by Wright,Lulu
Dammit! How many tall, broad shouldered blond dudes in black suits are there in Philly?
And why do I want to see that pompous, overbearing jerkface so badly?
My body doesn’t listen to my brain when I am around him. His stunning beauty lobotomizes me, leaving me a mash of kicked up hormones and throbbing desire.
I’m glad he’s not around tonight. I don’t want to see him. Yet here I am on the selling floor with my Jack radar finely tuned to any possible appearance.
Dammit. I do want to look at him.
I also want to argue with him. Clearly, I am a crazy person.
I dive into my underwear fixtures and just randomly pull out boxes and stuff them back in. Anything to keep busy. But the hours drag on, the ache between my legs worsens at every memory that hits me—his hands bending me over that desk to spank me, those same hands wrapped around my tits the other day when we finally kissed—and still, the night ends with no Jack sighting.
That must be a good thing. Right?
At last, freedom. I clock out and rush to meet Ricky, Jen and Jeffrey at the Irish Pub on Walnut Street. I know Jen through the underwear game. She works for a bra company and keeps my lingerie drawer maxed out with frilly bras and lacy panties. I hit her back with sexy Flash Fit options for her to give to the guys she dates. She’s a player, so I give her enough free manties to clothe an army. Jeffrey, I know through Ricky. He clerks for a judge now but has political ambitions. He’s gorgeous, but oh, so very gay.
Sigh.
“Girl!” Ricky waves me over to their table in the back the second I walk into the pub. Before I can take off my coat, he’s drafting me to settle an argument. “Yo, Lily, tell Jen I got all naked in the City Hall observation deck. She don’t believe me!”
“He definitely did,” I say. That was some fast talking I did with the cops to get Ricky out of that one. “Last year. And it was January.”
Ricky beams with pride like he won a Good Citizenship award. He’s outrageous, but not 100% without shame. The fact that he is admitting to his naked romp in a historic landmark tells me he’s already drunk.
The fact that Jen and Jeffery are slurring their disbelief and giggling like imbeciles tells me they’re wasted too.
I need to catch up.
I signal the waiter and order an IPA with liver-killing alcohol content and a shot of Jameson. After I get to a numb, silly state myself, I have the courage to tell them all about Connor’s rodeo play with Cowgirl Skank. The table sobers up in an instant. Jen shakes her head, Jeffery’s mouth hits the table and Ricky keeps repeating “that fucker” with every additional detail I share.
“And she was giving me this look like I win bitch,” I growl. “I wanted to slap her. And him. And myself for being such an idiot.”
“Oh, girl. Look at you.” Ricky wraps his arm around me. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
I shrug my shoulders and take a slug of my third IPA. If I keep on drinking I am going to have a meltdown and admit to my stockroom spanking and dressing room makeout session. I really need to chill it.
Ok, one more IPA, but just one. If I nurse it the rest of the night, I will keep my naughty secrets to myself.
“You know.” Jen flips back her red hair. She always does that when she has something important to say. “It’s not like that was going well with Connor anyway.”
“Yeah, that’s been a train wreck for a while,” Jeffery agrees. “You’ve been complaining about him since you met him.”
“I know. It’s just that …” but I let the sentence drop. I am surprised at this weepy emotion taking over me.
I guess I have been working so much in the last couple weeks, I haven’t given myself any time to actually think about the whole Connor thing. The only reaction I allowed myself was anger. Now, loosened up by booze, the thing that’s really bugging me comes to the surface. Loneliness.
Connor wasn’t the best boyfriend, not by a long shot. He was at most a warm body, someone to have dinner with or go to see a show with. But at least I wasn’t alone.
Jen reaches over the table and squeezes my hand. “You have needed to rip off that band aid for a while. You deserve better.”
“Yeah.” I am tearing up, but I sniff it back. “But I’m alone now, so …”
“That’s not a bad thing.” Ricky tightens his arm around me and cups my face to make me look at him. “Now you have the freedom to look for a great guy. Jen’s right. My girl deserves better. Much better. I know you will find that.” He kisses my forehead and pokes at my bottom lip. “Where’s my smile?”
I give him a little grin that’s more like a pout. He lights up that famous smile of his that makes me feel like a million bucks and I smile for real.
“There we go.” He raises his gin and tonic. “To fresh starts! To new dick!”
As we clink glasses I notice I do feel a little better. And a lot drunker. “You guys are the best,” I slur. “I mean it. I love you guys.”
Jeffrey pops up in his seat and holds his hands to his face as if he’s Home Alone like Macaulay Culkin. “Oh, my god. I have the best idea.”
Ricky rolls his eyes. “Everybody watch out. Last time Jeffrey had an idea he started wearing a fedora …”
“No, seriously.” Jeffrey sits up straight and rubs his hands together. He locks his eyes on me. “Ok, here’s the deal. You know how my family is a patron of the Philly Museum, right?”
“Patron. I love that word. I know your family is super rich and you can trace your roots back to the Liberty Bell?”
“Well,” he continues. “Lily, you should totally be my date to the Philly Museum Ball.”
I cough and IPA shoots out of my nose. The Philly Museum Ball is the biggest, swankiest event of the year. We are talking champagne fountains and celebrities. It’s the hottest ticket in town and impossible to get. All of Philly’s Who’s Who attends. Old school blue bloods from Society Hill rub elbows with rappers, politicians and the fashion elite.
I can’t believe he’s asking me if I want to go. Of course.
“Really?” I am jumping up and down in my seat like I have been electrocuted. “Really really?” I glance at Jen and Ricky and feel a stab of guilt. “Are you sure you want me to be your date? I mean, Jen and Ricky …”
“Oh,” Jeffrey waves me off. “Ricky is going with Steve already.”
“He’s a stripper!” Ricky sings.
“And Jen here.” He pauses to give her a wink. “Her current piece is taking her.”
Jen play punches him on the arm. “You make it sound so temporary. Bill is the real deal.”
Ricky facepalms. “Girl, no. His name is Phil!”
Jen pulls her thick red hair over her face. “Oh, crap.”
The table explodes in giggle fits and we take turns teasing her about the latest notch on her lipstick case. Jen chugs the last of her Watermelon mojito. She stares each of us down until we stop ribbing her. “Phil is a keeper.” She twists her hair into a knotted bun at the back of her head. “I am just drunk right now.” She takes a deep breath and closes her eyes. “Phil. Phil. Phil. He’s wonderful and sweet. And I am going to make this work. It’s going great.” She shoots us a saucy look complete with an arched eyebrow and a naughty grin. “He’s dynamite in bed.”
We drink a toast to her. I am happy for her and I figure if Jen has found the lid to her pot, we all have hope. “This is going to be great! We are going to have a blast at the Gala. Ricky is going with Stripper Steve. Jen is going with … Phil. I am going with the best non-date ever.”
We clink glasses and Jeffery grabs my free hand. “Actually, Lily. I really do need you to go with me. As my date.” I must look confused because Jeffrey elaborates. “My grandmother is going. She doesn’t know I’m gay. If our date looks real that will get her off my back for a while.”
“No prob,” I say, sizing him up. He really is cute. Such a shame. “I am totally willing to cuddle on you at the world’s most awesome event. Thank you so much for hooking me up.
”
“Cool.” Jeffery grins. “And thank you for helping me out. We will have to figure out some meet-cute to sell at the party. Like we met at the Mummer’s Parade or ran into each other at the Philly Flower Show or something.”
“Ooh, I got it. We can tell her we met at The Art Fest.”
Jeffrey laughs. “That’s not gay at all.”
“What are you planning to wear?” Ricky squints at me.
“Uh … my little black dress?” It’s basically the only formal attire I own.
“Absolutely not,” he groans. “That little Holly Golightly number needs to be burned. If I see that on you one more time … Girl, please.” He gulps the last of his drink and slams the glass on the table. “You know I got all the evening dress vendors and designers on speed dial. I’ll find you a free dress. You are going to look fanfabulous.”
“I am getting my cousin to do our hair and makeup,” Jen adds. “She’s done work for magazines and film. Between her and Ricky’s mad skills, we are going to give the models and socialites a run for their money.”
Me in a fancy dress. Me with professional hair and makeup. Me at the Philly Ball looking glamorous. I can’t believe it. “I feel like fucking Cinderella.”
Ricky’s all over that. “You want to fuck Cinderella?”
That’s hot,” teases Jeffrey.
“No,” I laugh. “I fucking feel like Cinderella.”
I get home around nine. The booze has worn off, but I am dizzy from the roller coaster ride that has been my day. I should be exhausted, but I’m too amped. I pour myself a bath and peel off my clothes as the tub fills. I kick my yoga pants and my tee onto the stack of clothes by my bed, now three days deep. Housekeeping isn’t my thing.
I stand naked in front of the long mirror on the bathroom door and admire my curves. I have nice boobs; small enough to be perky, big enough to get noticed. Jack Stewart has definitely noticed. His eyes have dipped into my cleavage on more than one occasion and I tingle at the thought of it.
Jack Stewart.
Jack taking his shirt off the first day I met him, after I spilled coffee all over those sculpted abs. He’s got that sexy V thing going on where his lower abs hit his hips. Not to mention his clean, manly scent and big hands.
I would die if he ever found out how much that belt smack turned me on.
I check out my ass in the mirror. It’s faded now, but I can still picture the spot where the bright pink stripe showed up across my right butt cheek, the night after that slap. I brush it with my fingertips, awakening the memory of the sting. As I climb into the tub, my memory shifts from that to the more recent catch of his lips on mine; the way our bodies melded together, our hands clasping, desperate. The way his hand felt wrapped around my fingers.
We wanted to devour each other.
He’s a tool, but I regret nothing. I’d do that all again, and more if I could.
But it didn’t. Honestly, it’s no big deal. One playful smack. One kiss.
One mind-blowingly intense kiss.
I just have to make sure nothing like that ever happens again. Boss lady Brenda would kill me, revive me and murder me again if she ever found out about my sexy shenanigans. Last year she fired the Chicago merchandiser for going on one single chaste date with a Macy’s manager. She makes the rules for her merchandisers and No Fraternizing tops her list. If I want the regional position, I need to keep my hands off of Jack.
I turn off the cold water tap and just let the hot water drizzle from the faucet. The weight of a thousand underwear boxes melts off my shoulders and back, but I can still feel that kiss. I can still feel Jack’s hot body against mine.
Focus, Lily.
I can’t have my libido ruin my shot at the regional slot.
I’m already well on my way. The department is reorganized and restocked and looks different from any other brand on the floor. I trained the staff on how to sell more Flash Fit and my volume is way up.
I am definitely getting Carol’s job when she takes permanent baby vacation.
And I am going to the Museum Ball. I just know I’m going to meet amazing people there. Last year Karl Lagerfeld went. So did Zac Posen. Who knows who I might meet this year? Who knows what the night could lead to?
I tug at the drain plug and stand. Cool air hits my naked skin as I towel off. I can’t help shivering, and my mind drifts straight to exactly who I’d want to be naked with right now.
I brush that thought off along with the water, toweling my body clean of soap and meddlesome memories. Tomorrow I need to hit that sales floor with a vengeance. I can’t waste any more time on Jack.
The alarm goes off at 6am and I am out of bed like a shot. I get dressed fast and look through my email while downing a blueberry yogurt. My phone buzzes. I can see it’s from Brenda and my stomach tightens in nervousness. I sent her my first big report yesterday about my progress at Hamilton’s Center City. I detailed all the changes and sent before and after pictures. I click to open the email praying she’s happy.
Don’t forget. The Fab Fall sale event starts tomorrow! First sale of the season!
Also, Jack Stewart emailed me about giving you additional floor space. Why is he emailing me and not you?
Make sure you are his primary contact going forward.
Brenda Barnes
VP Merchandising
I slam my laptop shut in a rage and pace my small kitchen.
What the fuck? Jack has contact information. There is no reason for him to go over my head. He knows I am going to be in the store today.
And why is he acting like he’s doing me a favor to give Flash Fit more floor space? It’s a store directive to set up extra fixtures for Flash Fit sale events.
Ugh. I am going to kill him.
Out of the corner of my eye I catch a glimpse of my schwag cartons, and a lightbulb goes off. Oh, I know exactly how to get him back.
I dip into my collection of Flash Fit manties. A free piece of merchandise goes a long way to building store relationships. Today, the Flash Fit manty-of-the-week prize will go to Jack Stewart.
I grab electric blue tiny briefs that work like a wonder bra on dude bits. And hell, yes. A jockstrap that’s skimpy and hot pink. I snap the waistband like a slingshot into my backpack, but then cave and take it out. Maybe this is going too far?
My phone chimes an alert and I spot an email from Jack.
He has sent me an attachment of Hamilton’s Dress Code Policy. Let me know if you need clarification on proper store attire.
I shove the jock in my backpack hard.
Oh, I’ll give him my dress code all right. In front as many of his employees as possible.
I get to the store at 8am, two hours before Hamilton’s opens for business. I belly up to the Security Desk near the employee entrance when someone else brushes past me. Mark, the visual manager of the Men’s Department.
“Hey,” I call to him as I finish signing in with security.”
“Oh, Lily!” He grins. “I’m glad I ran into you. I talked to the VP of visual. She says you can add extra butt forms and graphics to our next store order. And she wants you to get that done before Mr. Hamilton’s walk-through.”
“Great! I will put a rush order in. Plenty of time before the walk-through. Thank you so much.”
“Glad to help. Let me know when they are going to hit.”
The visual upgrade is working into my plan of creating a Flash Fit shop at Hamilton’s flagship store. When sales skyrocket, my design will go companywide, I’m sure of it. “Oh, Mark?” I call after him, as he’s about to reach the employee lockers.
He glances over his shoulder. “Hmm?”
“Let me know if you want me to hook you up with any of our merch.” I grin and flash the pink jockstraps. “I’ve already gotten Jack hooked.”
His eyes practically bulge out of his head, and then he bursts into laughter. “I’m not quite as, ah … adventurous, as Jack, I guess. But sure, put me down for some basic Tshirts or something. Tha
nks, Lily.”
“Anytime.” I grin at him, hoping my eyes don’t sparkle too much with pleasure.
It’s not just about humiliating Jack, either. I’m hoping my shop will be used as a blueprint for other Flash Fit displays in not just Hamilton, but other retailers.
It’s happening. I can almost taste my regional manager promotion already. I enter the sales floor and skip to my department like I am Maria singing on the alps in The Sound of Music.
Most of the lights on the sales floor are off and the department is dim, but I can see Mona dropping a sale sign on a fixture. There is no Jack. Not as far as the eye can see. I don’t see him on the floor and when I check the stockroom, he’s not there. Maybe he’s off today. Dammit. I am burning to present him with his new dress code in front of everyone at the morning rally he hosts right before the store opens.
Mona is in the Socks Department doing markdowns with a pricing gun and spools of stickers.
“Good morning, Mona.” I sound annoyed, but it’s not her fault, so I shift the tone to bubbly. “Great day yesterday.”
“Yeah, I can’t believe we sold that much. Thank you!” She embraces me and squeezes tight. The girl is a hugger.
“No problem.” I pat her back like she’s a puppy. “We’re going to sell even more today. Glad you are here early too. I’ve got stuff to do for the sale tomorrow.”
“Yeah, tell me about it.” She holds up the pricing gun. “Jack told me to get these markdowns in place before the store opens.”
I scan the department but still don’t see Jack. “Uh, where is he?” I stretch out the word he like I said the word plague.
“He told me he had to go to some meeting.” She dips into her pocket and pulls out a piece of paper and hands it to me.
“What’s this?” I squint at the note in the dim light.
“I dunno. He just said to give it to you when I see you.”
The note is written on the back of a sales figure print out. Jack has a black marker and a bold hand.
Miss Brook,
Set three towers in the main center aisle for tomorrow’s Fab Fall sales event.
The towers are in the basement.