Ah, what to say about Charles. He was an odd bird. His heart was in the right place, and he was purely benevolent, but his love life was highly abnormal and firmly in the strange category.
Raised by two loving and doting parents, home schooled, but sheltered from the world, with no real friends other than his parents, and his grandfather who had passed away when he was eight. Alas, Charles' parents died just after he turned 18 when they were on the way to a conference. They were academics, and while they traveled once or twice a year, it caused them a great deal of anxiety and they vowed to never let Charles deal with the dangers of the outside world. Of course life is full of risk, and things are GENERALLY safe. It was ridiculous, but in a bitterly ironic event, they both perished in a train crash that had no other fatalities when returning from Montreal to their small West Village apartment.
This happened when Charles was 18, right after he had graduated. Up until now he had only left the house occasionally with his parents for dinners at some nearby restaurants, and to take tests for high school that could not be administered at home. Always he was in for the test and out just as quickly to return home. Never talking or associating with any of the other students around. Into the classroom, eyes down on the desk, test taken, then out, quickly.
Now, he found himself alone in an apartment left to him by his parents, with a considerable trust fund. Money was no issue, nor was finding a place to live. To keep himself busy, Charles, who had been done right if only by his parent's rigorous academic teachings, but certainly not their social teachings, was a bit of a computer genius and was able to start up a successful computer graphic design business from home. Interacting with clients via email, and if absolutely necessary a phone call or two. Otherwise, he could keep to himself, living off of various grocery and other delivery services.
Now, flash forward a few years, and Charles is 24 now. It should be mentioned he's not too bad looking, and for the past year or two had started to feel the need for female companionship. A relationship was out of the question as the only people he had ever connected with were his parents. And going out on a date was just too much, how to deal with someone? Converse? Eye contact? Oh, no no no. But all the same, he had urges, and desires. And, if there's one thing that New York City doesn't lack for, it's fancy clothing and department stores.
So two years ago, Charles started to come out of his shell, if just a little bit, by leaving his apartment and going for walks, and going on "dates." He meticulously researched men's fashion, and dressed up quite nicely for his outings. He had also become adept at doing his own hair with kits ordered online and extensive youtube viewings.
So, what were these strange outings? Well, if we visit Charles today, we'll find that he traveled uptown to meet with one of his favorite ladies at B*******'s. Floor 6, women's wear, casual. She stood stylishly posed in pink sweater and gray pants. She was a manquin of course, but to Charles she was beautiful, and easy to get along with. These dates never lasted long, because there wasn't much to say, and he knew it wasn't strictly speaking normal. Sometimes employees recognized him, and he was sure he would be arrested or thrown out of the store, but often they seemed more bemused than anything. Today, while visiting Claudie, he made sure no one was watching, asked her how her day was, assumed her silence meant it was going ok, and then kissed her. He let her know he was doing ok, his business was booming, and he was happy to see her; that she looked nice. As a shopper passed by, looking at him strangely, he slipped out of the store, and quickly made his way home to get some work done. That was enough excitement for today.
And so it went. Sometimes he'd dressed up in his best suit and go to B***** G***** to formal wear for a black tie event. Sometimes, he'd done something a bit more metrosexual and head over to the meatpacking district to some of the more funky clothing stores, but they were smaller and he had been chased out of there by employees a few times. He missed Nikita, a rather striking mannequin modeling a torn t-shirt and faded and torn jeans in a particularly avante garde shop on W 13th street.
But all these "women" were casual flings to Charles. His true Love, Nancy, resided in an O****y in downtown Brooklyn. Every Wednesday he visited her. She wasn't too fancy, but always dressed smartly. Lately they had her in a floral top and a pair of tight jeans. Ah, here was his risky romance, for sometimes he would go further than a kiss and conversation. This particular store was slightly larger and at mid day would sometimes be less crowded. If no employees were around, he found he could spend up to five minutes with her! He's murmur sweet nothings to her. How great she looked. How happy he was to see her. What a great person he bet she'd be if she ever left her confines as a statue modeling clothing. And then sometimes...sometimes when he was feeling particularly horny, he might touch her. Briefly, ever so briefly, but a brief touch of her wooden chest, or glancing feel between her legs. A gentle pat on the ass. He believe she liked this, but knew this could really get him in trouble, so he was always very, very careful when getting so intimate with her. This would inevitably lead to him getting very hard, so he really had to sneak out of the store then.
Evenings after his dates always involved a lengthy session of touching himself, recounting the day's events.
And he thought he had been sly, thought their secret romance was secret. That no one knew he was giving loving touches, or what he thought of as loving touches to that mannequin. But all that changed one day.
After a particularly nice time with Nancy, as he was making his discreet and stealthy exit from the store, just as he passed the threshold, he heard someone call to him, "Yoohoo!" Not just someone, but a woman!
Oh no he thought to himself. Two levels of horror going on in his mind. One, he had been caught and might get in serious trouble. Two, he was going to have to talk, face to face with not just a human, but a female human. And as he looked down, he realized with horror, that he had an erection.
He wanted to run, almost did, but a small part of him kept him rooted there because somewhere in the back of his brain, he yearned for human contact, no mater how badly this might turn out. He thought of Chris Farley (RIP) dancing topless in that old sketch from SNL, willing his erection to go down a bit. Slowly he turned and found standing not five feet from him one of the saleswomen, an attractive black woman. Hair in long braids, deep beautiful dark eyes. Charles was struck by her body as well, noticing it would be ideal for a mannequin. Thin, nice chest, and she was dressed in her employer's clothing, looking quite sexy in a tight pair of jeans and nice black tight sweater.
Oh no, she was looking right at him, and his khakis weren't doing anything to hide his arousal.
She didn't seem angry though, just smiled, pinning him in place with her direct stare. "You think you're being soooo sneaky, but we see you."
Charles didn't even know where to start, "I...I...I'm sorry!" he whispered, but emphatically.
"Oh? You're sorry," she laughed. "Are you? Do you think you're in trouble?"
Charles noticed pinned to her sweater above a lovely breast, her name-tag, identifying her as Nadine. Through his terror, he realized he liked that name.
"I...yes...I'm sorry! I just...I'm sorry!"
"You know my co-workers wanted to call the police on you, mister." Nadine said, taking a step toward him, "but I told them not to. After all, you seemed harmless. I have no idea what you think you're doing, but you seem to really like that mannequin."
Forgetting himself for a second, Charles said, "Her name is Nancy."
Nadine laughed. It could have been a cruel laugh, or a judgmental laugh, but to Charles' limited experience dealing with people, it seemed almost delighted.
"Nancy is it?" she asked, her eyes alight. "And you have a date with her, what, every Wednesday? I've been watching you when you think you're alone for the last month.
Which bad on me, I guess for snooping on you. But, god help me, I am fascinated by you, mister."
Charles didn't know what to say, but he began to feel a bit of relief that he wasn't in trouble, although he had the feeling he wouldn't be seeing Nancy any more. That made him sad. But terror still mounted inside of him at having this woman, this living, breathing woman talking to him, and oh god, she had taken a step closer. "I like her a lot" he muttered.
"Hhhmmm, well that goes without saying," Nadine said. "Look, It's my lunch break, you look terrified, but come across the street with me to S******s for a cup of coffee?"
Oh sweet Jesus, Charles though, and hoped he didn't say that aloud. What was he going to do? This was terrifying and exhilarating. This...this woman, a real woman wanted to sit down and talk to him? About his, well, his love life he guessed. And while he was very, very happy with the various mannequin women in his life because they fit perfectly into his limited ability to socialize, this was a real woman. A large part of him wanted to turn and run, but, well. Look at her though! She was beautiful, and awoke feelings in him that he didn't know he had. His erection had gone down, but the idea, dirty as it was to his way of thinking, that at the very least if he could overcome his terror, this would somehow lead to a much better and intense session of masturbation in the evening.
How long had he been standing there, just staring at her.
"Well, mister?" she prompted.
"Ok...sure..." Charles said nervously.
What am I doing! he kept asking himself as he followed her across the street. They walked in silence which was ok because he was hyperventilating and wouldn't have been able to say anything anyway.
They entered the coffee shop, and Nadine told him to sit at a table.
"Mister, sit there, save our spot? What do you want? My treat."
Charles tried to get his breathing under control, and was able to muster up enough breath to tell her to get him a latte, large.
