by Jack Crawford
He was a troubled young man sitting on a bench watching tourists as they gawked at the 'Old West' stores and sites in the historic area of old Ft. Worth. Yeah, the stockyards were vintage Texas, just as Billie Bob's was the place to hang out and listen to music while having a beer or three. Still, Bob Lee Jennings sat on the bench, shifting his gaze among the tourists until he finally found a local girl walking down the sidewalk.
He knew she was a local girl, not because of the boots she wore or the cowboy hat... tourists tended to load up on those things. Rather, he knew she was local because of the jeans she wore. They didn't have any fancy-dancy stitching or rhinestones covering her ass; in fact, she didn't even have pockets on the jeans. And, it was the lack of pockets that indicated the gal was a real, honest-to-goodness, local girl who had some ranch upbringing somewhere in her past.
Bob Lee watched her bottom as it undulated beneath the pocket-less jeans. Her bottom was athletically full, and swayed with the sensuality that would have been destroyed by east coast rhinestones or useless pockets. The denim was tight, yet soft, and every movement of her muscled bottom called out to Bob Lee. The young man struggled to remain seated on the bench as that mighty fine ass beckoned him.
He closed his eyes to that siren song, but his imagination filled his mind with the woman's swaying hips as the unfettered denim spoke to him: "Touch me!" said that voice. Screwing his eyes tighter to fight the image, he now imagined that same woman astride a horse, now a barrel rider and as she rose in her stirrups, her bottom lifted from the saddle and that soft, tight denim practically screamed at Bob Lee, "I'm here! Right here! Don't ignore me!"
He snapped his eyes open as he realized his imagination had him walking behind the woman, his hand reaching out to fondle the tight denim and the rippling female bottom it encased. Looking down he noticed his hands were actually flexing as if he really was fondling her bottom. With that realization, Bob Lee suddenly stood, silently scolding himself for letting his imagination run wild, and took off in the opposite direction in a brisk and purposeful stride.
Bob Lee Jennings had been raised just west of Ft. Worth, but had gone to college on the East coast. After earning a Master of Fine Arts Degree in Creative Writing, he had returned home to take a teaching position at a local community college. He taught English Literature and Composition classes with the idea that this would provide an income as well as plenty of time to work on 'The Great American Novel'. At this point, he earned a living but had yet to make any progress with his own writing.
The young man struggled to develop an idea for his novel, but his creative juices always flowed in one direction: the suggestive sway and allure of female bottoms in tight jeans... especially those pocket-less jeans the cowgirls all favored. He found himself spending late evenings and weekends on Exchange Street, sitting on the same bench for hours just watching the women walk by. His heart always skipped a beat when a real local gal sashayed by, her bottom impossibly poured into the tight denim, and swaying as it called out for Bob Lee's immediate attention.
His selection of bench was no accident. It was across the street from Padilla's, generally known as the finest boot store in town, and one that Bob Lee's mama had taken him and his three older sisters to for their first boots and all the boots they bought until the kids started buying their own clothes. Bob Lee bought his last pair of Tony Lamas at Padilla's and he knew all three sisters still shopped there as well. Mrs. Padilla ran the store even after her husband passed on a decade ago and was a friend of Bob Lee's mama... heck, she seemed to be friends with everyone's mother!
Because of the authentic boots sold at Padilla's, Bob Lee had instinctively selected that bench to sit and gaze at the fabulous female forms that went in and out of the store.
His focus returned, Bob Lee wandered back to the bench and sat down. He told himself that he was using this time to create ideas for his novel, and he really did try to concentrate on that task. Unfortunately, those female butts in tight denim jeans just continued calling out to him and his attention was soon riveted, once again, on some wildly wriggling bottom and the tight jeans that held it all together.
And then it happened without a thought. Like a thunderbolt thrown by Zeus, Bob Lee was struck by the most incredible image he had seen over the last few weeks. The woman was probably in her early 30's, tall with a luxurious mane of jet black hair. He had noticed her tight western shirt and how it was barely able to contain a set of impressive breasts that struggled to be free of the bra as well. But it was the form-fitting jeans that captured his attention and even caused him to stand up and catch his breath.
The jeans were classic, no pockets denim that grabbed and hugged every nuance of her marvelously well-sculpted bottom. The jeans were a bit unusual, though, in that they were very low rise; and the fact that the woman's western shirt tails had been tied up to display her midriff, accented just how low slung on her hips the jeans fell. It was probably the top of the thong that was clearly visible above the jeans and below the shirt that had pushed Bob Lee's buttons. The woman turned and stepped into Padilla's and Bob Lee knew... he knew... what he had to do.
He suddenly bolted across the street and entered Padilla's store and quickly scanned the floor for the woman and her bottom that was still singing to him. Just as he picked her up two aisles over, the familiar scent of the store overwhelmed him. The rich smells of leather enveloped his imagination just as the sight of the woman's rolling bottom had grabbed his head by the ears and shook him.
He had no idea what he was going to do... or even that he was actually doing anything at all. Casually, he worked his way nearer the woman, and he audibly gasped as he turned at the end of the aisle to see the woman bent over, checking out the boot boxes near the floor. Her magnificent bottom was pointed right at him, the top of the thong even more visible, and Bob Lee thought for a moment that he could actually see her bottom pulsating as blood flowed through the muscles.
Without thinking about what he was doing, Bob Lee walked past the woman and, even as she was still bent over, he let his hand casually roam over the well-bent and tensed backside. "Excuse me," he muttered as the woman gave him a suspicious look. Still, it had come across as an accident, and she said nothing.
But Bob Lee was almost delirious with desire. That casual caress of the heavenly bottom was like catnip to a cat; Bob Lee just had to have another fondle. He imagined his hand was warm from the touch, and he stared down at it to make sure it was alright. But, what to do now? How was he going to get another touch?
Wandering down nearby aisles, he kept a close eye on the goddess with the heavenly bottom. There was nothing, and no one, else that occupied Bob Lee's conscious thoughts. He was focused and was now a man on a mission.
Then the opportunity came and he pounced on it! Once again the woman was bent over as she fiddled with a pair of boots, and Bob Lee had a sudden vision of how to take advantage. He quickly came up the aisle from behind the woman and then 'tripped' on a boot box. As he fell, he put both hands out to catch himself, but all he caught was two hands of womanly bottom cheeks. He fell harder than he had planned and knocked the woman and an end cap display to the floor.
"I'm so sorry," he muttered as he tried to get up. The woman had managed to stand before he could get up and she planted a foot in the middle of Bob Lee's back and shoved him back to the floor.
"Where is the manager?" the lady asked in a loud voice and if that question didn't make Bob Lee quiver, the responding voice did.
"I am Estelle Padilla," said the store's owner. "I saw you tumble. Are you alright?"
"Yes, I am fine," snapped the indignant woman. "But I want to call the police. This man has been stalking me since I entered this store and he has twice - TWICE - fondled my behind."
Mrs. Padilla looked down and Bob Lee did not have to see her face to know that she quickly recognized him. "I'll handle this Miss," said Mrs. Padilla. "Let me escort him to the back so I might have a word with him, and then you."
The woman huffed, but lifted her foot and stepped back. Bob Lee stood and could no longer even force himself to look at the woman, and he did not want to look at Mrs. Padilla either.
"This way, young man," the store owner said as she firmly escorted him to the back and into her office. Pointing to a chair opposite her desk, the store owner said, "You sit down and wait for me, Bob Lee Jennings. And don't even think about leaving because I'll just get your mother involved." With that, Mrs. Padilla left and Bob Lee sat down and began to curse himself and his miserable luck.
Estelle Padilla was an earnest Mexican-American woman in her mid-50's. She was short in stature at only four inches over five feet tall, and she had kept her weight in check so she was still a trim woman. Despite her height, she was a dynamic ball of energy and not someone to mess with. Bob Lee knew this, but his thoughts all went back to his predicament, thinking how his mama would kill him when she found out.
Even though Bob Lee lived on his own, he knew his mother would not hesitate to tan his hide, and if his older sisters were around, they'd get involved as well. The thought made Bob Lee shudder and curse himself for the hundredth time since he had been escorted back to this office.
Finally, Mrs. Padilla returned to her office and as Bob Lee started to utter an excuse or an apology, the fiery woman held up a hand and gave the young man an icy glare. "I will do the talking," she said, adding, "and you will do the listening until I ask you to say something." She sat down behind her desk and fixed Bob Lee with a determined look.
"I saw you the minute you came into the store, Bob Lee," began the diminutive owner. "I watched you circle and stalk that woman, and I am certain it is all documented on our security cameras." This brought a huge blush to the young man's face. "I don't want to call the police. That would ruin your new career. I'm sure the college would not keep you on after this. I suspect that the best thing for me to do is to call your mother and let her handle this."
Bob Lee's eyes widened in shock, and he almost started to beg Mrs. Padilla not to call his mother, but he stopped himself before his mouth took off without his brain.
"I see you don't want that either, Bob Lee, so be honest with me and don't try to bullshit me. What would your mother do to you if I called her?"
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