Love in the Meat Department

There was a low patchy fog in the little horse pasture near where I live the other day.  The scene was so pretty, it made me think of having sex.  Unfortunately, I was alone in the car, eating my cereal with my hands and driving with my knee, so I had to hold that thought for later.

Here’s a little tune I like to call:

Love in the Meat Department

She walked into the produce section like a kid heading into a candy store.  Her long black ponytail flying, she threw grapes, bananas, pineapples, and onions in her cart with wild abandon, barely glancing at them.  She stopped to smell oranges, paw apples, inhale deeply of muskmelons and cantaloupes, peaches and yams.  Two heads of lettuce, one of cabbage, two packages of baby carrots, a bag of potatoes, some celery and raisins and peanuts all disappeared into her cart.  She smiled at old ladies and beamed “Hello” at every little kid she passed by.  Men looked, and looked again, some raised their eyebrows a little, some nodded; she nodded back but didn’t say hi.

He was in the meat section; he’d picked up his bananas, some grapes, some canned vegetables, several cans of soup, some macaroni and cheese, a bag of chips, and some juice boxes.  He had gotten a sample of pork chops from one lady and a piece of breaded fish from another; he was thinking of buying some chicken.  He said “excuse me” to old ladies and hi to a toddler who waved a teddy bear at him.

They reached for the whole chicken at the same time; their eyes met, they both said “Sorry”, smiled and laughed one quick syllable “hmm” each.

“Please, it’s all yours,” he said.

“No, be my guest.”  They both chuckled again.

He picked up the chicken next to it, and two more–they were on sale.  She put their shared one into her cart and grabbed another; they both laughed some more.

“I’m lazy; I throw mine in the crockpot in the morning, throw a little cream of chicken soup in with it, maybe a little poultry seasoning,” he told her as they both moved into the dairy section.

“Actually I do that too if I get in a hurry, but I like to bake it if I have time after work, with some rice, onions and carrots,” she answered.  “Mary,” she said as she extended her hand.

“Joe–nice to meet you, Mary.”  He noticed that her hand was small but strong; he didn’t feel like he was nearly crushing a small bird, like he felt when shaking some women’s hands.

They both moved on; he bought juice concentrate, hot dogs, and cheese; she bought eggs, yogurt and string cheese.

At the checkouts, they were in adjacent aisles.  As they were exiting the store, their carts nearly bumped; they both laughed some more.

“We’ve got to stop meeting like this,” she said.  “Your wife will start to wonder.”

“Nobody to worry about here,” he laughed.  “But your husband might not be too pleased.”

“I’m cooking for one; I freeze a lot of food for later,” was her cheery reply.  “It would be nice to cook for someone else a little more often than I do.”  Their eyes lingered on each other for a long moment in the entryway; people were going around them.

“If that’s an invitation, I most definitely accept.”  They both laughed again.

“Here’s my number,” she said, as she pulled a scrap of paper from her purse and wrote down her cell number.  “Are you free on Tuesday?”

“I am now,” Joe laughed.  She did too.  They shook hands again; they didn’t let go of each other’s hands for a long time.

From then until Tuesday, they both thought of their meeting in the grocery store several times; it never failed to bring a smile to their faces.  Joe called her on Monday to get instructions to her little house; Mary told him when supper would be ready and got his number also.

Tuesday finally came; Joe easily found her place.  He had remodeled a couple houses in her neighborhood before, so he was familiar with the maze of “tree streets.”  Cedar Place was a cul-de-sac off of Conifer Lane.  Her house looked like it was about ten years older than most of the houses in the neighborhood, yet hers was somehow the nicest, freshest-looking one in the neighborhood.  It had a small garage and lots of flowers.

He rang her doorbell; she was wearing a summer dress and smelled like lilacs.  He handed her a single red rose, wrapped in paper from the same grocery store.  She beamed, blushed a little, thanked him, and found a vase under the sink.  “There’s a bottle of wine in the fridge, and some glasses on the counter beside it.  Would you mind pouring?”

“Love to,” he said.  He picked up the corkscrew, managed to get the bottle open and pour them each a glass.  “Your place is beautiful.”

“I’ve always loved to grow things and make the place look beautiful; Fred loved to remodel the house and diddle his secretaries.”

Joe nearly choked on his wine; they both laughed heartily.  “What was he thinking?  His secretaries couldn’t have possibly matched up to you.”  They both blushed.

“Turns out that neither one of us married our ideal type; he didn’t know that he liked generic big-breasted blondes till they started working for him.  I didn’t know that cheating morons were such a turnoff for me, until after I married one.”

“My wife and I just slowly drifted apart,” said Joe.  “I just don’t think we were ever meant to be together.”

They looked at each other for a long moment.  She broke it by saying “I believe our supper’s ready.”

“Well, where did I leave that pot holder,” she cried out as she opened the oven door.  He took his eyes off her trim figure long enough to grab it from the counter on the other side of the stove, took the pan from the oven, and set it on the counter as she held the oven door for him.  “Thanks,” said Mary as she turned directly toward him and took the pot holder from him.  Their eyes met; he put his hands on both her arms, they looked into each other’s eyes.  He let go of her arms and turned toward his wine glass.  She grabbed both his arms and guided them toward her waist.  He held her in his arms, she put her arms around his shoulders, and they leaned their faces into each other and kissed deeply.  They pulled away long enough to look at each other again, then they embraced deeply.  He savored the fresh smell of her hair as she felt the strength in his arms and back.

“Say, I need to show you something upstairs before we eat,” she managed to stammer out.

“Okay,” he choked out as he let her guide him up the sweeping staircase.  She led him to her room at the top of the stairs; it smelled like lilacs.  “I got rid of our old bed after I caught him and blonde bimbo #2 using it as a trampoline.”

They kissed for a long time; he ran his hands up and down her sides.  She pulled his shirt out of his pants and started to unbutton him, slowly.  He put one hand on her thigh and the other on her butt; she started to moan softly and pulled his head to hers, nearly swallowing his lips.  He began to rub her through her dress; she reached down and guided his hand under her dress, over the top of her panties, and inside her.

The next two hours were a jumble of clothes, sheets, flesh, hands, mouths, arms and legs.  She shuddered and came first, after a few minutes of furious coupling; he followed immediately.  They kissed slowly for a couple minutes; she rolled over on top of him; they moved together slowly for a long time until they both climaxed together.

After eating a cold supper and drinking a second glass of wine, Joe smiled and said, “Well at least we’re taking it slowly.”

Mary laughed and turned her face towards him again.  “I think we both know a good thing when we see one.”


(Readers, would you like a little “alternate” add-on ending, so that this wasn’t just a slightly smutty romance story? If so, choose from Option A or B:)


After she kissed him goodbye and watched him drive off, she put his wine glass in the sink, got out another and filled her glass and the fresh one.  She took them to the living room sofa, sat them on the end table and pulled out her cell.  She texted just one word: “Thirsty?”, set the phone down, and tucked her legs under her.  A Jennifer Connelly lookalike, wearing only a lace teddy, came flowing down the stairs, holding a camcorder, and rubbing her neck.

“My, it’s cramped in that closet.  I didn’t think you two were ever coming up for air”, said “Jennifer”, as she bent down to plant a long deep kiss on Mary’s lips.  “I hope you’re not worn out; I plan to keep you up all night watching this video.”

Mary pulled her down to the couch, and sighed, “I’m not going in to work tomorrow, are you?”



Joe yawned and stretched, saying, “Wow, I’m starting to get really tired; you sure wore me out.  I guess I’d better be going.”

Mary rose and took his hand.  “Just one slow dance before you take off.”  She led him slowly around the kitchen; he was tireder by the second, it seemed.  As they got right next to the open basement door, he said, “Wow, that’s a steep old (big yawn), I don’t feel so good,….  basement stairs.”  Just as he became dead weight on her shoulder, she effortlessly turned his back to the open stairway, extricated herself from his arms, and gave him a little shove.  As he tumbled down into the blackness, she smiled and thought to herself, “I’m so glad I never let Fred cement over that little dirt patch by the sump pump.”  “Now Joe can keep him company”, she said to herself as she carefully washed out Joe’s glass.

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