First Short Story

He aquí una pequeña historia que redacté en clase de Inglés. Los parámetros eran: tratar de imitar el estilo de la historia "A&P", de John Dike. Si tienen oportunidad de leer esta última, haganlo; es muy interesante. En fin, ésta es la idea que resulto después de un poco de "brainstorming" con mi equipo de trabajo. El inglés no está del todo bien pulido aún, pero sigo trabajando en eso. No hay título todavía... tal vez algún día le dé uno.

It would have been an incredibly boring day if it hadn’t been for Mrs. Hotty’s arrival. The moment I saw her approaching the shoes department, where I spend most of my day, a ton of exciting thoughts came rushing into my head. What a piece of art she was! Dark, long hair, small breasts, round hips, high heels. The perfect mix in an around four decades old bottle; mouthwatering. Lolo once told me that I was crazy for liking old, flaccid asses, but he doesn’t understand. Being in my early twenties, women my age are like a pack of retarded hens, bitching about every single thing: they never shut up, so it’s hard to concentrate when approaching them. They are more like a waste of space, I’d say. But not this woman: she stopped near the long boots shelf, looking at them and, after holding and moving each and every boot there, her eyes finally came across a model which she found pretty enough. She turned around, eyebrows high, looking for someone who could help her. Lauren, the only other clerk in shift, was nearby, on the other side of the rugged hall, and after exchanging some words, the lady’s lips moving in an inaudible way, Lauren came towards me.
“What an ass of a lady!”, Lauren said on her reaching my side. ‘You can say that again!’, I thought, looking at it from the distance. Lauren’s never been very happy with this job, I fancy. I wonder why she hasn’t quit yet. I wish she did.
“Why is that?”, I asked her when she came out of the storage room, at my back, with a red cardboard box under her arm.
“That woman just found the boots I wanted to buy with tomorrow’s bill” Lauren said in a very matter-of-fact way.
“Found?” I inquired.
“I was keeping them hidden on the shelf… They are the only pair left!”
Of course she did that. I wish she could just take the boots and quit. Well, not now. Now the boots were taken, which proves how unlucky I am.
Mrs. Hotty was still looking at the shelves, walking around very slowly, arms crossed over her chest, as if trying to hide the perfectness of her breasts. When she saw Lauren approaching her, she spotted the nearest leather stool and sat on it, removing her black high heel shoes. This is when I noticed the shape of her legs, now more visible under the long, tight dress. In a fraction of a second I could see her laying on the floor, with her clothes all ripped and then torn apart. Just the idea was too much, so I had to control myself and go into the storage room to let my electrifying thoughts find their way out of my body. Luckily (and this is the kind of luck everyone can claim to have when they are aware of coincidences), the store was rather empty, being a Tuesday, so there were not that much customers to help an nobody would miss me. In fact, Mrs. Hotty was the only client I had seen during the morning shift.
After a few minutes, relaxed, I went back into the shoes rugged territory, just in time to find Mrs. Hotty paying for her boots, which presumably had fitted her. I bet Lauren was very pleased to be receiving in her hands the money she would have paid for the same long ‘babies’, as she calls the shoes she likes: what a stupid girl!
Anyway, now Mrs. Hotty was closer to me than ever, next to the counter where the register is. I could see her skin tone, tanned and shinny, as if completely covered with thousands of tiny sweat drops. She turned her eyes to meet mine and I smiled politely, like the good clerk that I am. She did the same, letting her perfect teeth be shown between her carmine lips, but just for a second. She was not that interested in a twenty-three year old guy, but still you could tell that she had manners, which would translate into being intelligent. If you asked me, I would say that this is when it hit me: I needed to move fast so Lauren, who happens to be in charge when the manager is on her lunch break, didn’t notice what I was about to do.
Making sure that I was completely out of Lauren’s sight, I grabbed the little clock we keep in one of the shelves (the one where the stapler and other supplies are) and quickly moved the minute hand forwards. Suddenly, it was five to three.
Mrs. Hotty finished paying and, grabbing her newly bought boots, she continued looking at the other shoe shelves, heading the way she had come from and out of the shoes department: her raid to my domains had finished. I walked to the counter and ducked behind it, reaching for my backpack and, leaving my boring tie in the drawer, I waved to Lauren.
“I’ll see you in an hour” I told her while she was working some sums out, I guessed, since she was hitting the calculator with her gross, long nails on the other side of the long counter. I bet she was still thinking of the bitch who had taken her babies. When she heard me she did turn around, spotting the clock and with surprise on her face she didn’t say a thing. Good for her.
I walked rather fast, trying to imagine where the trail of Mrs. Hotty’s smell would be. Coincidentally, not too far away I saw her turning left on the perfumes department, heading out. From then on, I didn’t take my eyes off her, discreetly. It was an amazing evening. Too bad I never got to know her real name. In any case, I am still wondering if I should give the brown babies to Lauren. She doesn’t really deserve them. She’d be happy enough to know that she won’t ever see that old bitch again, being so stupid and shallow, but she doesn’t deserve that knowledge either. Let’s just see how the year goes, and if she behaves, maybe I’ll give her the boots for Christmas. Who knows? One day she’ll be older and have, hopefully, more brains.