with a dismissive glance. The images of one tall and broad-shouldered, the other shorter and thickly muscled, flashed in her mind before she got the hell out of there.

"Bet she likes it rough," the shorter one said, thrusting his hips.

Outside, a gust of wind greeted her, lifting the hem of her skirt to reveal long, taut legs clad in skin-toned stockings that reached her upper thighs. Just as the wind settled, another sudden gust blew the fabric higher, flashing a sliver of silver panties. Letting out a shriek, she frantically pressed down the billowing fabric with one hand while clutching her Slurpee with the other.

Inside, the two men's stares intensified as they watched her skirt fly up. Their expressions were a mix of surprise and hunger, like predators spotting vulnerable prey.

The taller man swallowed hard. "Well ain't that a piece of heaven," he said, his fingers clenching around the cold cans, knuckles turning white. A heady rush surged through him that raced to his groin, engorging his cock. His mind churned with images of what lay beyond those flittering glimpses of intimacy as he shifted on his feet, trying to ease the growing tension.

After a few desperate twists and twirls--like a ballerina on a wind-up music box suddenly set loose--she bent her knees and pressed her thighs together, struggling to preserve her modesty. As the wind subsided, she noticed the amused smirks of the two men she had just escaped. Perverts, she wanted to scream at them. She picked up the purse that had slipped from her arm and onto the ground, then gave them the finger over her shoulder as she hurried back to her car.

The men exchanged amused glances before turning back to watch her retreating figure.

"Feisty, eh?" asked the shorter man.

"For now," the taller man replied, imagining what her legs would look like, spread wide and flailing while she's on her back. "Until someone breaks her."

I need to get out of here, she thought, her hands fumbling over the buttons, pressing the wrong one twice before finally unlocking the door and sliding into the driver's seat. Settled, she caught her reflection in the rearview mirror--cheeks flushed, lips parted, her breath uneven. The memory of their amused eyes on her felt like a brand, hot and persistent.

Get it together, she told herself, fingers quivering as they gripped the steering wheel.

Her phone buzzed from the passenger seat, drawing her attention away from the distress of the encounter. She picked it up, reading the message from her daughter,

Tierra.

- Where are you?!

- At 7-11. Heading home now.

She glanced again at the store's entrance. The two men stepped out, laughing while looking in her direction.

Please don't follow me, please don't follow me, she kept thinking as she pulled out of the parking lot and into the city streets, her eyes checking the mirrors until she was sure the men weren't behind her.

At a stoplight, she exhaled in relief and remembered the Slurpee in the cup holder. She picked it up, the frosty condensation calming her shaky hands. Her tongue peeked out of her glossed lips to search for the tip of the oversized straw, finally finding it despite the distraction of driving. Having captured the elusive straw, she wrapped her mouth around it to secure it in place. Her lips pursed into the shape of a kiss as she pulled in the icy, sweet flavor, her lush lashes fluttering in relief as the chill traveled down her parched throat. Satisfied after a few sips, she put the drink back into the holder and focused on navigating through the glare of the setting sun.

Solana released the tension she hadn't realized was in her shoulders when she arrived at the bend of her driveway. She gathered her belongings before stepping out of the car and onto the gravel. With a steady stride, she made her way to the door. As she crossed the threshold, the familiar scents and ambiance of her sanctuary embraced her, offering a much-needed sense of safety and comfort.