Christmas Shopping Erotica

I would never have expected to visit a shopping center at this time of the year. For me shopping has always been Gods punishment for those who couldn’t organize others to do the dirty work. I really don’t know why I feel this way about something most people seem to enjoy, perhaps some childhood trauma. Six-year-old boy found in toy store after closing, mother says, “I thought his Dad had him”. Dad says “who?”

We all have to face unpleasant duties at sometime in our life, my time had come. Excuses dismissed as unacceptable, having had no time to prepare I had offered the first that came to mind, I guess sore feet is a pretty lame excuse, pardon the pun. Within 20 minutes we were in the car, the environmentally friendly shopping bags neatly folded on the back seat had no idea of the torture they were in for. Of course her car needed fuel, what else could I expect. This car has the turn signal on the wrong side by the way. I hate driving the Mondeo, on sunny days the wipers going when I switch them on instead of the turn indicator, is rather embarrassing.

I like the summer, the southern hemisphere has its’ pluses as Christmas falls in the middle of “young ladies in less clothes” season. Looking is harmless, as long as the look is disguised as checking out the surroundings, and no further gestures, sounds or comments are made. As we drove into the service station I noticed a black convertible at a nearby pump. I like black cars, being a convertible as well, gave me reason to stare.

Returning to the car from paying the ransom, I felt the wife’s stare before I saw it. Head tilted upward, both eyebrows raised and pursed lips in a straight line, the punctuation mark being the crossed arms, 9 out of 10 for formidable looks. Raised upturned hands and a puzzled expression was my only reply to her nonverbal accusation. I must have done something wrong. “How embarrassing! Could you make it anymore obvious?” I heard that through the closed window, waiting until I’d seated myself, I said, “What?” This was the start of a day long trial of the innocent, based on purely circumstantial evidence.

To my surprise, there evidently was a young lady in shorts and a bikini top seated in the convertible. “I was looking at the car!” don’t know why I couldn’t keep the smile of surprise off my face as I said that; she immediately took that as an admission. My voice two octaves higher than normal didn’t help. The only sound in the car as we pulled into the mall was the wipers signaling another turn.

We got a space only just out of sight of the entrance, oh my aching feet. At least the atmosphere would be warmer in the air-conditioned mall than it had been in the car. My wife and I have been married for 35 years, that kind of longevity only comes from commitment and paying attention to each other. Sometimes we know each other’s needs and wants without having to be asked. There are times however when, something just creeps in below the radar. Apparently the new jeans my wife was wearing did just that.

We had only walked about a quarter mile after entering the building when, one of the million or so women there touched my wife’s arm and said “Congratulations dear.” Thinking someone she knew was going to keep us talking forever; I looked into a shop window at some clothes wondering when it would all end.

The sharp elbow dug into my back ended it soon enough. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ she hissed. I had no idea what she meant and said so, wrong wrong wrong. “You don’t even look at me do you?” “What do you mean”, I asked, meekly. With some residual anger and oddly some obvious pride she explained. Her new jeans still had the size sticker attached to the leg. On putting them on that morning she had viewed the front and of course her butt in the mirror as women do, but not the legs. The lady who took her arm was congratulating her on achieving the size 10s she had on. I have no idea what size the women her age normally wear; she always seems okay to me, when I look.

Only three or four steps later she demanded to know why I had been looking into a lingerie store window. I hadn’t really noticed, but I was beginning to wise up, “since you’ve lost weight you’ll need new girl stuff” simple, quick and complimentary I thought. She replied, “Don’t count on it.”

By now the long day was into afternoon, to my horror schools were out. Kids everywhere, loud, little people, since I live in a young area the families there are young as well. The cinema had just finished, Dorothy the Dinosaur or some such was showing. It was like a Grand Prix start, young mothers with baby carriages racing to reach whatever objective was next on their lists. I think each generation is getting better looking than the previous.  Most of these racers looked more like the young ladies who hold the umbrellas than drivers.  I commented to the wife that pushing carriages seemed to keep them fit. I didn't quite miss her reference to my waist as I dodged a baby Bugatti.

Some of those women were headed for the photographers, the ones who always set up in malls during holiday season. They take photos of the kids and babies in cute little settings which always look great, at least to the mom. I like photography; recently I had been talking about a new camera, and had been checking on prices of equipment. Being Christmas the young lady photographer was dressed as a Santa helper; love those little red fur trimmed skirts and the hats as well.

As we passed I noticed she was using a Canon camera, similar to one I had my eye on.  I mumbled to myself, “great tripod’. This day keeps getting longer I thought, as the wife swung around scowling at me.  I added an up-ward inflection in my reply, "What?"  Good thing I didn't mention her fantastic lenses.

JAWhite                                            Photo By: Cutiepie  Flickr Photo                                                                 Return To Main Page