What Are The Odds?

by Melody Sims

 

"I think that style would look cute on you", she said softly over my shoulder.

I was so entranced by the delicate bell-sleeved blouse, that I didn't see the saleswoman approaching from behind. I was so busted.

The normal responses flashed across my mind and I felt my chin drop involuntarily, in effort to make my voice deeper. I felt my ears begin to burn with embarrassment as I slowly turned to see a striking, young woman looking back at me.

I opened my mouth to allow some preprogrammed macho nonsense about me wanting to buy this absolutely adorable blouse for someone else, but she stopped me before I had the chance,

"What color is your bra, because it might show through this material?"

With my mouth still agape, I gasped and smiled in total surprise that she also knew about the bra that I had so "skillfully" hidden under my light blue polo shirt. My saliva turned to consistency of peanut butter and I felt my tongue swell; I could only look into the pale blue eyes of the woman who had me dead to rights. She never broke her glance; just stood there smiling, searching my eyes and awaiting my response.

"Screw it" I said to myself. I am so busted; I might as well come clean and see if I can get out of here with the item that I want for once.

"White", I stated quietly while trying to maintain some level of composure.

Surely she's had other men in here shopping for cute girl clothes for themselves. I am a paying customer, I thought to myself; why shouldn't I get what I wanted; I felt a slight spray of confidence and felt my chin rise to rebut this challenge.

She easily saw my internal conflict and attempt at arrogance, then washed it away with one phrase, "Let's see how it looks on you."

I must have looked at her like she had just asked me to give up a kidney, because she gently took me by the elbow and walked me to the dressing room.

I was in shock. All I wanted to do was drop off my pictures at the one-hour place down the mall and get back home, when I spied the sale at one of my favorite stores for girl clothes. I decided to take a moment to just peruse through the racks, and now I am being escorted by the cute saleswoman to dressing room, to try on a blouse! How do I get myself into these situations?

She stopped me short of the entrance, "Wait here while I check for other customers."

She turned the corner, a moment later she peeked around the same corner with a devious grin, "Let's see how it looks on."

I laughed again at my own expense and followed her into the lavishly decorated changing room. She handed me the blouse and pointed to an open room.

"Are you sure?" I asked with a half grin and much trepidation.

She smiled easily and nodded. I crept into the changing room and heard the door close behind.

"I'll be right outside."

I stood there looking at myself in the full length mirror. "Well, I guess your gonna try on the blouse, aren't you?" I said to my blushing reflection. Remembering that I had looked in the mirror before leaving the house to see if the straps of my bra could be seen under the shirt, I turned around to see that the fluorescent lighting of the store cast slight, yet telltale shadows along my shoulders.

"Oh, hell" I said with another laugh at my own naivety. I slowly took off the polo, and inspected the off-white satin bra that was gently hugging my chest. I was slowly turning from side to side, when her voice broke through my quiet appraisal,

"How does it look? Let me see."

Shit, she wanted to see it on me! My heart began to pound in my bra-covered chest and my left knee started to shake. The door opened, our eyes locked and I stopped breathing.

"That really fits you well; did you get fitted by a professional?" She asked with a look of approval, and placed her slim, manicured hand on my left shoulder.

She surveyed my reflection in the mirror then reached for the blouse.

"How silly of me, I didn't realize that it buttoned in the back. No wonder you didn't have it one yet."

She looked directly into my eyes and held the blouse open for me. I slowly slid my arms through the bottom. I closed my eyes as she gently slid it down my torso. She adjusted the hem and moved behind me to fasten the four satin-covered buttons of the frothy upright collar.

"There." She said confidently. "That's a good fit and look for you."

I opened my eyes to see her nodding her approval as she walked around me.

"What do you think?" She asked.

I looked at my reflection and was pleased. The cream-colored, gauzy blouse fit like a dream. The sleeves were the perfect length and the flared hem was very flattering.

"A bra with a little more padding would give you a more finished look." She said matter of fact.

Without thinking, I nodded in agreement and turned sideways to see my profile. Realizing my overtly feminine gesture, I froze.

"You should really try it with a pink or mandarin orange skirt. Wait here" She patted my shoulder and walked out before I could decline her invitation to further worsen my situation.

Once again, I was standing there with my mouth agape, wondering what in the world was happening. She returned with two skirts; one in a soft pink silk and the other in a shimmering orange satin and a pair of bone colored pumps.

"I figured you for a size twelve, is that about right?" She asked with a smile. I nodded softly and thanked her for her help.

She waved her hand dismissingly, "This is fun" and walked out.

Deciding to follow this run of good fortune, I removed my socks, and wiggled out of my DKNY low-rise jeans, revealing the satin thong that matched my bra and shimmering pink toenails, struck a saucy pose, smiled and reached for the pink skirt. Once again, it fit really well. I saw that "Wonder Woman" had included footies in the toes of the delicate pumps; she hadn't missed a beat. I sat down on the short bench, put on the footies and slid into the three-inch pumps. I stood, and was smoothing out the skirt, which stopped about three inches above my knee, when I heard a soft knock on the door.

"Are you decent?" She asked.

I took a deep breath and softly replied, "I think so." She opened the door; her eyes went wide as she was looked directly at my legs.

Closing the door behind her, she said with a big smile, "I hope you don't mind me saying this, but you should never wear pants again." I smiled and thanked her for making this the absolute best day of my life.

"Why don't you try on the other skirt and see what you think?" She asked looking at me intently, as if she were really trying to see behind my eyes. I nodded and thanked her again as she walked out. Another deep breath, a few seconds of excited reflection and I reached back to unzip one of the skirts that I was definitely going to buy today. The mandarin skirt was trimmed in off-white satin and was almost knee length. It was not lined, and made a delicious swishing sound when I moved. I waited for a minute in hopes that "Dream Girl" would come in and tell me again that I should never wear pants. While I waited, I sort of regained my composure and started troubleshooting this whole situation.

I had been so preoccupied with the events that I didn't even ask her name, read her nametag, or take inventory of her outfit. I knew she had blonde hair and the voice of an angel, but that was about it. I took off the skirt, blouse, heels and footies, and sat down to put on my socks. I wiggled back into my jeans, donned the polo and stepped into my light-blue suede clogs. I carefully replaced the blouse and skirts on their hangers, and picked up the darling pumps. I came bouncing out of the dressing room like I didn't have a care in the world, and came face to face with a statuesque woman dressed impeccably in a gray pinstripe skirt suit.

She looked surprised and slightly agitated at me coming out of the ladies dressing room.

"Are you being helped, young man?"

I started to shake and mumble something unintelligible when she asked me my name and what I was doing here, with a little more emphasis.

I quickly told her my name and that I was being helped by a most helpful young lady in trying on the outfit in my hands. I offered the items to her for examination, hoping that she would not tell me to leave without them. She looked through the delicate items, then looked at me from head to toe and back again, settling her icy stare on my pleading eyes. I had to look up at her, as she was easily four inches taller than me; wondering what she was going to do about this most peculiar situation.

"Come with me, young man." She said sternly, turned on her heel and marched out into the store. As we exited the dressing room, I saw that the only other customers in the store were some girls looking through the sales racks, and luckily their backs were to us as she led me to the sales counter.

"Karen, have you been helping this young man?" She asked the woman behind the cash register.

This was the first time that I had actually taken the time to really look at her. She was about three inches taller than me, her dishwater blonde hair was shoulder length and framed her face in soft ringlets; she had delicate features and was very pretty (in a girl-next-door kind of way). She had faint freckles across the bridge of her nose and across her deliciously pronounced clavicles. Her smooth, slender hands were expertly manicured; her nails were not gaudy, but professional length and in almost the same color as my toes. She was also impeccably dressed in a brown-plaid jumper and a cream-colored long-sleeved knit top.

She looked at me and smiled genuinely as she replied to the woman whom I supposed was her supervisor.

"Yes, Rebecca. I was helping this young man."

She breathed a sigh of relief mixed with a certain amount of skepticism, placed the items on the counter and turned toward me.

"Patrick, did you decide on any of these items?"

"Yes, I'd like to buy them all." I said with as much confidence as I could muster under her probing gaze. I could also feel Karen's eyes on me, and my heart was in my throat.

"Very well, then. I hope that you enjoy your purchases." She said with that same tone of skepticism, and turned to Karen.

"Give our young friend a ten percent discount for his first visit and for selecting such high quality items." She turned her head at me, gave me another once over, smiled curtly and walked over to the group of giggling girls.

"What did she say when she saw you come out of the dressing room?" She secretively asked as she covered my left hand with hers.

I told of my first encounter with Rebecca Jacobs, and we shared a laugh. She rung up my purchases and placed them in a garment bag, then handed them to me across the counter. Our hands met once again and lingered together under the soft pink garment bag.

"Would you like to go out some time?" She asked with a cautious smile and again looking intently at me, as if searching my face for an answer to some question.

"I love to." I said, barely able to contain my excitement.

"How about tomorrow, I finish work at four o'clock; maybe we could catch a matinee or something?"

"Great! I'll meet you here." I said while my insides did summersaults of joy.

"See you then." She said with a big smile. I turned slowly and made my way out of the store. I felt like I was walking on a cloud all the way to my car. I carefully hung my new outfits on the hook in the backseat, and settled in behind the wheel.

"What just happened?" I asked my reflection in the rearview mirror. I recounted the events of the past few hours with excitement and a joy that I had not yet known in my 23 years on this planet.

I pressed my foot down on the clutch, put the key in the ignition and started my Volkswagen Beetle. I grabbed the wheel with my left hand and the gear shifter with my right, and froze.

"What'll I wear?"

  

  

  

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© 2005 by Melody Sims. All Rights Reserved. These documents (including, without limitation, all articles, text, images, logos, and compilation design) may be printed for personal use only. No portion of these documents may be stored electronically, distributed electronically, or otherwise made available without the express written consent of StorySite and the copyright holder.