Author's note: Jim has been thinking about Michael's adventure in Bloomingdale's. He can't get it out of his mind. He's determined to give Bloomingdale's a try Wednesday afternoon. While he's waiting, you could get up to speed by reading Michael's account of a Wednesday afternoon and evening at Bloomingdale's yourself (Iona published on Literotica: 9 April 2018 -- https://www.literotica.com/s/iona-1).
*****
Lunch Wednesday took forever to arrive. I usually take a long lunch on Wednesday's and this week I planned to take the afternoon off as well. Michael had been pretty graphic about his encounter with a remarkable woman at Bloomingdale's and I was determined to try the same venue. I believed he was correct in stating that if you wanted to meet women, read "pick up," then you needed to change the rules, control the environment and approach women when and where they least expect it. His choice of location was Bloomingdale's and I felt I couldn't lose by taking his advice. If I got half as lucky as he had, I'd be up all night, if you get my drift. On our usual Friday night together, I told him I was determined to duplicate his success this Wednesday.
Wednesday arrived. I was distracted all morning and at lunchtime, I bailed out and walked, a trifle quickly, to Bloomingdale's. Once there, I scouted the women's clothing, lingerie and cosmetics departments. Michael was right. Every person, except for a couple of male salespeople, was a woman. Most were above average in looks, dressed nicely and all were available, at least in my imagination. About two-thirds of them were married based on my examination of their left hands.
I decided to try my luck in the fragrance department. I pretended confusion over the large number of choices. Eventually a cute "fragrance consultant" came over and began asking me questions. "Can I help you?" "Who are you shopping for?" "What fragrance does she currently use?" "What do you think she'd like?"
I fumbled most of the questions and, when a nicely dressed woman approached the counter, my consultant excused herself and went to help her. I moved to another counter two aisles over. I didn't approach the counter. Instead, I strolled slowly around as if I was waiting for someone. I was but I didn't know whom. I never found her. I struck out. I left alone and went home where I chastised myself for my stupidity and lack of courage. Michael would have done better and I was determined to do better as well.
At lunch the next Wednesday, I walked slowly, determined and with a confidence I didn't actually feel, to Bloomingdale's. I went immediately to the fragrance counter. I didn't pretend to shop. I stood nearby, looking at my watch and waiting. A stacked brunette walked by and she smelled incredible. I must have reacted audibly. She stopped, turned around and asked, "Did you say something?"
I was unprepared for her question and stumbled over my words as I answered, "Just that I love the fragrance you're wearing."
"Really?"
"Yes. I had a physical response as you passed me. I didn't realize I had made any sound. I'm sorry if I offended you."
"No offense taken. Tell me more about your 'physical response'."
"This conversation is getting personal and we just met. I don't think I can explain it without sounding crude," I said as I looked down at my crotch.
"I get it. This is the first time I've worn this fragrance and you've eased my concerns about it. Do you think my husband will like it? I mean as much as you do," she said as she looked down at my crotch as well.
"I don't know your husband but if he doesn't then he's either crazy or dead. It's perfect for you. No man in his right mind could resist you if that was all you were wearing."
One eyebrow came up and she looked at me with a wry smile. "Maybe I went too far with that last comment," I thought. She leaned in, kissed me lightly on the cheek and said, "Thank you. I can't wait to get home and test his response." With that, she was gone.
I rubbed my cheek as she walked away. "Almost," I thought. She had taken me by surprise and I almost recovered. I wondered how much preparation Michael did before he set out to score. I bet he imagines numerous possible scenarios and prepares dialogue for each.
The fragrance department was lightly attended so I moved my efforts to the lingerie department. While walking over, I tried to imagine leading, but not offensive, conversation. In the nightwear section, I moved near a conservatively dressed, thirty-something woman. When she examined a short peignoir with crotch less panties, I inhaled sharply, loud enough for her to hear. She looked at me, scowled and walked away.
My eyes followed her down the aisle. She walked by a tall, dark woman with black hair in a ponytail that hung to her shoulders. My heart skipped a beat. She looked exactly like Iona, the woman Michael had described to me. There couldn't be two women that looked like that. It had to be Iona.
As I stared, she looked up and saw me watching. She checked the woman walking by her and then back to me. By that time, my focus had moved from the woman walking to the woman standing. I guess my mouth was open or something because Iona, I knew it had to be her, tilted her head slightly and examined me more intently.
Everything about the situation made me uncomfortable. I didn't know whether to cry, run or just puddle on the floor right there.
She straightened up and began to walk in my direction. Short skirt. Four-inch heels. Perfectly proportioned body. I was helpless. She was even more stunning face on.
"Hi," she said as she approached. "Do I know you?"
"No," I answered, "I don't think so but I'd love to get to know you better."
She laughed, a sound as beautiful as she was. "Is that the best pick up line you have?"
"I don't have any pick up lines. At least none that work," I said.
She laughed again. I could listen to that laugh for eternity. "Tell me, were you staring at that woman walking down the aisle or were you staring at me?"
"Honestly?"
"Is there any other way?"
