Like most men, I pretend to spend very little time on my looks and I tend to walk right by all the millions of cosmetics stalls in departments stores and malls. But, a few years ago a new shop at the Mall caught my eye. Well, actually it caught my nose, as the most delightful fragrances wafted out. I did my best to ignore it a few times, but finally, I was drawn in the by the perfume of lavender, lemon, rosemary, basil and a hundred other herbs, spices, fruits an flowers that had been used to make the most amazingly colorful array of soaps, shampoos, conditioners, bubble baths, moisturizers, you name it.
A number of other shoppers, almost all young women, were similarly drawn in and there we all stood, picking up honey soaps and almond-vanilla creams. I was drawn to a wall that advertised ‘For Him” products and was especially drawn to a shaving cream that claimed to tame that wild, manly beard. I am not sure I have a wild or manly anything, but the slogan worked and I bought a tub of the stuff.
The stuff really did work. Having suffered shaving burns on my chin and neck for years, this cream really did result in a smoother shave with no flaming redness afterwards. I was sold, and have been a monthly customer for their shaving cream, and every now and then I buy some blissfully luxurious item like a magnolia – rosemary bubble bath (after a tough day at work), or a mint shampoo (for falling hair!)
One day I reached for my supply of shaving cream when I heard a lively voice next to me.
‘How’s our favorite male customer doing? That shaving cream still working for you?” It was Jenny, the regular salesgirl on Saturday mornings. To refer to Jenny as a girl though was an insult; she was all woman. Her red hair was brushed away from her face, but tended to fly back in front of her gray-green eyes. I spent a lot of time looking into her eyes during our regular little pre-sale chats to keep myself from being drawn past her long neck to her most noticeable features, her generous, and very unattainable, breasts. Her sales uniform included a white, button-down shirt, but Jenny invariably left one button more than her colleagues undone to accommodate her boobs. This always left a titillating stretch of creamy cleavage for all to admire. She was by no means a slim woman, but thanks to the measurements of her bust and hips, she remained a perfectly proportioned woman.
“Oh great, thanks Jen,” I mumbled turning away from her to grab my cream. I knew that I could not keep my eyes above her neck long.
“Why don’t you try this one, we call it Morning Shave. It is for sensitive skin. Do you find that shaving in the morning burns?”
“It used to, but this regular one works just great for me. I just used it this morning, and see, no burns or breakouts,” I said holding my face up for her as if I was a face model at a photo shoot.
“It smells great on you,” she said bringing her face close to my shoulder.
Jenny surprised me by running her cool hand down the surface of my cheek. She was close enough to brush one firm breast against my arm. I started counting her delightful freckles on her cheeks and nose to keep from dropping my gaze.
“You do have great skin, you know?” she said, blushing slightly, “most women would die for that complexion.” She left her hand on my cheek for a brief second.
“They’d hate to have to shave every morning, though,” I quipped hoping to brush off the unexpected, and very original, compliment. Most women mentioned my sense of humor or my mind, a few noticed my eyes; none had ever said anything about my skin.
“You need anything else?” she asked quickly, breaking the awkward silence after my failed attempt to lighten things. “Here, you have to try this new shampoo. It has spirula, a seaweed, they use in Japan for hair conditioners. Or, how about a massage bar. These things are great …you’ve got to try one. Here this one is called Cocoa Delight,” she placed a warm, creamy soap-like bar in my hand, “it actually is made of chocolate and milk blended with cocoa butter. Don’t you just love the rich smell of chocolate? This one is perfect for a sensual massage. You will love it!”
It looked like soap to me, but it did smell great.
“You rub it onto the person you are massaging as if it was soap, but it feels more like a lotion or a massage oil on their skin.”
I wasn’t sure, but it seemed like Jenny was talking faster, making her sound like she was making a sales pitch for used cars on late night TV.
I placed the bar back in her soft hands. “Actually, I am not into massages. They make me …I don’t know, they make me kinda tense,” I admitted running my hand through my hair. I always hated admitting this. It was like saying you hated babies – people automatically assumed you must have some psychiatric disorder.
“Aw, come on …really?” she asked, incredulous as anyone else I had mentioned this to.
“Yeah, really. Something about being afraid of vulnerability, I guess. Maybe it’s a man thing, like Morning Shave.” I said, again trying to brush it off with humor. Again failing miserably.
Jenny smiled brightly, her eyes sparkling, “Everyone I know loves my massages, men and women. It’s something I do on the side for all my friends. And I use all these products, especially the …” she paused for a second as she looked at the massage bar display. “I tell you what,” she said softly, looking me right in my eyes, “you pick up any one of these, and bring it over to my place tomorrow afternoon, and I will show you how relaxing a really good back-rub can be. Deal?”
I was sure I had heard wrong. This gorgeous specimen of femininity was offering me a massage on a Sunday afternoon. Before I could say anything, she was bent over the sales desk writing on a slip of paper. I looked at her round ass, her red skirt stretched tight over her delectable hips. She turned around and put the slip in my hand.
“See you there at around 2, tomorrow?” she said before taking my purchases and ringing them up.
I spent the rest of that day and much of the night replaying those few minutes. The sane part of me reminded me that she had said that she did this for all her friends, male and female, and so surely that was all I was here. A new friend. She could not possibly be screwing all her friends, male and female, so she could not possibly have been trying to insinuate something, even if she did think I had smooth skin.
Unfortunately, the horny and certifiably insane part of me tends to be louder, and kept replaying the way she had touched my face and her smile and her cleavage …and generally that was the clinching argument.
