The jewelry case was closed, but unlocked. The ties in the men's section were crooked and mismatched. I must be just awful at my job, I thought.
The truth is that I was just terribly frustrated, emotionally drained, and had been on my feet for the past twelve hours.
Jack left me with the keys. What kind of manager leaves a petite twenty-four year old woman alone at 8:30 at night in an upscale clothing store during what's close to the darkest, coldest part of the year? It's a good part of town, sure, but my skin is so pale that it glows in the dark and my wavy jet black hair falls down to the middle of my back. I'm a prime target for ne'er do wells saying "grab the money and run".
But Jack had a date. Everyone had a date. It was February 14th. I didn't have a date. I had lost my long term date a little over a week ago. Two years down the drain. And I didn't even learn any tricks in bed.
I locked the jewelry case and my irritation flared. Sandra was the one who'd left it unlocked. Guess she didn't want to be late for her romantic dinner.
There was a soft rustling off to my left as I eyed the shiny silver and gold cufflinks behind the lit glass. I glanced over and saw a fairly handsome man in his mid forties wearing a dark grey suit, delicately inspecting the haphazard collection of mismatched red and black ties. Because I didn't really want to deal with anyone else tonight and he seemed content to explore on his own, I emptied the trash bag from under the counter and resolved to deal with the straightening of the ties later, just before I locked up for the night.
I passed the man on my way to the back. He readjusted his wire framed glasses and gave me a warm but closed smile. A salesman smile. A corporate smile. I politely smiled back with a nod and averted my gaze.
This was a store for people with obscene amounts of money. If there was one thing I'd learned about rich people in my two years working around them, it was that most of them were incredibly elitist and superficial. In a place like this, they always made sure you knew you were the help. But I could have looked past all that if the wealthy folks I'd met hadn't been so unforgivably boring. They had lavish tastes, but during the days when I had little else to do but eavesdrop on stay at home wives, I found that money seems to cling to people with little action or internal vibrancy.
Sometimes, just for the hell of it, I'd look at a doctor or investor or some heir to a bathroom toilet throne and try to imagine if they'd ever had sex in any position except missionary. I wondered if any of them were spicing it up on this particular Valentine's Day.
I had honestly never met a store client who looked at me as anything other than a change machine and gift wrapper.
Call me cynical. Call me bitter. Go ahead. I can take it.
The cream colored wall in the rear of the store greeted me as I passed through a security office that held our surveillance cams. The guard was out on a date as well. I wondered what magical evening he and his wife were participating in tonight.
Along with the jewelry counter trash, I scooped up the full trash bags I'd previously left by the heavy metal back door leading to the dumpster alley. Operating on autopilot and paying little attention to anything except my terrible mood, I swung the door open and trudged through it towards the ungodly cold.
I was stopped abruptly by a huge, heavy, well-intentioned fire escape ladder that smacked me full on in the forehead. It was the same dingy ladder that I'd run into last week and the week before that. It wasn't blocking the entire door, but because the locking mechanism was busted, when it fell, it was in the way just enough to mess up my day. I cursed, rubbed my forehead tenderly, and worked my way around the ladder.
It was so cold outside. My nipples hardened through the white polyester shirt and silky front clasp bra.
Both articles of clothing were thin and not protective for the below freezing temperatures of mid-February. I shivered and began walking at a quick pace towards the heavy gray dumpster bins.
The bins were pushed up against our sturdy brick building and were used by four other businesses with back doors emptying into the dead end alley. I hurried to the closest one, my teeth chattering all the way, and deposited the three bags of garbage.
The troublesome ladder was still hanging there at skull level when I got back. I sighed. I wasn't tall enough to shove it up into place, so it would have to wait until Jack got back in the morning.
I ducked the ladder and crossed the threshold back into the building.
Ah, warmth. The change in temperature set goose bumps to rise on every inch of my body. I shivered.
I jiggled the handle, checking to make sure it was securely closed.
On my way back to the shopping area with a half eaten box of chocolates and a bad disposition in hand, I paused in the security office. I sat down for the first time in hours and glanced at the grainy, motionless monitors.
The man had moved on to the khaki pants folded into neat piles at the feet of some Adonis mannequin.
The sturdy, unrealistic form of the male mannequin mocked me. I was used to having sex two or three times a week. Sometimes more if John, my ex, had been having particularly hard days. Sex seemed to be the perfect way to drag someone out of a mood.
I was used to being touched and pulled at around this time of the night. I'd be licked and sucked, and when the sensations had become too much for my body to handle, I'd been locked into place on the bed by strong arms to keep me from writhing and wiggling out of reach. For some reason, John had always been a fan of oral. I'd only convince him to let me ride his cock, maybe, two or three times a month. The rest of the time was oral for us both. Having is tongue licking the tender soft area between my thighs felt fantastic, don't get me wrong, but there was never anything quite like feeling full of someone and being able to look them straight in the eyes to see a primal desire that only comes from some dark, violent fire just below their gut. It makes me feel less alone when I can see a man's eyes while he's inside me.
There was a movement on one of the security cams. I jerked away from my memory and focused in on the tie and khakis man. Only person in the store. Get the hell out, dude.
He'd moved back to the ties. Predictable. I wanted to fix those damn ties, but there was something else I'd forgotten to do. What was it?
The dressing room trash cans. I smacked myself on the forehead in self admonishment. I always forgot those stupid things. For a moment, I thought I'd leave them and hope for a spanking instead of a write up as punishment when I got back in the AM. Nah. Best not to chance it.
I popped a piece of caramel filled chocolate into my mouth and headed back onto the floor to get the remaining trash.
The man smiled at me again and remained lingering. I couldn't help catching a glimpse of his tight backside as I passed. I caught the warm, spicy scent of his cologne on my way to the back door.
I hated this feeling. I felt feverish and every man with a pulse was of interest to me when I wanted sex.
He was handsome in a safe sort of way with his tailored dark grey suit and his classic corporate features. I bet he was a banker. No, and accountant. Not a stock broker, though. This guy wasn't wild enough to be one of those.
I popped out the back door, dodged my little ladder, did my little frigid weather trash dance, and reached the door to go back inside.
But the doorway was blocked. Blocked by the handsome forty-year-old accountant and his over-priced ties.
I was so startled that I almost bumped my head again.
"You're not supposed to be back here." I croaked. What the hell?
"I'm sorry." he said in a pleasant whispered voice. But he didn't move from the doorway to let me back inside. "I wanted your opinion on these."
