Moonlight Lust

You know when you go into a new grocery store how everything seems so mixed up? The bread is never where the bread is supposed to be. The peanut butter, the pizzas, the TV dinners, the chips, the beer….what? I’m a bachelor, or should I say, recently bachelored. Seems my ex wife still loved her old boyfriend who, to my amazement, had never left her life. C’est la vie. Life is short.

I recently moved to Colorado. New job. New start. New grocery store. I have always wanted to move to Colorado, to the mountains. Since my ex-wife and I did not have any children, this seemed like a good time to pursue the dream.

So, there I stood, a look of utter bewilderment on my face trying to find my stereotypical bachelor items. “You look lost,” a kind voice interrupted my shopping concentration.

“Well, I am. I don’t know where anything is,” I said, half laughing at myself.

“You must be here to ski. Not many vacationers come into our little grocery mart,” she observed, a hint of playful sarcasm in her voice.

She was a naturally beautiful woman. About 5 foot 5 inches, auburn hair pulled back into a ponytail. She had green eyes that smiled. She was wearing old Sorrell snow boots, and faded Levi 501 blue jeans that fit her perfectly. She had on a faded Big Head Todd and the Monsters T-Shirt. Her skin hinted at her love of the outdoors. She was a curvy woman with a beautifully round ass and healthy breasts. Her legs were stout, revealing her years of hiking, skiing, and just plain moving around the mountains. She had a wonderful air of confidence. Inviting. Her face was not what magazine editors are looking for in models, but to me, she was absolutely stunning. Real.

“Actually, I just moved here. I am renting a small cabin up on the mountain that, at the moment, has no food. I just got here yesterday. Can you help me?”

“I’m Stel,” she said, reaching out to shake hands. “Welcome to lovely Steamboat Springs. You have found the locals’ grocery mart, so you are doing well so far. What’s your name?”

“Sam. Nice to meet you Stel.” I returned the handshake and met her eyes. She had a firm handshake, the kind that suggests toughness, but all woman. There was something in her eyes that danced, and I felt myself staring longer than normal. I had not been with anyone since the divorce. Hell, I had not been with anyone for a long time before the divorce, including my ex. She apparently was too busy banging her ex, or I guess I should say, her current. Stel never broke my gaze.

“Come on, Sammy, let me help find what you need,” she said.

She guided me through the store. Since I was now a “local”, I had taken on a new status. I was one of them, even though Stel was the only one of them I now knew. As we walked and I shopped, we talked. She had been in Steamboat for about five years, riding the seasons. Skiing in the winter. Hiking, fishing, kayaking, and mountain biking in the summer. Her love of the mountains was refreshing. She was here because this was where she had chosen to be.

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