The liquor store lady

There is this liquor store in the mall where I usually do my shopping for groceries. I’ve been coming in there for several years every now and then to buy my booze. Most of the time when I came in the store, there was the same lady behind the counter, who really attracted my attention. She was in her early fifties, I guessed, not too tall and somewhat chubby. She wasn’t exceptionally beautiful. Her face was nice and friendly, with kind blue eyes and nice full lips, but rather plain nevertheless, with relatively short brown hairs draped around it that sometimes were dyed blond. Not that it was her hair that attracted my attention. What always caught my eye was her massive chest. This lady had some seriously big boobs. She usually wore plain and rather wide clothes, but even so the massive mounds she carried always stood out clearly. Sometimes she wore a sweater or something that showed just a bit of cleavage, which always made my day.
When I came in on Saturdays, when it was always very busy, there often was a girl about sixteen or seventeen years of age with her. I always assumed this was the lady’s daughter who was helping her out, because there was a certain resemblance in both women’s facial features. They shared the same blue eyes and full lips. Otherwise the younger woman looked quite different, being quite slim and substantially taller than the older one as well as having much longer, curly blond hairs. Though she was slim, she did sport a nice ass and a pair of decent boobs, even when these were nowhere near as large as the older woman’s.

Though I was certainly very much attracted to the liquor store lady, I never seriously considered making a pass at her. I assumed her to be married – I don’t know why, maybe because of her daughter that I really wasn’t even sure was her daughter – and maybe because she was some twenty years older than I was. She was always very friendly to me, but then I supposed she would be friendly to all her customers. We never had a conversation that went beyond meaningless chatter.
Whenever I was in the liquor store, though, looking around at the selection of scotch they carried or standing in line with the bottle of my choice, I could never keep myself from eyeing the lady’s huge chest. I always thought I managed to do this in a discreet manner and I assumed she was too busy with other customers to notice anyway. I was wrong, though.

One Friday night, after having done my grocery shopping, I walked into the liquor store shortly before closing time. There weren’t any other customers inside and the only person in the store was the lady, standing behind the counter as always. I said hello to her, smiling and she smiled back. As usually, I walked over to where the bottles of scotch were. I glanced over the selection for a minute before settling on a bottle of Talisker. I picked up the bottle, walked over to the counter and put it down. The lady smiled and told me how much it was. I had already noticed she was once again wearing a sweater that showed just a bit of cleavage and while I took out my wallet and she opened the cash register, I couldn’t help but stare at it. I gave her a bill and she handed my change. While I was putting the bottle away in my grocery bag, she suddenly said, “you like looking at me, don’t you?”
This remark completely took me off guard and could do nothing but stare at her with what must have been a pretty silly look on my face.
She smiled again, this time with a hint of mischief in her blue eyes I had never seen before. “Or rather,” she said, “you like looking at certain parts of me.”
“I’m sorry,” I stammered, blushing, “I didn’t mean to offend you, I just, I mean, I couldn’t help but notice you are very attractive.”
“Don’t be sorry,” she whispered. She leaned over to me, resting her massive mounds on the counter. “I’m flattered a young man such as yourself finds a woman my age very attractive.”
I didn’t know what to say, being quite taken aback by this sudden turn of events.
She straightened and grabbed a piece of paper and a pen. While she wrote something down, she said, “I’m going to close up shop for the night. This is my address. Meet me there in an hour. That is, if you really find me very attractive.”
She handed me the piece of paper. I took it, scarcely being able to believe this was actually happening. “Sure,” I said, “I will.”

I went home and put away my groceries. The address the lady had given me was only a few blocks away from my own home, so there was no need to hurry. I took a shower and put on some clean clothes, wondering what was going to happen.