June 19, 2013

Gone Shopping

Posted in stories at 1:55 am by littlesubmissions

It was Saturday, but still early. People rolled out of beds, ate breakfast, and puzzled through what they would do with the rest of the day. Told the kids they would go to the mall, the grocery store, or work on the garden later in the day and to not get wrapped up in video games.

They pulled into the parking lot, mostly empty. She grinned, he glared at the glass doors and mannequins in the window.

“You’re sure this is necessary?” He cocked his head towards one shoulder, wondering how anyone could humiliate even a mannequin with a lime green jumper. He thought of asking her, then kept silent. Such innocent inquiries had come back to haunt him in the past.

She checked her phone and nodded. “Yes. Those jeans are awful, and they’re actually one of your better pair. I’m pretty sure when you buy clothes your only requirement is that you not be naked anymore, and I’m tired of you looking like I dragged you out of a grunge video.”

He sighed. “Not true. I also look for the lowest prices. And these are comfortable.”

Her shoulders shrugged as she put away the phone. “Well, we’re doing this.”

He started to get out of the car but stopped when she put her hand on his shoulder. “One thing first though.” He looked over at her, took his hand off the door. “I’m going to need you to give me your underwear.”

He looked around the parking lot, still mostly empty, but with security cameras obviously pointed across the asphalt. “Uhm, not sure I can do that legally, ma’am. They have restrooms inside though.”

Her hair bounced as her head shook. “Nope, no worries, your ma’am always plans ahead.” Her hand dropped into her purse and she pulled out a small pair of safety shears, scissors with a blunt tip and curved handle designed for cutting through cloth and rope quickly and safely. She slapped them against his leg and leaned back, leering at him.

“Of course she does…” He grumbled but smiled back at her, and unbuttoned his pants. The shears slid down one leg, then the other. They chomped through the waistband and he hacked down the cloth leaving a long, jagged tear. The left side was more awkward, but eventually he twisted his hips and cut through it as well, pushing up in the seat and sliding the cloth between his legs until it emerged from the top of his pants. He blushed as he quickly but carefully zipped and re-buttoned his pants, then awkwardly offered her the underwear and shears.

Her face scrunched up as she took the shears then took his underwear between two small fingers, holding it between them like a particularly sad flag of surrender. “I ought to make you eat these. Unfortunately I don’t know what the affect is of ingesting…” She turned them around to look at the label. “Cotton, polyester, and 2% other? Who the hell buys underwear that is 2% other?”

He grinned, perversely proud of horrifying her. “They were cheap and made me not naked.”

She closed her eyes and sighed. “Sweet Flying Spaghetti Monster. I won’t make you eat other, but if you’re not good I’ll boil these when we get home and you can enjoy a nice broth made from other and whatever else is in them.”

“Yes ma’am.” His lip twitched at the thought of drinking that concoction. “I’ll be good.”

“We’ll see.” She threw the underwear on the car seat and got out, he quickly followed. They walked through the store to men’s clothing, and found the blue jeans. She flipped through several racks, pulling jeans off and setting them over her arm.

“Okay, we’ll start with these. Try them on.” She sat down on the bench outside the changing room, and he slipped through the door with the pants.

He shut the door behind and pushed in the privacy latch. He kicked his shoes off without bothering to unlace them, and shucked his pants down his legs. His reflection flinched back at him in the mirror, the site of his nudity bringing a flush of shame. He quickly pulled the new pants back on, swallowing hard as the denim slid across his rough skin.

She glanced at his jeans when he came out, taking him in thoughtfully. The slight sloop of his shoulders and blank look on his face told her where his head was. Someplace far away where he wasn’t responsible. She glanced at the jeans again, picked up her train of thought, and licked her lips. “Not quite. Try these.”

He walked over to her and took the new jeans, going back into the changing room and performing his humiliating little ritual again. She walked him back and forth, enjoying watching him sink lower into his head space. Becoming more clinical and detached, storing the memories and feelings for later, when she would unpack them and get herself off.

He had been standing in front of her for a little bit, silently and awkwardly, without his shoes, the door to the changing room open behind him. She sighed, and nodded. “Those will do.”

But she still wanted a little more. “Throw your old jeans away, tell the cashier you’ll be wearing those home. Put the pants you tried on but won’t be buying away, get two more pairs like those, and meet me in the car.”

“Yes ma’am.” It was a simple assent, none of the earlier personality there.

She smiled at him, “And don’t forget to clean out the pockets of your old jeans.”

He nodded.

She walked away, heading for the car, glad they had gotten this chore accomplished. And wondering how quickly she could get home and rip his new pants off.

Preview: “Oh, he’s a little shy… I like the shy ones.”

Copyright Jerry Jones. Unauthorized use is prohibited.

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