She’d have to find a way to suitably reward him for all his hard work once he finished, Amanda reflected, sitting back down in her chair. The scent of her own arousal wafted up from between her legs.
“Buy batteries,” she told herself, resisting the urge to let her fingers slide up under her skirt, forcing them to glide along her silky thigh instead. Amanda’s toes curled inside their shoes. Thus, she passed the day in a light, pleasant buzz, rewarding herself for tasks completed with radiant tingling sparked by fingertips against the nylon.
Around five, she fairly danced out of the building, limbs buzzing with energy, brain a little foggy with pleasure, and so just distracted enough that she walked straight into a homeless woman outside, knocking her over.
“Oh my god I’m so sorry!” Amanda gushed, blushing hotly as she gave the other woman a hand.
One green eye and one blue eye regarded her from beneath a fringe of tight grey curls.
“Don’t worry about it, honey.” Amanda couldn’t place the accent.
“Do I- do I know you?” She asked, memory triggering somewhere in the fogged-in back of her head.
“No.” The other woman’s teeth gleamed as she smiled. Amanda helped her scoop up a collection of gewgaws and clutter that had fallen out of her overstuffed carpet bag, unmindful of how much leg she was showing off as she did. “Thank you child.”
Amanda didn’t hear her. She was too busy staring at a cello-wrapped oblong package; the cardboard within was white, but a tiny square window revealed a stretch of opaque black nylon.
“Is this-” she began, heart trip-hammering in her chest, “where did you get these?” She asked, waving the package.
“Oh, somewhere,” the old woman waved a hand. “I forgot they were there. I don’t wear them, me.” She lifted the hem of her broomstick skirt to prove it, but Amanda wasn’t watching. “Do you like them?”
“I love them.” The response was immediate and emphatic. “If you don’t want them, will you sell these to me?”
“Sell them?” The old woman laughed. “No, but I’ll give them to you. Just enjoy them, enjoy your life with them, enjoy your family with them. That’s all I ask.”
“Sure, sure.” Amanda agreed, not really listening. Her fingers wanted to open the pack so badly. “Oh thank you so much!” Suddenly, she was hugging the other woman, face buried in clean-smelling curls that crunched as she did.
“Don’t worry about it,” the woman chuckled. “Us mothers gotta stick together, don’t we?”
“Thank you, thank you!” Amanda kissed her on the cheek, and danced away.
The whole way home, she kept one hand on the package, fingers peeling the cellophane open, sneaking inside to rub the unworn tights. She squeaked through three yellows rushing home, running one red that changed *just* before she entered the intersection.
“Hello~o!” She called out, tripping into the house on light feet. “Tom? I’m home!”
“In here,” he called out from the living room. Amanda poked her head in, and saw him laid out on the couch, watching TV, wearing a pair of grey gym shorts that ended above the knee and a soft blue wifebeater.