Gifted Grifter #2: The Traveling Salesgirl
I was anxious to take advantage of the possibilities I was afforded by my new mind-reading machine, but I had promised my student assistant, Jessie, that I wouldn't quit my job at the Department of Defense until she finished collecting her dissertation data. I didn't want to get screwed over by my leaving before she was done, especially after the great sex we had.
She had asked for three weeks to finish up; part of the deal was that we agreed not to have any further sexual relations until I was no longer her boss. The weekend after the third week, I had made arrangements to stay at my family's cottage in the lake country north of the city, thinking I might take Jessie (who had recently dumped her loser boyfriend) up with me. But on Thursday of the third week, Jessie told me that she wasn't quite done yet; it was going to take her until the following Tuesday or Wednesday at least before she could wrap it up. That was fine, I wasn't really surprised, but it meant I was going up to the cottage alone. I was a little disappointed, but I had spent a lot of good times up at that cottage; if nothing else I would get some nice relaxation. But I tossed my mind-reading hat into the car, just in case.
I arrived late Friday night. I turned on the main power switch and started airing out the musty smell that accumulates when the cottage goes unused for a week or two. I opened the liquor cabinet and saw that we were quite low on Canadian Club, my drink of choice. I poured a couple of drinks with the diet Sierra Mist I had brought along, gazed at the stars, listened to my IPod a bit, and went to sleep.
I slept in late Saturday morning, so the noise of outboard motors revving up to tow water skiers was already echoing across the lake when I got up. I looked out the windows and saw a couple of boats pulling skiers, and a couple more towing inner tubes, running in circles around the lake. It was hard to tell from as far away as I was, but it looked like at least one of the skiers was a shapely young woman in a teeny bikini; at least I hoped it was a woman, I was going to have to be careful not to start hitting on underage teens around here. Either way, it seemed that the best course of action was to head to the beach with my hat and see what I might find.
I went back inside to look for some breakfast, and realized that besides drinking up the CC the night before I had no milk or breakfast food; whoever had last been at the cottage hadn't left much behind for the next person. I was going have to run to Poser's right away that morning for supplies.
Poser's was the center of activity in the lakes region. There were three lakes in close proximity, with a major highway intersection between them, and right on that corner was Poser's. It had started out as just a gas station and mini-mart, but the family that built it had the foresight to buy all of the other available frontage at the intersection. Thus assured that no competition sprung up nearby, and with the next town of any size 20 miles away, they had done very well with their mini-monopoly on the region. Poser's was now a mini-grocery store, liquor store, video store, bait shop, and boat shop all in one. Thus, anyone that needed anything went to Poser's, and most of the time they would have what you wanted. Whether you wanted to pay the price they were charging for it was sometimes another matter.
I had to dress to go to the store, of course, and was planning to come back and change for the beach. I don't really like running around in a swim suit when I'm not at the lake, however, so I grabbed my clothes from the day before, which were still lying around the cottage, and threw them on to run to Poser's. What happened next only came to be because, by chance of laziness, I was not dressed like someone who was about to spend their day at the beach.
I drove to Poser's and parked my car. I had been listening to my IPod through my car's stereo system—no good radio stations in the middle of nowhere—and so I stopped to unhook my equipment before running in to the store. As I was pulling wires, I became aware of a red Grand Prix pulling up in the spot next to me. I looked over and saw that the driver was a young female, with blonde hair cut right to shoulder length, wearing a long-sleeved blouse made from a silky-like material. She wasn't dressed for the beach, either.
She opened her door and got up, but rather than walking in she lingered by her open door and started fumbling for something in the back seat of her car. I saw now that she was wearing a tight, pencil skirt that ended a good six inches above her knees. And because her skirt was so short, I noticed her thighs—her thighs were REALLY skinny. She had to be really young—no more than 22 or 23 I figured—because thighs that straight and thin are extremely rare, and most of the girls that have them are really young and haven't fully grown into their adult/post-childbirth bodies yet (fortunately).
Then I figured out what she was doing; she had driven the car wearing comfortable flip-flops, but now was putting on heels before proceeding into the store. She had to be there on business of some sort; I thought. A girl that young, driving around in the middle of nowhere, my guess was that she was a traveling sales rep. It was the kind of job that a girl might take right after graduating from college, needing to start somewhere, and abandon as soon as a better job came along. It was only weeks after most colleges held their commencements; in might very well be her first month on the job. And she was so skinny and cute, my mouth was beginning to water.
Remember my hat, which I had conveniently left on the passenger seat of my car, I donned my mindreading machine and looked over in her direction. I quickly learned that she was working for the alcohol distributor that supplied Poser's, and was going to meet with someone named Frank to try to talk them into picking up a new designer malt beverage they were selling. I also saw that she had three more stops to make that day, even though it was Saturday, and that she was none to happy about it.
Impulsively, I got out of my car and waved in her direction.
"Hey, you look like you're working too," I said. "Are you supposed to be meeting with Ed now, too?"
She turned towards the sound, not expecting that someone would be talking to her, and with her second heel still not completely on right. "No, I'm here to talk to Frank" she said. I could feel her curiosity as to who or what I was, but she was being careful, being a woman traveling alone.
"Frank, is that the liquor guy?" I asked. "I'm Rick", I lied, "with Lakeside sports; we're the bait and lure supplier." Damn, I thought, this could be bad. Yeah, it's plausible that a bait salesman might be here, but I don't know very much about fishing and I certainly couldn't be sure that any other places on her list would sell any. I wasn't sure I could keep this story up. I definitely HAD to remember that I had told her that my name was Rick (it isn't).
"Hi," she said, slamming her door and walking around to the front of the car, waiting for me to come alongside before walking in. She was thinking she would rather go in with someone else than have to initiate contact in the store alone. "I'm Lauren from Northwoods Distributing. We supply beer, wine, and liquor."
"Ooh, excellent," I laughed, "I bet you get much better samples than I do!"
"Not so much," she laughed back, "I can sell it, but I can't drink on the job!"
We walked in together chatting breezily. She went to the service counter to meet with Frank; I excused myself and headed over to the fishing section, saying I was looking for Ed. I saw her go to a back area with Frank, at which point I ducked into the fishing aisle, picked up a couple of colorful-looking lures and a pocket knife, and quickly paid for them at the back register. These would serve as my samples. Then I wandered out to the main floor, and nonchalantly poured myself a cup of coffee from the self-service bar—which was strategically placed just in front of the door. A few minutes later she came back out, shook hands with Frank and started heading out.
I headed for the checkout line, and called out "Hey Lauren, can I buy you a cup of coffee?"
