*** The Realization ***
It was shortly after I had checked in at the airport hotel – the venue for my business meeting – that I realized I had forgotten to pack my underwear. Of course, I had to recheck my luggage four times before I finally convinced myself that I had done it. It was not an auspicious start to the trip.
So what were my options? I could always "going commando..." or not. There's something worrisome about having my vital bits next to zipper teeth. No, there was nothing left to do but to go to the mall to restock.
The problem was that the closest mall was one of those snooty "fashion malls," which features valet parking for those who don't get dropped off by their chauffeurs. I probably should have tried to find a regular department store, but being way out at the airport, I didn't want to drive all the way into the city. So I jumped in my rental car and made my way to the Mecca of consumerism.
Wandering along the mezzanine level, I inspected countless stores whose names I had never heard of before and whose product lines were difficult to discern from the little that was on display. In one store, there was a single glass bowl on a table in the middle of an empty floor, and the remainder of the store was painted yellow... I walked on.
Finally, I found a store that exhibited five half-torso mannequins wearing boxers and briefs. It was called "Essence..." close enough... I took a chance and walked in. A sign in the window read, "Positions available for Fitting Assistants and Release Attendants. Must be at least 18 years old to apply. Discretion required. "
Surveying the store, I didn't see anyone, staff or clients, and so it didn't surprise me that they were hiring. What the hell is a Release Attendant? Why was "discretion" stipulated? And was there anyone even working here?
I wandered about the store in an attempt to check out their selection, guessing that it must be more than what was on display, but I couldn't find any merchandise to look at. What the mannequins were wearing was okay, but based on the silkiness of the material, I guessed that they probably each cost more than I wanted to pay for my whole purchase.
*** The Assessment ***
As I reached the rear of the store, I suddenly noticed a gorgeous woman standing behind a service counter. She must have sneaked in when my back was turned. When she noticed me, she walked over. She was tall, graceful, dignified... and sultry. "Good afternoon, sir," she greeted me, "My name is Katherine. Welcome to Essence. "
Katherine's smoky, faintly accented voice caught my attention, and her shapely, ravishing figure didn't let it go. As she walked toward me, her silky, black hair swished lightly on the shoulders of her dark blue, tailored suit, and her full breasts bounced provocatively beneath her black, silk top. Underneath her short skirt, the lacy tops of her black stockings played peek-a-boo with the outside world with each step of her long, thin legs and each click of her black, high-heeled shoes.
When she finally stopped in front of me, I was transfixed by her enigmatically dark eyes – were they green or brown? – and heavy, black eyebrows. "Who are you looking for today?" she asked.
"Huh? Oh, well, YOU can serve me, if that's okay," I answered and was puzzled when she giggled.
"No, sir," she clarified, "Which designer's line did you have in mind?"
I hesitated, not knowing how to answer her. "I'm just here to buy some underpants," I explained.
She chuckled again. "First time to our store, sir?"
"Yes, first time to the city in fact. "
She walked over to the service counter to pick up a clipboard, appeared to push some type of button on the desk and returned. "And what is your name?" she asked, preparing to fill out her form.
"Uh... Davis... Harvey Davis. Look, I just wanted to grab a couple packages of Haines and be on my way. Maybe I've come to the wrong store. "
She grasped my forearm to symbolically prevent me from leaving. "Nonsense, Mr Davis. I'm sure that you will be more than satisfied with what we are going to offer you. " She let go of my arm and scanned down the form on the clipboard. "So Mr Davis," she said with a wry smile, "Here's a simple question for you... Boxers or briefs?"
Hey, now there's a question I could answer. "Briefs," I said, "I've never been one for boxers. "
"Okay, sir. Biker, sports, hip, executive, low rise, bikini, thong, jock, French cut, or Brazilian cut... "
"Um... "
"Button, clip, snap, or clasp... "
"Um... "
"Y-front, seamless, or pocket. "
"Uh," I stammered, "Maybe I should point out that my wife usually buys my underwear. "
"That's all right, sir," Katherine said reassuringly, stepping forward and putting her hand on my shoulder. "Do you mind if I just take a quick peek so that I can pick out a few options?" She set the clipboard on a side table just as someone emerged from a back room.
"Yeah, sure. I... uh... What?" I couldn't have heard the question correctly, but I was distracted by the young girl walking towards us. She must be at least 18 years old to work here, but she didn't look much older than that. She was wearing a black, suede, mini-skirt that was just an inch too long to show some cheek and a light grey sweater that was just a size too small to conceal her bra-less status – based on her evident nipples and jiggly bounce. Her oval-shaped face featured unconfident eyes but a devilish grin, and her dusty blond hair was pulled back into a ponytail that tried to be professional but couldn't hide her girlish youthfulness.
Then, Katherine jolted my attention back to her as her hands undid my belt and zipper in the middle of the store. Out of embarrassment, I quickly surveyed our surroundings to see who would see us, but luckily, I continued to be the only customer.
