I don’t often find anything good about my weekly food shop, diary. It is a grind. I don’t mind cooking it and eating it but buying it is the pits. I have to fight for space down the packed aisles and always end up forgetting something or squishing something delicate by not packing my bags well enough. It’s hell on earth. I go in there armed with my list, my shopping bags and my elbows and always treat myself to a big ol’ glass of wine when I get home. I figure I deserve it.
However, last night’s shop was far more interesting than usual. I went in a little later as I’d had to work overtime and found it not as crowded, thank God. I was almost dead on my feet, my brain was fried from hours of typing and calculating and the last place I wanted to be was in the supermarket. But funnily enough, my family is pretty demanding when it comes to getting fed. So I set off to enjoy the extra space and thinking time. I didn’t need to elbow anyone, it was almost a pleasant experience. When I reached the pasta aisle I saw a young man restocking the shelves. I glanced once then looked again, letting my gaze linger. I noticed that he had a deliciously tight arse and it was well defined by his trousers every time he bent down to pick up more stock.
I stayed there, pretending to decide what kind of pasta to plump for when really I knew I needed spaghetti. I watched his bum with barely contained delight but nearly jumped out of my skin when he spoke.
“Are you alright there?” he asked. The lad had a handsome face too, topped with dark, lazily curling hair, chocolate brown eyes and a disarming smile.
“Ha, erm, well, yes, I’m fine,” I stuttered, “just wondering which pasta I need.”
“Oh, okay.” He carried on stacking, I grabbed the spaghetti and hurried on. I was flushed, I was giggly and I felt brilliant. I know I’m a married woman and honestly, the guy was probably half my age but a woman can fantasise, right? And hot shop boy has certainly fuelled my fantasies. I confessed to Mr Divine as soon as I got home, he just laughed and called me cute. He’s so good to me and never gets jealous, but then I tend to point out hot red heads for him when we’re out together, so it evens out.
The great thing about fleshing out a fantasy is that you can make the good looking guy into whatever kind of person you want him to be. I gave hot shop boy a mean, dominant streak and had him spank me over his empty stock trolley for dropping a packet of spaghetti on the floor then he took me, right there in the aisle because he couldn’t help himself. I could imagine it so vividly, that I had to clamp a pillow over my mouth so I didn’t cry out. Now if only I can pick up an easy orgasm every time I go to the supermarket…