The Thin Line Between Powertools and Lingerie
"So Miss, those are your cordless right there. Right next to that is your standard sort of drill and all of them got grounds to them. Extra power units for the cordless are back over that way, but be careful of what you buy cause not all units are going to fit all drills. But if you're lookin' for speed and power you want to go with your standard drill that will plug into any outlet, just so long as it has a ground to it. Those are all reversible and you get the highest rpm out of um' compared to the cordless. But you're gonna go with that you gonna need an extension cord if you don't already got one. Most of them are between aisles twenty-two and twenty-four, on the North end. There are some more over in aisle nineteen right next to the conduits..." the customer service specialist droned on at Stacey.
"Yeah!" Stacey said with an overly enthusiastic tone of sarcasm she was positive was missed by the middle aged man in the bright red smock. "What the hell is an rpm?" Stacey thought to herself. "Okay."
"Well if you need anything else Miss..." his breath attacked her with the stink of old cold cuts and Velveeta.
"For starters you can stop staring at my tits," seemed fitting to her at the time, but she settled for a simple: "No, I think I'll be fine," as she stared blankly at the endless array of power tools that seemed to tower over and around her. Without so much as a goodbye, the "sales representative" was already halfway out of the aisle.
Horsepower, torque deferential, circumference, cutting radius, rpms... "More like s'n'm if you ask me," she whispered to herself in a voice so soft she would have to have left lip gloss marks on the outer ear of anyone close enough to hear. "What the fuck was I thinking?" She felt that she must have had a fit of masochistic tendencies to put herself through anything like tool shopping. The store itself smelled like a mixture of saw dust and motor oil; the customers smelled worse. With the exception of the "oh so helpful" sales rep, the only attention she had received from any of the staff were glares at either her legs or her breasts.
"I knew this skirt was too short," she thought to herself as she stood in the isle tugging nervously on its pleats. She stood centered in the array of saws, sanders, drills, and some things that she could only describe as props taken from some of the slasher movies she had watched as a teenager. And if that wasn't bad enough, Kenny Rogers was starting to play on the over head speakers. Stacey began to doubt the success of her endeavor and began to wonder if something else might be more appropriate.
As the voice of Kenny Rogers belting out "Daytime Friends and Nighttime Lovers" filled her ears like shards of glass her eyes surveyed the seemingly endless array of flashy colored boxes displaying nothing but power tools. She began to aimlessly wander down the aisle, both mentally and physically. "Gee Tomas instead of a new pneumatic drill with full reverse speed wouldn't you rather like me to get a nice lacy teddy with matching stockings and give you a fashion show of sorts? I could do the things you like, and maybe even some of the things you really like..."
Yes, the more her eyes passed meaninglessly over the power tools the more she felt that that would be a far better and more likely idea. She took one long look at the tools as she began to step away. "Maybe next year,"" she whispered as she began to take a step and turn at the same time, walking straight into something and almost falling over in the process.
"Ah fuck!" she muttered louder than she normally would have as she stumbled over her own feet and dropped her purse. As she looked down quickly she realized it was not her foot she had tripped over. She was wearing low healed, size six black pumps, not the large black Nike high tops she had tripped over. Her purse fell to the floor; she felt herself begin the journey to join it as she lost all balance and began to fall. Another "Ah fuck!" ready to come on out.
As if her tool buying adventure was a tragic film suddenly put on "pause," she stopped in mid-fall.
Shocked and confused by her loss of equilibrium she looked up and felt everything come to a total and sudden halt. Her fall, her breathing, her body and her blinking: all the world itself as she looked at the man who held her gently yet securely by each arm, just below the shoulder. He had a young looking face, guarded all around by loose black hair that came down just past his shoulders. There were very few lines on his face as her eyes flashed over it, an almost feminine curvature to his nose and lips. His skin had a slight olive quality. Even in that instant she knew that she had never seen darker brown eyes in her life. They were vexing, almost eerie in their own dark quality. All of this ran through her body, like the shocking jab of a needle in the bare instant between when she first saw his face and the time it took him to help her regain her balance.
Stacey felt her feet stabilize again. "Thank you," she said. She felt a bit wobbly, but she did still stand on her own power. The man's hands left her arms. "Damn do you have to let go?" a little voice in her said playfully.
"Your welcome," he said in a shy sounding baritone. "But first I should say I'm sorry." "Good Christ even his voice is sexy..." She knelt to pick up her purse. "Oh God no I am sorry," she said as she bent at the waist to pick up the bag and then slightly at the knees when she felt the hem of her skirt begin to caress upward along the back of her thigh. "I knew this skirt was too short,"
But he again had beaten her to it. As she bent to the waist, so did he but only faster. He had already grabbed her purse and was moving back up to a standing position, bringing them literally a hair width from bumping heads in the process; Her blonde hair meshing against his dark hair as they passed. She felt a lock of his hair graze across her ear and felt her balance come into question again as this time the shock she felt originated between her legs, but this time was not altogether unpleasant to her.
He handed her the bag. "Thank you again," she muttered and fumbled with the latch on her purse. "Here I almost trample through you and you are still being polite." "You're rambling like an idiot. Stop it."
"Most people would have told me to just get the fuck out of their way by now..."
"That's the way to charm him you dumb shit. Show him how well you cuss." "Oh God I'm so sorry. Pardon my language; I'm sure it looks great me standing here saying "fuck" to a total stranger." With that she just stopped and looked at him, taking a deep breath and sighing. "Well I have made enough of an ass of myself for one day. Thanks again Sir; I will be on my way."
"'Exotica And A'more' here I come." She turned around and began to walk away. "Goodbye cool surprise for Tomas... Goodbye sexy stranger..."
"No wait," he said. "What are you having trouble with? You said something about 'next year' and then I ran into you."
"What?" she said. "Goddamned cheap purse..." she fumbled with the latch.
"I said "what about next year?"
