Booty Shorts

Hello, and welcome to another edition of Booty Shorts, my series of stand alone stories. This one is especially short (in more ways than one) so chew slowly in order to savor.

Short Girl Problems~~~Sunday

Short Girl Problems

~~~

Sunday

Allison puffed a lock of her long, curly red hair off her forehead in frustration after her second attempt to reach the bottle. She could barely brush the sides with her fingertips. Even if she managed to slide it off the shelf, she didn't have much confidence that she'd be able to catch it, and didn't want it to shatter on the linoleum. She certainly didn't need that kind of embarrassment. She looked up and down the aisle but didn't see anyone in a Whole Foods apron.

"Dang it," she muttered.

"Need a hand?"

The only other person in the aisle had apparently noticed her attempts reach the top shelf.

"I'm trying to reach that agave nectar. I don't know why they put it on the top shelf, it's so annoying."

The woman was tall, possibly a foot taller than Allison. As she reached for the bottle, Allison saw a logo for Misfits Coffee Co on her shirt.

"No, not that one. The organic brand."

"Oh, sorry, here you go." She handed the correct bottle to Allison, who set it on top of the huge pile of groceries in her cart. The woman was as thin as Allison was curvy. Her jet black hair was cut short with spiky bangs over her forehead, Allison's physical opposite in almost every way. The woman, who had one of the store's small baskets hanging from the crook of her elbow, looked down at Allison's push cart, which was filled to the brim.

"I hope you're hosting a dinner for a softball team," she said with a grin.

Allison smiled, her deep dimples showing.

"No, I'm setting up my new apartment. I just moved from Nashville and all my cupboards are bare." Her light drawl confirmed her Southern-ness.

"Really. You don't look like Mother Hubbard to me." The woman's crystal blue eyes twinkled as Allison giggled. "What brings you to Minneapolis?"

"This and that. Work mostly. I've been a traveling physical therapist for a few years and I'm ready to settle in one place. I'm starting at Action PT next week, full time gig."

"Oh, nice. That's next to my gym."

"How is that place? I need to find a gym once I get settled. That one's high on my list to try out since it's next to my work.

"It's really nice. They cater to women, so there aren't any bros flexing in the mirrors or mansplaining the equipment to me."

"Well, heck, I'm sold. I'll check it out this week."

"Maybe I'll see you there. Gotta run though."

"Thank you for your help!" Allison called after her as she walked away. A cheery over-the-shoulder wave was the only response.

Wednesday

Wednesday

"Unf!" Allison grunted, finishing her first set of lat pulldowns. She stood to let the bar rise back up without slamming into the pulley. While Allison wasn't much for cardio, she'd been into weight training since she'd taken it as an elective class in college. She was almost at the end of her upper body day workout and her shoulders and arms were screaming.

I hope I don't have to do too much massage work today.

After a brief rest, she reached up to grab the bar then sat, pulling the cable out and raising the weights. She'd worked up to almost her body weight on this machine, so it was a struggle to get seated with her thighs under the roller to hold herself down.

"One, two, three..." she counted under her breath as she pulled the bar down behind her head to touch her shoulders. By the time she reached ten, her arms were quivering and as she stood to let the bar up, it slipped from her grip and the weights fell with a loud crash. She cringed, glancing around in embarrassment before breathlessly sitting back down to recover. She was just about ready to stand up and reach for the bar for her last set when a familiar voice came from behind her.

"Need a hand?"

Allison turned. It was the tall, dark haired woman from the supermarket.

"I can spot you."

Allison was again struck by their diametrically opposed looks, even their tastes in clothing. The woman was wearing sleek, black workout gear, while Allison's leggings and sports bra were a rainbow of pastel stripes and swirls.

"Oh, hi! Sure if you don't mind, that would be great."

"Sit, I'll pull it down for you."

Allison sat and tucked her thighs under the rollers. She took a small bit of pride at the grunt of effort the taller woman gave as she pulled the bar down so Allison could reach it. She focused, trying to get through the last set with as little quivering in her arms as possible.

"Ten!" she said on her last rep. The woman took the weight and let the bar up to the top with only a small crash.

"Thanks," Allison said with a huff.

"No problem," the woman said. "I feel like running into each other twice in one week deserves an introduction. I'm Michelle."

"Allison. And by running into each other you mean helping me out with short girl problems?"

"I guess it's nice being tall sometimes," Michelle said with a laugh.

"Thanks for the gym recommendation, by the way. This place is great, I signed up right after I took the tour! Today's my first workout since I joined."

"Glad you like it. Are you done? I'm hitting the sauna."

"Um, I've actually never been in a sauna. What's the draw? Heat and humidity are something to be avoided where I'm from."

"Wait until your first January here. Then a hundred-fifty degrees will sound like heaven. Anyway, I like to do a little extra sweating out of the toxins after a workout. Then I usually take a cool shower. It's a nice way to wrap up a workout.

"Well... okay, I can try it. It's off the locker room, right?"

"Right this way!"

They retired to the locker room. Allison turned left and headed toward the door markedsauna, but Michelle stopped her.

"You really don't want to go in there wearing anything. Just a towel is the norm."

"Gotcha."

They detoured to their lockers and traded their workout gear for towels. Upon opening the door, Allison balked as a cloud of steam roiled out and enveloped her.

"Holymolythat's hot!" she exclaimed as the wave of heat washed over them.

"Give it five minutes. If you hate it, I'll give you a card for a free coffee as an apology."

They entered and took up seats across from the single occupant, a woman in her fifties, enjoying the heat. Allison imagined the smell was as if the benches weren't actually close to bursting into flames, but the wood had started thinking about what would happen if things progressed a little further.

"Do you own a coffee shop? I remember your shirt from the grocery store," Allison said as they sat on the wooden bench, "Outcast Coffee or something?"

"Misfits. And no, it's not mine, I just work there. I'm the manager."

"It's not one of those that opens at five A.M., is it?"

"No, thank god. Eight to two, every day. Although I only work Monday through Friday."

"That would be so nice being off at two every day."

"It would be, if it paid the bills. I have to bartend a few nights a week too."

A comfortable silence fell over them. Allison fanned herself. She couldn't remember ever being so hot, but it was strangely enjoyable. Sweat poured off her, and she imagined her pores opening wide and emitting all the bad juju from her body.

The woman sitting across from them unashamedly dropped her towel to the bench. Allison inwardly shrugged. Being a physical therapist had long ago robbed her of any uncomfortable feelings about other people's bodies. A body was a body.

Or at least, that's what she thought, until Michelle dropped her towel too. She closed her eyes and tilted her head back, lifting her face to the ceiling to bask in the oppressive warmth. Allison suppressed a gasp.

Michelle's skin was glistening in the heat. She was toned. Allison had plenty of muscle definition in her small frame, but Michelle was built like a runner or gymnast. Allison tried not to stare, but found herself unable to take her eyes off a bead of sweat running down from Michelle's shoulder. The drop followed the curve of her breast, then continued down her stomach, picking up speed as it went, until it ran into the cleft of Michelle's--

"It's too hot for me," Allison said, recognizing that she'd spoken much too loudly. "I need to hit the shower anyway, I have a shift at the clinic in a few."

"Okay," Michelle said, not opening her eyes. "I'm going to hang a while longer."

"Thanks for the spot. Maybe I'll see you around again. Bye!" Again, too loudly.

She'd lied, she had an hour until her shift started and it was two doors down from the gym. She almost ran to the showers, stopping only to collect her small pouch of shower supplies.

The gym had private shower stalls, for which she was grateful. As soon as she was under the cascading spray, her hand found its way to her pussy. She closed her eyes, as the water plastered her hair to her skin and over her face, her finger slipping in between the folds of her lips. She was slick, and the fingers of one hand found their way easily into her pussy, with the fingers of the other rubbing her clit. She leaned back against the shower wall, heedless of the shockingly cold tile against her flushed skin. She stopped for a moment as she heard the water start in the stall next to hers, then continued stroking herself, making an extra effort to be silent

She hadn't told Michelle she was gay. There'd been no reason or opportunity to drop that into the short conversations they'd had. And she didn't have the best gaydar. There were no overt signs that Michelle would be interested, apart from maybe her haircut.

She also wanted some time to scope out the community before diving into dating. Or even hooking up. She only arrived in town a few days before, after being hired over a Zoom interview.

But Michelle's wasjusther type. Long and lean. Almost goth-y hair. She squeezed her lips shut to suppress a whimper at the memory of watching the journey of the drop of sweat.

Generally speaking, she didn't approve of people using public gym facilities to get off, either solo or with a partner. But she knew if she didn't she'd be thinking of nothing else her entire shift. And shereallydidn't want to be squirming with excitement while manipulating the leg of some sixty year old who'd thrown out her hip.

She gasped, then lifted her free hand to cover her mouth, as she stroked her fingers in and out of herself furiously. Her knees threatened to buckle as she came, and she bit her knuckle hard to avoid crying out.

She hadn't been lying. She really,reallyhoped she ran into Michelle again.

She stayed under the water for a long time trying to get a grip on herself.

Saturday

Saturday

"Dang it," Allison muttered as one of the plastic shopping bags ripped and unceremoniously dumped its contents onto the floor of the elevator, right as its doors opened onto the hallway of her new apartment building.

She reached into the hallway to set down the two cans of paint she'd been carrying in one hand, and leaned the new step-stool she'd had hooked over her elbow against the wall. Then she dropped to her knees, scrambling to pick up the contents of her bag before the doors tried to shut on her.

"Need a hand?" she heard behind her.

She straightened up without turning, a couple of brushes in one hand, a roll of painter's tape in the other.

"You havegotto be kidding me!" she said to the empty elevator then turned to look over her shoulder.

Michelle stood watching her, a grin on her face.

"Are you stalking me? That's it, isn't it? You're a stalker?"

"I live here, down that way, three-oh-four."

"Get out. I'm three hundred."

"I knew someone was moving in, but I certainly didn't know it was you. Nice you got that corner apartment. The corner units are the only ones with balconies."

The elevator started an angry buzzing, its doors having been propped open longer than it approved of. Allison turned to gather the rest of her bits and bobs.

"Here, let me help," Michelle said and stepped over her into the elevator, picking up handfuls of stir sticks, a package of roller covers and a drop cloth.

Together they managed to retrieve the rest of the scattered items and retreat from the elevator, which finally closed with a resentful ding.

"I'll help you carry your stuff down, but then I've got to run. The weekend manager has an emergency and I've got to go in and close for her,"

Michelle said.

"How long have you lived here?" Allison asked, picking up her paint cans and step-stool.

"Couple of years."

"Obviously you like it?"

"Well the apartments are tiny, and expensive, but we're right next to the Warehouse District. Being able to walk to everything is the best. Dining, grocery, work. Not having to have a car makes it more affordable."

"That's why I picked this place too! I'm thinking about selling my car and getting an e-bike."

Michelle laughed. "I have one, but it can be a little brutal when winter really sets in. Make sure you budget some money for Ubers."

"Good tip, thanks." Allison fished out her door key from the pocket of her shorts and unlocked her apartment.

"So what's all this stuff for anyway? Are you painting your apartment? You know you have to paint it back when you move out or you lose your deposit, right?"

"I know, but I don't do white walls. I need colors or I go crazy."

"Huh. Well better you than me, I hate painting. Anyhow, I'm sorry I gotta run. Welcome to the hallway!"

"Thanks! Maybe sometime you can show me the good happy hour places nearby."

"Sure, sounds fun!" Michelle called over her shoulder as she headed for the elevator.

A few hours later, Allison had painted eighty percent of her living room.

The long wall that ran from her front door to her balcony was a dark maroon, while the rest of the room was a light pink. However, now she was getting frustrated.

She'd done a pretty good job of cutting in the corners and along the baseboards, or at least she thought so, which was all that mattered for now. But she was having trouble with the edge next to the ceiling. She'd miscalculated at the store, thinking she could get away with buying the two-step stool for thirty dollars instead of the taller one for forty-five. But she could barely reach, having to stretch on her tip-toes to carefully paint up to the top of the wall without getting paint on the ceiling. She'd already slipped and gotten a big daub of maroon up there and knew it would drive her crazy until she could get a can of white to go over it.

The fumes were getting to her as well. She'd opened the slider to her balcony right after she started, as well as the window in her bedroom. But she wasn't getting enough draft to clear out the smell. Finally she propped her front door open with a paint can, hoping to get at least a tiny breeze through the apartment from the hallway.

She took a break to drain a can of grapefruit seltzer, then got back to work. After the third time she slipped and touched the ceiling with her brush her frustration boiled over.

"Dang it!"

"Need a hand?" She looked over to see Michelle standing in her door.

"You again!" Allison said, her smile putting the lie to the accusation. "How was closing?"

"Much the same as every other day. I smell like coffee, but only two hour's worth today. Need some help?" She gestured at the ceiling.

"Is that a hobby for you? Fixing short girl problems?"

"When I see problems that need fixing... You're quick to call it that, I guess I can get away with asking, how tall are you?"

Allison stood a little straighter and put her hands on her hips.

"I'm four foot ten!" Left unspoken, wasyou gonna make something of it?

"Tiny but mighty, I see."

"Since you asked me, how tall are you, stretch?"

"Five eleven and a half."

"Why don't you just say six feet?"

"I'm too honest. So do you want help or no? If yes, I'll go change into some grubby clothes."

Allison looked at the ceiling, then her step-stool, then the ceiling, the her step-stool, then Michelle.

"Tell you what, if you help me finish, I'll buy us a pizza from the place on the corner. And I have two bottles of Chardonnay in the fridge."

"Let me go change!"

"What do you want on your half? I'll place an online order for delivery."

"Veggie," Michelle called over her shoulder and disappeared down the hall.

"Veggie? Yeeee-uck," Allison muttered to the empty apartment as she looked around for her phone.

"Looks great!" Michelle said a couple hours later as they stood in the middle of the room admiring their handiwork.

"It really does! Thanks so much for your help."

"Glad I could help fix your short girl problems. Again. Seriously though, welcome to the neighborhood. I'm sure someday I'll think of something for you to help me fix in my place. Maybe you can help rearrange my furniture. I'm taller than you but you're stronger than me."

"What makes you say that?"

"I saw you lifting, remember? You were there. Plus I have eyes. Look at those guns." She poked Allison in the bicep.

Allison flexed her arm. She noticed Michelle's eyes widen a little.

"It helps to have a little muscle when I'm working with an unsteady client who's twice my size and I have to keep them upright."

"You've also got painteverywhereon you," Michelle said. She poked Allison's arm again, this time to point out a splotch of maroon. "And here, here... here," she touched Allison's shoulder, the back of her hand, then brushed the side of her face with a finger.

Allison self consciously scrubbed her cheek.

"At least tell me it's dusky rose and not dessert wine."

"Paint color names are so weird. It's pink."

Just then the pizza guy knocked on the open door. Allison signed for it and brought the box into the kitchen, getting two plates out of the cabinet.

"Do you want to shower before we eat?" Michelle asked.

Allison looked Michelle up and down with a fake sour look.

"For someone who hates to paint, you managed to not get a speck on you. How does that happen?"

"Clean living. Shower, yes or no?"

"Me hungry. No shower, eat food!"

"Okay, but remember Frankenstein was the doctor, not the monster. Should we go to my place? It smells like paint in here."

"No, then Iwouldhave to shower or be worried about getting paint on your stuff. Let's eat on my balcony. Serve us up a couple of slices and I'll crack open a bottle of wine. I haven't unpacked my wine glasses yet so you'll have to settle for regular drinking glasses."

"Perfect, we'll have to get up less often to--hang on a minute."

Allison looked over to where Michelle had flipped open the lid of the pizza box and was frowning down at their pie in disapproval.

"What?"

"This is a hate crime."

"What, did they mess up our order?"

"They'd better have. Pineapple doesn't belong on pizza."

"Oh shut up, you ordered a salad on dough. You aren't allowed to complain about my half."

"Fine as long as you understand I'm going to snark about this on TikTok later."

By the time they'd polished off the last of the pizza and the first bottle of wine, the sun had set over the city. Michelle stretched, then put her feet up on the railing. Allison lifted a foot up. She came a foot short of being able to touch the railing with her toes.

"Show off," Allison grumped.

"Sorry, blame mom and dad."

"Fair enough."

"So, what's 'this and that'?"

"Huh?" Allison immediately regretted the dumb utterance. She'd been trying to elevate her banter game.

"When we met at the grocery, you said that workmostlybrought you here, but there was some 'this and that' involved. You running from something?"