Parking Lot Ch. 02

{It isn't every day that some woman does a naughty show in a vehicle right next to you. Most women are on the modest side, at least in public.

But there really are those females that for some reason get off on showing off, usually it is a low cut top with lots of cleavage, or a thin top and no bra with all of the jiggling. Much rarer are the ones with more courage that allow a nipple to show, the up skirts with panties happens right along, up skirts without panties are nearly always deliberate.

Let's face it, women KNOW when their beaver is hanging out.

So it's when they are in a situation where they feel safe and that they aren't going to get caught that we can find out what women are really like deep down inside.

Just think of how much fun it would be to actually KNOW what your wife or lady friend was thinking about? Getting a male excited is almost like a conquest.

Sometimes a man gets to find out about their mate, from what I read, but most often we don't.

I was at that shopping center several times after that incident, OK, I admit it. I was looking for the little blue convertible. And that blonde, that turned me on about as much as it is possible to do.

My wife Debra knew damn good and well why all of a sudden I was willing to go down there with her, of course she did.

She just thought that was hilarious, but then, my Debs is way different than most women.

But then, she was also getting the benefit, for quite some time I was more active than normal.

Yep. Rambling again, way it is. I always do, at my age I can if I want to.}

+++

There was no tiny blue car, no blonde. Yep, I was looking, guilty as charged.

Debra knew that, too. To get me to go to a shopping center normally requires threats, begging, even then it typically would take a bull dozer and some logging chain to drag me to one.

Suddenly I was willing, at least for perhaps a half dozen times. I sat out in the truck, way across the lot from the store looking for a repeat, good lord that was hot!

This pretty blonde woman had exposed herself completely and deliberately to me as I sat there in my truck watching.

I did tell the wife about that, our new agreement is that we keep no secrets from each other. That was due to some incidents, both of us guilty and for awhile there our relationship got sticky. I even thought of leaving her, for several long and miserable days I actually did.

But at our ages, there really is no such thing as starting over. Replacing a mate over an indiscretion is sometimes over the top, especially when a man is 99% happy with their woman.

Some men really can put the hurt and upset behind them, I am proof of that. But then, I also stuck myself in where it didn't belong, later certainly, yet no less guilt.

So Debs and I had that long talk, no more messing around with anyone else, we would be content with each other. Topless, fine. Massages, even the naughty ones, hell, we both liked those and it was only hands and touch, so why not?

Sticking it inside some other woman, or any other male sticking it in my Debs was now agreed to be a complete.. NO!

Limits. There had to be limits. There has to be trust, also. I believed Debra, and of course I knew I could handle myself.

+++

Back at that damn college, a bit of booze, some contact high from the kids around smoking dope, a woman that is about as sexual as one can get yet having gone weeks on end without. Then add in a good looking young professor and yeah, things can happen.

But then, I did some things I probably should not have.

So, I told Debs all about what happened that afternoon in the Safeway parking lot. I didn't have to even make anything up, that display was absolutely obscene!

And, obviously completely deliberate.

Debs just thought it was funny.

+++

"You said she was getting and sending texts?" Debra asked me as I helped her unload her purchases. I was also grazing on the sack of grapes she bought, she finally reached out and took them away from me since she knows I would eat all of them if she didn't.

"Yes, looked like that. That was before she did the lie down and give me a beaver shot thing." I chortled, the vision still fresh in my mind.

"I bet she was talking to her husband or boyfriend, he was somewhere getting off on it."

"Maybe. I don't know."

"Some women are that way, remember the woman I saw in my office last year? The one that told me she and her husband went up to that shoe store so he could watch her flash?" Debra snickered at that.

"Yeah." I cleverly didn't say any more, Debra and I had driven up there, the idea was that she wanted to try it. But then the clerk had shown more interest in some 30 something and Debs got into a mild snit about it so we left without doing anything.

"I think what you saw is something like that, some couple getting their jollies." She gave me a big smile.

It wasn't too long after that before the two of us were snuggling up on our couch. We really do that a lot, probably different right there considering both of us are mature.

But then I mostly forgot all about the parking lot incident, life goes on around our place. I did drive Debra to the store several times, but nothing happened.

That got boring so I went back to being as normal as I can ever be.

+++

The wife and I live in a coastal town in Oregon, and every year they do this Tuna cooking competition.

That is what they call it, but every restaurant or café in town's idea of cooked Tuna is slice off a raw chunk of it, burn the outside edge of it and leave the middle raw. Some of them don't even bother to burn the outside edges of the stuff.

Wrap it up in seaweed, stuff in some Rice or something, got to do SOMETHING to kill the taste, I guess.

Sushi, they call that.

I hate raw fish, but Debra gobbles the stuff down like it's good that way or something.

There were a couple of guys I know that had some food laid out, and they had a small gas stove there, so I asked them to cook me a piece, well done.

They looked at me like I was crazy but they did cook a nice chunk, they had a dipping sauce in a bowl so I poured a liberal dose of that on the chunk of fish.

The sauce turned out to be that Srirachi stuff, holy shit that was hot!

Hot and I do not get along, not one bit.

I was coughing, grabbed some water, the one guy was staring at me, probably wondering if I was going to die right there in front of him.

"Are you OK, sir?" A woman next to me asked.

Almost choking, I turned to look at her.

It was the blonde!!

I wanted to open my mouth to say something but by then Debs was right there and she had one of those little cartons of milk she had grabbed from somewhere.

That helped.

Debra was leading me by the hand towards our car, I managed to get enough breath to speak.

"That was her." I managed.

"Who?" She looked at me oddly.

"The woman that did that, you know, the parking lot stuff?" I managed, still gasping.

"Really?" Debs paused and looked back.

"I know her, she was in my office last week." She said.

+++

I didn't die although for a moment I thought I was going to. We got home, I went in and sat down, telling myself that this was the last damn Tuna cookout thing I was ever going to go to.

Fucking Tuna belongs in a can, take it out and spread it on bread, in my opinion.

Certainly not raw, and NOT with some fire sauce on it.

"Miranda Collins." Debs said, bringing me some more ice cold water.

"What?"

"That woman, the one you saw in the parking lot? That is Miranda Collins, she is married to the guy who owns the Bayfront Diner."

I have never been in the Bayfront, for one thing it is way down on the far end of the street and I don't want to walk that far. That isn't even half a mile, I don't care, I don't want to walk that far.

I go to Jack's, which is a standard fare restaurant that opens nice and early, and serves breakfast all dang day right up until midnight.

Hash browns scattered out and fried up nice and crisp the way they are supposed to be, big gob of real butter on top. Eggs sunny side up cooked in butter on medium heat so the butter gets all foamy and you can splash it over the top of them.

Why it is called Jack's is beyond me, there is no "Jack" there, the place is owned by an old lady and they have a solid stream of new waitresses. Fishing town, big strong men and they all tease whoever is on shift with no mercy.

Any waitress that works there had better be tough.

Yeah, I know. Sexual harassment and all of that, but like I said. This is a fishing town, the men are big and tough and they just love teasing women.

Plus a lot of the women seem to enjoy it, so they tease right back. That makes the tips bigger, it is the way things work.

Still, tourist town also, lots of turnover.

I wander down there to visit, shoot the shit and swap lies with the local fishermen, plus I see my sort of son in law Hal Jordan who is our County Sheriff.

(Hal married our sort of daughter Sandi (with an "I), the one I found hiding under the bottom shelf in our bathroom from her abusive boyfriend. Man, was he a piece of shit, gave us all fits for about 2-3 weeks until Hal went out to the homeless camp the jerk stayed in and "explained" why it might be best if he left town.

He did.

We just kind of.. kept Sandi, might be the word. I wrote that story, it is on here somewhere.)

Anyway.

+++

"Hey, how about we go out to dinner tonight?" Debra gave me the biggest shit eating grin you ever saw.

She wanted to go to the Bayfront, of course.

I got that, she was curious, me too, so we went out for a nice dinner.

The Bayfront is kind of a neat place, for one thing, it isn't a building, it's a ship. Well, more like a boat, it is about 60 feet long and inside looks nice.

Also expensive! And, busy! It took us half an hour to get seated, good thing it was the middle of the week because I saw the sign that read "reservations required on Friday and Saturday."

I just about choked when I saw the prices, but what the hell. Debra is the Doctor on staff at the local clinic so we could easily afford it, plus I sold a bunch of stuff on one of the online auctions sites, so we are not hurting for money.

I spotted their "Grade A black Angus ground Sirloin sandwich, $16.95?? I know a fucking hamburger when I see one and I would bet $20 that part of the meat was from some old Jersey milk Cow but oh well.

I ordered the Sole, which is a fancy way of saying "Flounder." For those of you that don't know what that is, it is a flat fish with eyes on top of it's head, I have caught them by the wash tub full when the run is in.

Odds were pretty high I could go out on the deck and catch some right off the side of the restaurant, and I was tempted to go take a look to see if they were doing exactly that.

The cost was $25.95. Lord. Coffee extra.

But then they told us they were out of Sole? I managed to not launch into explaining to them how to catch the things. You know, a hook, a sand shrimp, toss it over the side, should only take maybe 2-3 minutes.

I actually opened my mouth to do exactly that but Debs gave me that look, so I shut up and ordered the Lingcod instead.

But it was neat, there was a round window we could look out and see the bay, and I also noticed the floor was moving slightly, kind of like that big cruise ship we were on awhile back.

I knew the tide was running in the river, the boat was clearly actually floating, tied up to the dock.

I looked up and here came the blonde, Miranda, to be our drinks server. She also seemed to be the one that ran around with the basket of hot bread, too.

She sure was pretty, I guessed her to be in her middle twenties. She smiled at us, but showed no sign at all of recognition. I could understand her not recognizing me, but she had been in Debra's office a week before and didn't appear to recognize here, either.

I did my best to keep a straight face, she at that moment had no idea at all that I knew what her clit looked like, knew that there was a tuft of blonde pubic hair that curled upwards right above it, and I knew she has soft pinkish colored nipples on rather nice roundish breasts.

The food was good and the service excellent, Debs and I even treated ourselves to a mixed drink. She had one of those White Russians, I had my usual Bourbon and Cola. Fifteen bucks right there, man.

We didn't let on that we knew, of course not. The gal was working, besides, what would we say?

"Hi! I remember you, you are the one that showed me your pussy and tits down at Safeway the other day."

Yeah. That would be cool, right?

But it was a nice night out, a nice meal, and no, I didn't have any of the Tuna. I had the big chunk of Lingcod, that is an ugly as it is possible to be fish with teeth that can and will use them on you if you aren't careful. I know, I have caught quite a few of them off the local jetty.

I have a couple of small scars to prove it.

Debs had some Tuna though. It looked to be raw too.

Oh well.

+++

"I checked our appointments this morning, Mrs. Collins is coming in next Tuesday. I think I will talk to her about what she is doing." Debra said as we drove home.

"Why?" I asked.

"Well, for one thing, she probably only weighs 110 pounds, and if she is doing things like you describe, that is dangerous. Some men like you will just look and do nothing, but some men might.. you know, try to grab her, who knows?"

"You talk about things like that with your clients?" I asked, already knowing that yes, Debs probably did.

"Of course. It is part of my job, after all, sexuality is just a part of life. So in my office, any subject is fair game." She grinned at me.

OK. I have heard my Debra say that a jillion times, I could have written it down. Plus Debra is likely the naughtiest female I ever met in my whole life. She does things like spend extra time checking out her male client's equipment, claiming we would sit at home and die before we would go see a physician, if she didn't do something.

I know, I met Debra in her office on my follow up after my Medicare physical. She does lots of what is called Geriatrics, and that is why her waiting room is full of old farts like me, I guess.

Now understand that as a medical practitioner, Debra can't tell me about what goes on in her office, ethics and all of that.

Debra tells me all sorts of things that goes on in her office, of course she does, we are married and we sleep together.

So I know about as much of what goes on around our little town as she does.

Small towns can be kind of like that book, "Peyton Place." There are wife swappers, women getting some on the side, men getting some, then we have exhibitionists like that Miranda Collins gal.

It is just the way it is.

+++

"So, how did it go?" I asked Debs as soon as she got home. She knew exactly what I wanted to know.

"About Mrs. Collins? Yes, I talked to her, at first she was terribly embarrassed but I put her at ease. It was like I thought, her husband likes to show her off and sometimes has her do things like you saw."

I thought about it for a moment, I guess I could understand that. After all, Debra and I went down to the men's club down the coast a couple of years back, and she got up on the stage herself. I got a real kick out of that, and I guess the word is, I was proud of the way she brought the house down.

That was just that one time, though.

"She told me she picked you because you looked so harmless." Debs broke out giggling at that.

"Me? Harmless?" I pretended to act all offended.

"Well, you do look a bit like a Grandpa, with the cute bald head and the streaks of white in your hair." She reached up and rubbed the top of my head.

"OK. So what is the outcome?" I asked, sliding my pan of dinner rolls out of the oven.

"Damn, those look good." Debs used a spatula to slide one out, got some butter and spread it on.

"And?" I encouraged her.

"Want to take me shopping next Saturday? Say, about eleven?" Debra glanced over at me to see my reaction.

"You are kidding me."

"No, I'm not."

"You mean.. she is going to show up and..?"

"Yep. Why not? You get to look, she gets to show off, her hubby gets his jollies, and when I get you home...?" Up went one eyebrow, I realized that for some nutty reason, the idea of what might go on was fussing her up.

I did mention my Debs is on the kinky side, didn't I? Lots of times she has elbowed me if she sees some foxy looking thing to make sure I don't miss out.

Plus a whole bunch of other things that have gone on that no one believes, including me.

Actually, as I write this, today is Saturday, the 14th of November. It's 10 AM here, so time to take Debra...shopping?

Lord. This could turn out to be some real crazy stuff. Set up by my wife, how is THAT for not believable?

I would write the rest but it hasn't happened yet.

Will the Collins lady even show up? Will her husband be around somewhere, watching?

I don't have a clue.

"HO HO, a shopping we will go!" I was singing using that Christmas jingle as we headed for my truck.

That got Debs to giggling so badly for a moment I thought I was going to need to use my inhaler on her.

This sure all sounds like it could be fun.