I tell ya, if I didn't have the pictures, I wouldn't believe me either. Things like that just don't happen to middle-aged schlubs like me. But it did, and I've got the proof.
It was a week ago Saturday. Laura wanted to go to the mall. Specifically, she wanted to go clothes shopping. For both of us.
Now I've gotta admit, that wasn't entirely a bad idea. All that working out last spring meant that my pants were a bit loose. Well, maybe not that loose, but I'd ripped my best pair of Dockers changing a tire about three weeks back. Laura had told me to call AAA, but what kind of man can't change a tire? I may not be a young stud anymore, but I'm not helpless. So I needed pants, and maybe a shirt or two, and of course I hadn't been to the bookstore in ages….
The problem was, Laura's own list was huge. I didn't discover this small fact until we were at the mall, of course, when she started rattling it off. A new dress. A skirt. A blouse. Shoes of two different types. A dozen other things.
Anyway, you know what those trips are like. I had my stuff in half an hour, and then spent the rest of the day trailing her around, holding her purse while she tried stuff on. And then holding her bags. And then more bags.
Of course, when I suggested that maybe I should go check out the bookstore and then meet her in the food court, well, she said she just had to get my opinion. Ha! Like she asked for it more than twice. She'd gather up enough clothes to outfit an army and find a clerk to hustle her into a dressing room. Then, after a wait that made eternity look like a short church sermon, she'd come out claiming none looked right. Or she'd declare one was perfect and ask for my credit card. Buyer and bearer, I knew my role.
That role didn't change through three department stores, six boutiques, and four shoe stores. Just when I thought we were finally done, we strolled by Victoria's Secret.
“Oh,” Laura said, “I need to get some new bras. Let's go inside.”
Now if the phrase “new bras” doesn't strike fear into you, you haven't been alive long enough. Nothing is worse than bra shopping with a woman. Particularly a middle-aged woman who, well, let's just say she's not going to be a threat to Elle Macpherson anytime soon. Yeah, when you're a young guy, it sounds sexy. But as an old guy, ya know better. This bra doesn't fit right. That one pinches. That style doesn't flatter her. The lace on this one is too scratchy. “Sexy” is trampled under a herd of little complaints, none of which can escape your ears.
But as a dutiful husband, I knew the magic words: “Yes, dear.” So I was soon standing outside of yet another hall to the changing rooms.
This time, I was grateful for all the packages. One look and it was clear I wasn't a perv trying to peek at women as they changed. Only a husband would have sacks surrounding his feet as he leaned against the wall. I not only looked nonchalant, I even managed to look bored.
Of course, I wasn't entirely bored. I may be fifty-four, but I've still got a pulse, and there were a couple of fine ladies in that store. One clerk wore a tight skirt and clingy blouse, which I'm sure helped her sales. Two of the women customers weren't bad either.
The younger of the two caught my eye. Slim with dark hair, she wore a skirt barely too long to be called a mini. I watched as she sashayed from rack to rack, pulling off teddies and cammies and holding them up for her boyfriend. He was a delinquent if I ever saw one, in his baggy pants and torn concert T-shirt. He'd grunt and then look nervously around, as if it had somehow become a crime to stand in a store. She'd giggle and move onto the next rack, wending her way past bra displays and tables of panties. Caught in her tow, he kept glancing back toward the entrance, as if worried his mother might suddenly appear.
Who did appear was the attractive clerk. Knifing through the store, she intercepted the young couple about ten feet away from me, doing the polite but firm inquiry, “Do you need any assistance?”
The guy hung his head, but the girl yanked two teddies off a nearby rack, said something I didn't hear, and looked my way. Well, toward the changing rooms, really, but the way her eyes widened when she saw me, it took me a second to figure it out. Particularly when she grinned, her pearly whites flashing brilliant across the room.
The clerk led them over, brandishing her dressing room key. The brunette raised her eyebrows in a silent “hello” as they passed me. At a scowl from the clerk, the boyfriend peeled off and assumed a station leaning on the opposite wall. The clerk unlocked a dressing room and the brunette disappeared inside.
The boyfriend, well, he nervously watched the clerk return to the main store, but then his eyes focused back on the dressing room. He stared, really, which couldn't help but raise my curiosity. I shifted so I could follow his gaze, doing my best not to rustle the packages at my feet. It didn't matter because he didn't seem to care. He just continued to crane his head, like a dog waiting for his master's return.
For which he was rewarded. The changing room door slowly opened. Then the brunette's head poked around the corner. She looked a question at him, but he just froze. Then he tore his gaze away from her to look into the main store.
Which meant he missed it. I, thank God, did not. The brunette stepped half out of the dressing room, fully nude. She put her hand on her hip, scowling at her boyfriend.
I sucked in my breath. True, I could only see one breast, but it was a beaut. Firm and high, with a bright pink areola circling the erect nub of a nipple. My eyes trailed down her side to the curves of her hip and I strained to see more, but the doorjamb hid her other treasures.
Her stance shifted and I quickly looked up. She smirked at me and I shrugged, smiling. What was I going to do, not look? No point in being embarrassed about admiring an attractive woman, I always say. At least when Laura can't hear.
Of course all this took only a few seconds before the brunette slipped back into the dressing room and her boyfriend hustled down the hall. I heard her giggle just before the dressing room door slammed behind him.
Now me, I just leaned back and chuckled. I didn't know what amused me more—the young lovers being naughty, or my own luck at being in the right place at the right time. Little did I know….
Because things got even better. Laura's door opened and she came out. She glanced back at the other dressing room, a small frown creasing her lips, but then she smiled when she saw me.
“Darling,” she said, “The last style almost fit perfectly, so I'm going to see if I can find some other colors and maybe get one of the clerks to help me.”
I shrugged. “I can wait here.”
She leaned in and kissed my cheek. “Thanks for being so patient.” Then she was off, headed for the front of the store.
What could I say? Even if she'd been done, there was no way I wanted to move. I was curious as hell about what the young couple was doing, and staying at my post was the only way I had a chance of finding out.
It didn't take long. A loud moan filled the air, followed by a feminine giggle and some shushing. Then another masculine moan, only a little quieter. I could hear them talking too, but couldn't make out the words. It didn't matter. His next cry made it clear what they were doing.
But unfortunately for them, I wasn't the only one who heard. The attractive clerk brushed by me and stormed down the short hallway. She pulled up in front of their dressing room and barked, “What are you doing?!”
“Uh…,” came a male voice.
“Trying stuff on,” said the girl.
The clerk snorted but didn't hesitate. She pulled out her key and jammed it in the lock. Whipping the dressing door open, she started to yell something, but the teenage delinquent shoved by her, knocking her to the ground. I flattened myself against the wall as he ran past.
“Hey!” the clerk yelled, getting to her feet. “Stop!” She chased after him. “Kathy! Call security!”
The guy dodged racks of clothes with more athleticism than I would've given him credit for. He made it to the front door just as the other clerk hung up the phone. He rounded the corner into the main part of the mall but then there was a loud yell. Everyone in the store hurried to the entrance to watch ... something. I couldn't see what.
What I could see was the brunette. She'd stepped out of the dressing room, clutching her clothes in front of her, looking wide-eyed at me.
“Get dressed!” I hissed.
Now, looking back, I don't know why I decided to help her. I should've just let her get caught like her boyfriend. Maybe it was because I'd enjoyed their audacity. Maybe it was remembering how Laura and I had fooled around in dressing rooms decades ago. All I know is that the words were out of my mouth in an instant.
Which is all it took for the brunette to respond. She dropped her skirt, pulled her top on, then stepped into her skirt and pulled it up. I only managed quick glances because I was nervously watching the store and the gathering crowd outside.
Then she was beside me, peering around me. I pointed to the bulge of people. “Your boyfriend went that way,” I said, pointing to the left of the entrance. “If you go that way,” I pointed to the right, “I think you can slip out the back of the crowd.”
“What if someone sees me?” she whispered, gesturing at the now-empty store.
I paused. “Stay behind me,” I said. Then I started slowly walking toward the front of the store, her trailing in my shadow.
Yeah, I know I'm a big guy, but it's still not easy. You try it sometime—walking casually while trying to prevent anyone from spotting what's behind you. I was sure that someone would turn around and see us.
No one did.
My biggest moment of nerves came when we arrived at the crowd itself, but the brunette was cool as ice. She nudged a woman on the outermost edge.
“What's going on?” she asked.
“Security caught a shoplifter,” the woman said. “And he's putting up quite a fight.”
“Oh.” The brunette paused for a few heartbeats. “Do you mind if I get by?”
“Sure.” The woman shifted. With a quick look of thanks to me, the brunette slid by her and disappeared.
I must admit, my heart was yammering and cotton filled my mouth. Good thing my cholesterol's down, because otherwise that might have been it. I took a few deep breaths and tried to look casual.
A small cheer went up from the front of the crowd and the whispered word flowed back. “They got him!”
I let out a sigh, more regretful than I'd expected. I was still standing there when Laura found me.
“That was exciting!” she said, her face flushed and eyes bright.
I nodded and we started back to where I'd left the packages.
“Imagine shoplifting from Victoria's Secret,” she mused. “I can't imagine he could use anything he stole.”
I snorted. “He wasn't shoplifting. He was having sex with his girlfriend in the dressing room next to yours.”
“Really?”
I nodded.
“Hmm. I thought I'd heard two voices.”
“Well, ya did.”
She chuckled. Good sport, my wife. Not offended at all.
When we got back to the dressing rooms, she stopped and shook her head. “I left the bras I was going to try on at the front of the store. I'll need to figure out where.” She noticed my grimace and her face softened. “And you've been so patient already. How about if you go on to the bookstore?”
Well, that was the second miracle of the day, and I wasn't about to let it go. I snatched up the bags from the floor and licked my lips. They were dry so I looked up at her.
“Actually,” I said, “I could use a Coke. I may go to the food court instead.”
She smiled. “Your choice. I'll call your cell when I'm done.”
I smiled back, we exchanged I love you’s, and I escaped.
Yeah, I know. Doesn't sound like much does it? I mean, what's so unbelievable about standing near a dressing room at the right time? Even I thought it wasn't much. Except I was wrong.
Ya see, I'd gotten my Coke and sat at a back table in the food court. I wanted to rest and think a bit, but I hadn't been there more than a minute when a vision appeared in front of me. The brunette.
“Hi,” she said, grinning. “Can I join you?”
“Uh… sure.” I gestured toward the seat opposite me, but instead she slid into a chair at the next table, swiveling sideways to face me.
“Do you know what happened to Robbie?” she asked, leaning back. She stretched her legs out, drawing my eye.
“Your boyfriend? He put up a fight, but he lost. I imagine he's under arrest now.”
“Damn.”
“If it's his first offense, I'm sure he'll be fine.”
“It's not.” She bit her lip and looked away.
Yeah, I'd pegged him all right. “I'm sorry.”
That got her attention back, but she frowned. “Why are you sorry? You didn't arrest him.”
I smiled. “True.”
“Besides. After Robbie took off… you helped when you didn't have to.”
I chuckled. “I didn't see why you should get in trouble for doing something I've done.”
I think that's when she saw me differently. At least she tilted her head and her eyes widened.
“Get out! You've fucked in a dressing room?”
“Well… I was a lot younger. And it was just fingering, really.”
She smirked. “We were doing more than that.”
I smirked back. “I figured, from the noise.”
“I told Robbie to be quiet.”
“If he had, you would have gotten away with it.”
She nodded. “I know.” Then she smiled just a bit, which encouraged me to be bold.
I leaned forward, making exaggerated looks to the side, before smiling at my co-conspirator. “But can you blame him? Being with a woman as gorgeous as you?”
She giggled. The she returned my secretive grin. “That's right. You got to see me naked.”
I leaned back. “Yeah. Not very well. Or long. But… wow.” I toasted her with my Coke and took a swig.
She giggled again.
“Definitely wow.”
“You're just being nice.”
I gave a “who me?” shrug and set my drink down. “Robbie obviously agreed, or he wouldn't have been so loud.”
That was a preview of Unexpected Sights. To read the rest purchase the book.