Hot Shop
I recently went shopping with a man who shopped in a way that made me hot.
I had never been turned-on - or even considered it was possible - by the way a man shopped.
Having spent my formative years with a father who would rather wear pink underwear from his bad laundry sorting than actually buy some new tighty whities, my understanding of men and shopping was that men avoided it as much as possible.
Even working for Nordstrom years ago in the ladies shoe dept, I would sometimes stray over to the men's departments and help the husbands of my customers. I was amazed by the short decision process - generally only putting on a left shoe, stomping it once on the ground, and then taking the $400 Ferragamos in both brown and black. Buying shirts merely by looking at the size on the label, choosing pants by their waist and length, and stocking up on socks like they were frozen meals.
Men just wanted it to be done. This wasn't something to be savored - it was wham bam, I'm out of this damn store ma'am.
Until I came across a man I will call Mr. X. - an event I will relay in a short story, that hopefully I can edit and submit to Penthouse:
The Hot Mr. X
Mr. X was a sharp dresser. I can't even begin to count the number of fantasies I had about him getting dressed. The detail that I knew went into choosing his belt, his shoes, and even whether or not to tuck his shirt, kept me awake at night just picturing him in his bedroom getting ready in the morning.
People don't realize how hard it is to look good. Though he made it look easy, it was definitely something he worked at. Hard.
Each week, he'd come in with at least one new item, effortlessly worked into some ensemble. I enviously thought of those fortunate retail workers who got to help him.
But then it happened. He asked me to go shopping with him. I hadn't planned on ever going shopping with him. He didn't seem the type who would shop with another, much less me. But that night fate had other plans for us. Mr. X wanted to buy a few items at the mall and he wanted me to join him. Always one for adventure, I agreed. This was going to be a night I would not soon forget and I was damn glad I had on my good underwear.
I met him at the mall and watched him as he browsed the store. His fingers traced the fabric as one might trace the small of a woman's back. His lips were parted in anticipation of good a find. His eyes scanned the store as a man might scan your body.
Watching him made me unable to do my own shopping.
He saw the look on my face and smiled. It was time to go. He knew that this place was not going to meet his needs. Grabbing my hand, we moved fast to the next retail position in the mall. I could barely keep up with him, he was so fast, and so intent on hitting that next retail venue.
As we came to this new place, his eyes darted around until his eyes slid onto the one thing he wanted. He grabbed it in a decisive move and he made his way up the register. Suddenly he stopped, halted by another lustrous item which caught his eye. Surely he couldn't be wanting both. But as he made the salesperson wait, he silently gazed at the shirt, never even asking my opinion, and I knew he would take them both.
I pretended to feign indifference, but I watched him out of the corner of my eye. His fingers reached down and grasped the label, checking the size. Without ever seeing the cost, he tossed it on the counter with his original conquest, handing the credit card over without ever missing a beat. He had found what he wanted, and it was now his.
We departed the store, his passion now sated by the recent purchase, and he offered to drive me to my car. I hesitated, not knowing if I could be alone with a man that shopped so well, but I finally gave in, wanting to test my resolve.
We left the parking structure and we pulled up to my car. His shopping done, he now seemed tired. I wanted to say something. But as our eyes met saying our goodbyes, we both knew there was nothing more to say.
I got out of his car, silently mouthed, "I love you", and watched him zoom into the distance, the high-end retail bag still outlined in his backseat.
I found it hard to stand; this was a man who didn't even wait for a sale.
He was the real deal, a real shopper, the hot Mr. X.
I had never been turned-on - or even considered it was possible - by the way a man shopped.
Having spent my formative years with a father who would rather wear pink underwear from his bad laundry sorting than actually buy some new tighty whities, my understanding of men and shopping was that men avoided it as much as possible.
Even working for Nordstrom years ago in the ladies shoe dept, I would sometimes stray over to the men's departments and help the husbands of my customers. I was amazed by the short decision process - generally only putting on a left shoe, stomping it once on the ground, and then taking the $400 Ferragamos in both brown and black. Buying shirts merely by looking at the size on the label, choosing pants by their waist and length, and stocking up on socks like they were frozen meals.
Men just wanted it to be done. This wasn't something to be savored - it was wham bam, I'm out of this damn store ma'am.
Until I came across a man I will call Mr. X. - an event I will relay in a short story, that hopefully I can edit and submit to Penthouse:
The Hot Mr. X
Mr. X was a sharp dresser. I can't even begin to count the number of fantasies I had about him getting dressed. The detail that I knew went into choosing his belt, his shoes, and even whether or not to tuck his shirt, kept me awake at night just picturing him in his bedroom getting ready in the morning.
People don't realize how hard it is to look good. Though he made it look easy, it was definitely something he worked at. Hard.
Each week, he'd come in with at least one new item, effortlessly worked into some ensemble. I enviously thought of those fortunate retail workers who got to help him.
But then it happened. He asked me to go shopping with him. I hadn't planned on ever going shopping with him. He didn't seem the type who would shop with another, much less me. But that night fate had other plans for us. Mr. X wanted to buy a few items at the mall and he wanted me to join him. Always one for adventure, I agreed. This was going to be a night I would not soon forget and I was damn glad I had on my good underwear.
I met him at the mall and watched him as he browsed the store. His fingers traced the fabric as one might trace the small of a woman's back. His lips were parted in anticipation of good a find. His eyes scanned the store as a man might scan your body.
Watching him made me unable to do my own shopping.
He saw the look on my face and smiled. It was time to go. He knew that this place was not going to meet his needs. Grabbing my hand, we moved fast to the next retail position in the mall. I could barely keep up with him, he was so fast, and so intent on hitting that next retail venue.
As we came to this new place, his eyes darted around until his eyes slid onto the one thing he wanted. He grabbed it in a decisive move and he made his way up the register. Suddenly he stopped, halted by another lustrous item which caught his eye. Surely he couldn't be wanting both. But as he made the salesperson wait, he silently gazed at the shirt, never even asking my opinion, and I knew he would take them both.
I pretended to feign indifference, but I watched him out of the corner of my eye. His fingers reached down and grasped the label, checking the size. Without ever seeing the cost, he tossed it on the counter with his original conquest, handing the credit card over without ever missing a beat. He had found what he wanted, and it was now his.
We departed the store, his passion now sated by the recent purchase, and he offered to drive me to my car. I hesitated, not knowing if I could be alone with a man that shopped so well, but I finally gave in, wanting to test my resolve.
We left the parking structure and we pulled up to my car. His shopping done, he now seemed tired. I wanted to say something. But as our eyes met saying our goodbyes, we both knew there was nothing more to say.
I got out of his car, silently mouthed, "I love you", and watched him zoom into the distance, the high-end retail bag still outlined in his backseat.
I found it hard to stand; this was a man who didn't even wait for a sale.
He was the real deal, a real shopper, the hot Mr. X.
posted by Ashley at 10:49 AM
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