His name is Chad. I know because his red nametag said so in big white letters. He has bright green eyes and pale blond hair. He has a voice that is busted glass and gravel. He watches me when I shop. Lately, I shop a lot.
Each trip is a chance to feel that sizzle of excitment. Each trip for a forgotten item; milk, butter, eggs, vanilla extract, the list goes on, is a chance to get a fix.
I like the way his eyes seem to pin me in place. I like the way my heart races and my eyes dart down to the floor. I am not shy in the least–normally. But when he looks at me with those eyes, I feel like I should get on my knees. And I like that feeling.
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