Grab a quick hot dog

You decide to give into your hunger and join the short queue at the hot dog cart. You take a moment and study the menu, written on a small whiteboard stuck to the side of the cart. Do hot dog vendors really need a menu? you think as you read the sign. He's got hot dogs, sausages... yep, that's it.

As you wait, the woman in front of you fiddles with her phone while shifting in place. It seems she might be texting someone, and is either agitated or a little annoyed by the exchange. As she fidgets in line, you notice a nice shake to her ass, and in spite of yourself you find that you're checking her out. Bearing in mind that you're only getting the back view right now, you surmise that she's probably somewhat older than you. You wouldn't be too confident in your assessment, but you bet she's probably around 40. Her ass is nicely round and looks very tight and shapely for a woman pushing 40, and even in her worn, generic blue jeans it looks pretty good. Your eyes move upwards to her long, dark hair, resting just above her trim waistline. There is just a touch of grey, betraying her age, and her dark hair stands out against the simple, pale blue top she wears. As if she could feel you staring, the woman slips her phone into her purse and turns to face you.

"Would you believe that idiot forgot the picnic basket again?" she groans to you, as if you would know who she's talking about. "Seems like every time we come here."

She has a scowl on her face as she rants, but even so you can tell that, while your guess of her middle-age was probably correct, she does have quite a pretty face, even in her current unpleasant state. You take a quick glance at the rest of her figure. She has a shapely, gently-curved set of hips to complement the tight ass you were just ogling. They might look even nicer in tighter clothes, and probably better still in none at all. Her most obviously alluring feature, however, is definitely her large, round breasts, big enough that they almost look out of place on a trim, slender woman, and definitely perkier than you would expect from a woman her age. Either those aren't real, you muse. Or she has a really, really good bra.

"Sorry?" you sputter, not sure if you're apologizing on this unknown man's behalf or for not knowing who she's talking about. From context you guess she is either talking about an inconsiderate son or a forgetful husband.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I'm ranting again," she says, her scowl softening. "I'm here for a picnic with my_ _brother and his kids. We do this every now and then, and every time we come here, he 'forgets' to bring the picnic basket, the kids get upset, and dear 'Auntie Mara' has to go and buy everyone hot dogs."

Her annoyed expression returns. You've known guys like that before, conveniently forgetting things whenever they know someone else will pick up their slack. Not always pleasant people to deal with, but not necessarily something you'd get worked up about.

"And I don't know why, but every time he does this, every fucking time, I'm the one walking halfway across the goddamn park to get the motherfucking hot dogs. And then I have to pay, too!"

She continues ranting, not allowing you to get a word in edgewise. She continues ranting about the perceived faults of her brother as if you not only know who she's talking about but also sympathize with her situation.

"He's lucky I really love those kids of his," she finally sighs. "Or I wouldn't even keep going on these picnics and putting up with his crap. At least his bitch of a wife never comes."

You're expecting her to launch into another rant, this time about this wife, who you're also pretty confident you've never met. She's interrupted, however, as the hot dog vendor calls to her for her order. She tells him she needs twelve hot dogs, which he starts putting together. He looks in your direction and you order just one.

"Your friend is very loud," the vendor says to you quietly. "I don't see a lot of women here who talk that way. Or that much."

"You're telling me," you reply, not really wanting to get into the fact that you don't know this woman, and you were just the unlucky sap who happened to be next to her in line.

"She's pretty hot, though," he opines, leaning closer to you. "Really, really nice chest."

"What did you just say?" she asks, raising an angry eyebrow.

"I said these wieners are very hot," the vendor replies. "And that they'll be the best!"

He hands her the first few hot dogs while the others finish cooking, She steps over to the end of his cart and starts dressing the food with a variety of condiments. You smirk at the cook's quick-thinking reply.

"At the risk of being crude, you should see her from the back," you whisper. "Her ass looks pretty tight."

She glares at you accusingly.

"I said he makes the food that keeps you coming back," you say. "It's good, every bite."

You aren't sure if she bought that, but all she does is shake her head and go back to dressing her food. As the vendor hands her the last hot dog, she hands him his money then somehow manages to stack all twelve buns in such a way that she can carry them fairly easily. You think to yourself how she's probably pretty good at handling other kinds of sausages too. She starts to leave without another word.

"I'm not sure if it's the attitude or that ass," the hot dog vendor says to you. "But a woman like that always looks best when she's walking away."

You laugh as he hands you your hot dog. You bid him a good day as you walk off, munching on your delicious, convenient snack. Finally you leave the park, hop in your car and head home. Reflecting on your afternoon, you feel like you actually had a decent day: you had a nice stroll around the park, had a bit of time to yourself to think, and had a pretty good bite to eat. Sure, you had to listen to the growling of an angry cougar, but on the other hand, at least she gave you something nice to look at. You return home feeling fairly satisfied with your day.