After my haircut, I was starving. I headed up a level to a place called P.F. Chang’s. It was an Asian fusion restaurant Mary had told me about—her bridge club went there once a month and boozed it up over fried wontons and sushi. I was hoping they had more standard Chinese fare. I didn’t like the idea of sushi.
When the bill came, I was stunned. It was nearly thirty dollars! I didn’t even order an appetizer. I sighed. In less than half a day, I had moved into a whole new socioeconomic strata. At least my Mongolian Beef probably tasted better than elephant.
I paid the bill, leaving a generous tip because I could, and walked back out into the mall. I still needed underwear and maybe a few new work shirts and pants. Despite my earlier trepidation, I was beginning to enjoy the freedom extra cash in my pocket could bring.
The next stop was Hugo Boss. I saw the underwear display from the entrance and had to go in, even if just to lust after the nearly naked torsos on the covers of the boxes. I picked up several boxes, pretending I was deciding on what style I wanted, but really I was just trying to see if they fully airbrushed the pictures or if you could see the outline of their dicks in the underwear. On some of them, you could. Hot.
I knew I wouldn’t look as good in them as the models on the box but I really did need underwear and I wasn’t picky. I knew I wanted boxer briefs and I preferred darker colors, mostly black. I had given up tighty-whiteys in college. They had boxes of three, so I bought three boxes in my size—medium according to the chart on the back. They were all black, which was cool. One less decision every day.
Directly across from Abercrombie & Fitch was an Apple Store. I decided to check it out. I was curious about iPads. I had no work use for one so I never asked Marcus to buy one for me to use at the office. And of course, I never had the budget personally, so none for home either. But my apartment complex did have WiFi. The owners added it a year ago as part of a rent increase of only ten bucks a month. Not much for high speed internet.
The store was crowded so I almost didn’t go in. But this cute little Indian girl asked me if she could help me find something. I followed her in, and in just a few minutes, we had narrowed my choice down to the latest iPad for WiFi in black. She upsold me some additional accessories—an iHome box so I could play music at the apartment, a carrying case, and a screen protector kit. She also suggested a stylus, but that didn’t seem necessary to me. The best part is she set it all up for me right there in the store so I wouldn’t have to connect it to a computer at work to do it. I’m sure I could have figured it out, but I didn’t want to have to explain the iPad at work.
I exited the Apple Store, arms weighed down with all my new goodies. I didn’t think I could carry anything else. I began walking back toward where I came in and spied the J.Crew store. They had men’s dress shirts in the window, and a cute girl waved to me when I looked at her. That was odd—most girls just ignored me like I was invisible. Maybe it was my new haircut? What was odder still was the even cuter Hispanic guy standing three steps behind her, looking at me the same way. I figured I better go see about their shirts.
Kylie, according to her name tag, flipped her curly blond hair behind her ear and smiled.
“Welcome to J.Crew. How may I…”
“I’ve got this, Kylie. Can you help Samantha with folding those shirts over there? Thanks, love.” I watched as Kylie shrugged her shoulders, smiled again at me and nearly skipped over to Samantha, who looked anything but happy folding shirts and putting them back according to the size order on the display table.
“So how can I help you? My name is Jesse, by the way.” He stuck out his light brown hand and I shook it, thinking this was a rather personal greeting. But maybe that’s how they did things at J.Crew. Every store has a different angle to get you to part with your money. His black hair was cut very short next to his scalp with a matching amount of beard showing all over. It was a sexy look to say the least.
“Hello, Jesse, I’m Jack. Nice to meet you. I was looking for some dress shirts for work. Maybe some nicer pants. You know, office casual. Nothing super fancy. We usually wear Dockers and buttoned shirts with collars.”
“Sure, we’ve got lots to choose from in the back. Follow me.” So I did. And I was rewarded with an ass that filled his pants like they had two cheek holders sewn in, perfectly proportioned to his measurements. A thing of beauty. The pants were a dark blue textured material and looked very expensive. I wanted some. And I wanted my ass to look that good in them.
Jesse was friendly and helpful but not flirty. He was good at his job. And I mean really good. By the time I got out of there, I had five new work shirts and five new pairs of pants, including the blue ones Jesse was modeling, although my ass probably wasn’t nearly as spectacular as his in them. But it wasn’t bad either. Just as we were walking up to the registers, I saw a sports coat hanging on a mannequin. It was charcoal gray, almost black, and it looked casual and sophisticated displayed over a light blue work shirt and the same blue pants I was buying. I wanted it.
Jesse helped me find the right size, and to my good fortune, it fit really well off the rack, no tailoring needed. He said that hardly ever happens, that I’d be a fool not to take it. Yeah, I’ll bet.
By this time, I had stopped thinking about the money. After you spend one hundred fifty dollars on shampoo and conditioner, you clearly have no financial scruples anymore. So when Jesse rang up the bill and swiped my Centurion card, I didn’t even look at the receipt. I had people for that.
I had no more room in my hands for packages so it was time to go home. I needed a nap and time to process what had happened today. As I drove home in the afternoon gloom, stealing looks at myself in the rearview mirror at every stop light like some narcissistic nimrod, I kept thinking about the crazy day I just had. I met some great people, spent the most money ever on myself, and now had some great new clothes and a cool new hairdo.
Pulling into my apartment complex, I had a momentary panic attack. Crap! I had to go back to work on Monday. What do I tell Marcus and Mary about the last few days? Do I say anything? They’re going to take one look at me and know something had changed. I didn’t know so I decided to pull a Scarlett O’Hara and think about that tomorrow. For now, it was time to go inside and play with my new purchases. And maybe with myself a little bit. Damn, that Andy was hot stuff.