Rain and Champagne
I really do despise the rain. It’s cold, has the ability to keep you in one place, makes you sleepy and unproductive. However, there are a few exceptions to this rule.
1) You have someone to snuggle with.
2) You have champagne.
(Or, the perfect solution being a combination of item 1 and item 2)
Since I am alone, and it is reaching 5pm, I decide to venture out to acquire some bubbly. Hunger kicking in, I opt to also buy some soup and a baguette. I arrive at the wine store. Now, this isn’t your regular bottle shop. I am lucky enough to live 2 minutes away from a huge, gourmet wine store, with lots of wine and champagne and nibbles to boot. It’s one of my favorite places to be.
I walk in, make my selection, and walk to the register. I am greeted by a pretty girl with a warm smile.
“Hi, how are you?” she inquires as she busies herself tallying up my goods.
“Ugh, to be truthful, I hate the rain. The only thing that can remedy the weather is champagne.” I smile and look at her.
“Oh, I totally agree….and yes, I agree about the champagne. Where are you from? London?”
I’m surprised she picked up on the accent so quickly. It’s very watered down these days…Good guess, but like most, she’s wrong.
“No, I am from Australia.” She’s staring intently at me now, and I feel the warmth of embarrassment wash over me. In a hurry to get out the door and return quickly, I had thrown on a huge sweater, jeans, slipped on some shoes, and swept my hair up with pins. Not my most attractive look.
She coos “Oh, well don’t ever lose it, your accent is lovely.” Again, she’s looking directly into my eyes with a big smile.
Some time has passed since I have put my hands on a woman, but I have recently yearned to taste pussy again. So her attention has jolted me to another place, and I realize my own pussy has started to buzz with the attention she’s given me. I’m suddenly looking at her long hair and thinking about how I could pull on it and make her mine. Lose myself in it. As she places my champagne in the paper bag I catch a glimpse of her small wrists. I can see them pinned above her head, exposing her breasts, my mouth flickering over her nipples, and onto her neck. Suddenly I shiver and it’s not because I am cold. Quite the opposite at this point.
I look at her, nervously smile, thank her and walk away. I can feel her eyes still on me, watching me hastily exit out the door.
I make a mental note to add a new exception to my list. The weather is acceptable if you have a pretty girl to play with. She has made me very, very warm.