Summer Job: Clothes Shopping

Another summer had come and I was back home again. My room was pretty much as I had left it. The stuffed animals, that just a few years before I didn't think I could live without, littered the bed and formed small communities about the room. I was much more a woman of the world (or so I thought), the life in the dorms, and then later with roommates off campus, had taught me what the true essentials were for a modern independent woman.

I reminisced about my college years as another was now done. Freshman year I spent the first half studying too hard and socializing too little. The second half drinking too much and studying too little. Sophomore year was my last in the dorms. I was still trying to find balance and boundaries then. I did well enough that for my Junior year I was ready to live off campus and still manage to be on my way to a four year bachelor degree. Living unsupervised presented challenges of their own and soon I had wasted my savings, which had become inconvenient in too many ways.

The most obvious was the food. The 25 cent meal became all to familiar, I even started dating more just to eat well. But too many boorish guys that just wanted to score was no way to eat well consistently. So I managed a part time waitress job at a fairly decent restaurant/bar. Even though I got pawed more than I did when going out on dates, I ate better more consistently, for free, without anyone expecting me to sleep with them for the meal. But it wasn't paying for clothing. Which is part of the reason I was able to get so many dates, plus the reason I was getting pawed a lot at work.

See, I had been fairly slim and pretty flat most of my life. I had constantly been teased for having no butt and no breasts, all through High School and much of College. My third year, around my twentieth birthday that all just seemed to change. I got a butt, hips, and cleavage. Then I was forced to stuff all that new figure into old clothes that must have been at least two sizes too small. It got me a lot of attention. Skirts and blouses that had draped off of me before had become skin tight. Loose casual wear started looking provocative. Seemingly overnight I was Julie Roberts in Erin Brokovich. Well not that bad or exactly Julia Roberts. I had become curvy, and to me, excessively so. I guess part of it was that I wasn't used to having much of a figure. I needed new clothes, but was just barely living as it were, so couldn't afford them. I figured I would work in my Mom's office during the summer and that would solve the problem of the wardrobe.

Of course, I should have known that Mom would be less than supportive. While laying on my childhood bed, I heard her pull into the driveway. Eager to see Mom I lept off of my bed, bounded through the house almost without touching the floor, bounced out the back door, sprinted up the drive to the detached garage, and enthusiastically wrapped my arms around my shocked and very reserved mother. She smiled stiffly at me and pulled away a bit to both look at me and get some distance between us. She looked me up and down, somewhat critically, grabbed her briefcase before we headed into the house making small talk.

While we were putting things away, she finally dropped the first bomb. "So you gained weight." She stated. She completely misrepresenting the fact that I had simply filled out a bit and looked more like a woman than a skinny teenager. "You know that you will never attract the right sort of man looking like that."

I wanted to hit the roof. I wanted to tell her how horrible that was to say to me. I wanted scream at her about all the horrible things that she had ever said to me. I wanted to get enraged and tell her how much that hurt effected my everyday life. I wanted to cry and run to my room. I wanted to take the car and leave for the night. I wanted to find a way to show or tell her how miserable she had just made me feel. How much lower that she always made me feel. I wanted to confess that I had taken a job as waitress, the one that she always made snide comments about for wearing a short skirt "for tips" that was always accompanied by the eye roll. I wanted to tell her that all the mean women, and any number of grabby drunken asshole men, had never made me feel as shitty about myself as she just did. I wanted to sob from my heart, as it broken into a billion pieces because my mother hated me.

What I did, was bite my lip and help make dinner.

The disapproval of my shape was not the only unpleasant surprise that would be in store for me. At dinner, in front of one of my sisters, her husband, and my stepfather, my Mom informed everyone that I didn't pass the security check. The summer job that I had worked for 4 straight years, was with a defense contractor. It seemed that the few peaceful demonstration I had taken part in while I attended college, made me a security risk. Embarrassed, shocked, more than a little depressed, I tried to explain that it was just a few "Save the Whales", "Don't Pollute", and "Don't test on animals" type rallies. Nothing extreme or subversive. If only I could file something....

I was cut off. "There is nothing you can file honey," my stepfather's patient, quiet tone, simmered with his anger. His disappointment cut me deeper than the multitude holier-than-thou comments that my mother had made in the scant hours since I had arrived home. "There is somethings you just don't do if you want to keep the good jobs."

There was nothing I could really say to that. If I would have tried things would have gotten ugly, or worse.... silent. My sister tried to lighten the mood to take the focus away from how badly Mom humiliated me. My brother-in-law looked like there were a thousand places he would've rather been. My mother looked vindicated over something only known to her. My stepfather seemed as if he wanted to burst.... but poured a drink instead. I just wanted to crawl into a deep dark hole and die.

Instead we chatted. We played cards. We ignored the giant white elephant in the room and caught up the rest of the evening. I was still stung and shocked by how bad it felt to come home. I wondered if it was too late to get some summer courses. To get away from this torment of family. But I still needed to work. I needed to afford to get a more appropriate wardrobe. I really needed a break from school or I would burnout. As the evening wore on I got more depressed as Mom made just the smallest comments here and there that brought my self esteem lower and lower.

When my sister left, she hugged me tight and got in the obligatory "if it gets too bad call me" whisper in my ear. I got the look of sympathy from my brother-in-law. When I came back in I made the excuse of a long flight and being tired. My stepfather gave me a "Goodnight honey" with a hug and look that told me that he was over being upset. Thankfully we were alright again. Maybe that was part of the competition my mother always felt with me. All for my stepfather's affection. I didn't know. I didn't try to figure it out right then. The out pouring of unspoken support bolstered my self confidence again. My mom would be who she always had been. And I just had to accept that.

I went to my room and laid down on my bed when I heard the rap on the door. It open unbidden. It was who I knew it would be. My mom had a piece of paper that she explained was a permission to use her department store charge to a certain limit. Additionally it would be a contract that had me pay it back increments after I found a job for the summer. It was her way of saying she was sorry, that she was trying to be supportive. I smiled and signed happily telling her I would get an early start and sealed the deal with a long hard hug. Too much in our relationship had and would go unspoken. I could wish our relationship would be different, but she was too set in her ways. God willing, I hoped I would never let my hurt show. If that happen, the damage, I feared, would be irreparable.

________________ The next day I woke completely refreshed and replenished. I looked through the paper for jobs at the kitchen table, and figured I would fill out some job applications first, before going shopping. First things first. It was more important to get things going than to shop. Yes I said it. I love shopping, but I could have tried on clothes all day and wasted it.

I had picked out some nice white skirt that were looser on me than most of my clothes, yet still they managed to show more of my new shape than I wanted. A nice blue blouse that was not as tight as most of my blouses were, but tight enough that it made my breast actually look more prominent then they actually were. This was all put together with a matching lace camisole and panties that didn't show seams, which tended to look awful in my too tight clothes. I finished it with a nicer pair of flats. Even with trying to put on the most loose fitting clothes I had, I still I got more than a few lusty looks. At some of the places I applied at, more than a few catty ones as well. It was for sure, I had to look more business like, before I did any interviews. I filled out the majority of the applications in the car so I wouldn't be subject to the glares and leers sent my direction.

My late lunch had me still full so I wouldn't have to stop for to have dinner. Plus the day had been emotional exhausting, the last thing I wanted to was getting trampled down more by my mom. I could grab a bite later. Maybe I could visit a friend and not make it home until after my parents went to bed. I had finally finished filling out job applications, I was ready to shop. It was the middle of the week and dinnertime in suburbia. The store were all but deserted including many of the sales people whom presumably were on dinner break as well. I entered at the shoe department. I knew that would be trouble. I told my self that it was an accident. It would be blatant lie that I could live with.

I looked licentiously at a pair shoes when an oddly familiar voice asked, "Can I help you Ma'am?" As I turned I was greeted with the sight of a old High School friend and track team mate. I caught myself wetting my lips subconsciously. He looked as good as he had years before, only more so. He was much more a man now. The broad shoulders had become impossibly broader. I had always had a thing for him. He had letters in Football and Track, and he was always much more interested in busty cheerleaders, not flat distance runners. It took him a second to recognize me but when he did I got the full dose of the 'Oh my God I didn't recognize you! When did this happen?!?' look. One that I was getting used to, and actually had started to enjoy.

We caught up, like old friends do, all while we checked each other out. I had always want to date him, and I did manage to get him to take me to some of the minor dances and parties when he wasn't going with anyone else. But never the relationship I wanted though. He regaled me with his tale of almost greatness. It seemed he had gotten on with a semi pro team out of High School, instead of going to one of the Universities that would give him a partial scholarship. It had provided him a chance to prove himself without wasting five years of his life with college. He had been sure that he would be on the fast track to the pros, if he could just get the chance to play. All he had done was injure his knee in the first month. He had lost his NCAA eligibility. He assured me was still positive he was still going to be a great Quarterback someday. He either lied to himself or lied to me. Either way, I smiled and told him I was sure he would too.

What he was, was the manager of the womens shoe department of a major department store chain. Yes, I know, Al Bundy comes to mind. You have to trust me he was by far cuter. Or don't. Although now I was glad that I didn't get tied down to him.... but I wouldn't have minded sleeping with him. Don't get me wrong. It is not like I had a lot of partners to this point, or really ever. I actually lost my virginity only a few years before. I tended to have longterm boyfriends. No random one night stands for me. But he was the fantasy boy from High School and was far from a stranger. So don't judge me. Or do. I know I felt pretty trampy with all the dirty little thoughts going through my head.

At any rate, I was there to get new clothes. So I told him the story about how my mom gave me her card, showed him the letter I needed to have a receipt stapled too and signed by a store sales person. His face lit up when he heard this. He told me he could be my personal shopper and that he might even manage a small discount for me if I helped him pick out some clothes for his girlfriends birthday while we shopped. I quickly agreed. Sounded fun and I would get more outfits for my dollar. We started in his department, the danger area, shoes. I picked out some cute but more or less sensible shoes that I could use for a job, then for later school, and the part-time job I would have to get. I was caught eying a sex pair of 4 inch strappy heels, he suggested that it never hurt to try them on.

He helped me into them, and I caught him at my legs. Which I thought always looked good anyways. He must not have noticed before, because I didn't have the big breast go with them. He helped me gain my feet, making sure to "accidentally" feel my butt as he put an arm around my waist to steady me. The extra 4 inches had me a bit unstable at first. Looking in the mirror, my butt that I thought had just started looking great over those passed few months, looked even better in the heels. My legs that were always long, looked impossibly longer. The swing in my hips as I walked was a bit much, but so were the shoes. I loved them, even if they did make me somewhere over 6'2". I wasn't into short guys anyway. I sighed as he helped me to take them off before we moved on. I was so into trying to figure out if I could afford them at all that summer, that I almost didn't notice him looking up my skirt as he fumbled with the straps about my shapely calves. I had made up my mind in that moment. If he asked me out for dinner, I was so going to say yes.

We went about the store picking out a lot of skirts and blouses. He took a break while I was measured for a bra and picked out a few that I desperately needed. He returned as I finished up with a small pile of bras and panties. Most were lacy and a little on the provocative side.... I have never been a fan of the common sense panty and bra. Briefs are for laying around the house, in my opinion. Which might be another reason that Mom had issues with me. She was modest. I have always been somewhat of a hussy.

After a while he would ask me if this outfit or that would be a good gift for his girlfriend. And I started to understand that he didn't have one. None of it was what a boyfriend gets a longtime girlfriend. It was all stuff a guy would want a girl to wear he wanted to sleep with. That girl, it seemed, was me. This made me smile inwardly. Maybe I was destined for a late dinner and some fun with a good looking former High School Quarterback. One that I had always had a thing for.

I had a good mix of clothes that gave me a lot of combinations of outfits. The prefect girl on a budget wardrobe. He was off checking the total on the clothes as I once more looked longingly at those gorgeous shoes. I had realized I would have to save for the coming school year and couldn't afford them. Not even if I managed to find them on the clearance rack. I smiled despite the knowledge there was no way they could be mine. That is when the familiar voice with an unfamiliar tone intruded on my thoughts. "If you model some clothes for me I can get you a bigger discount." His voice now betrayed his wanton lust. "I mean so I can see how they would look on my girlfriend," he stammered out the last part. He was trying to dangle those shoes in front of me, so he could sleep with me. That had become painfully obvious. Had he just asked, I think I would have said yes. But since he was going to bribe me, I wasn't going to say, "No, really don't get me anything. I want to have sex with you anyways!" I was far more practical than that.

The outfit was nice but trashy. A silver silk blouse, a black leather mini with nice lines that would be a great dancing skirt, a sheer thong and bra set with tiny embroidered roses on them, black pair of lace top thigh highs, and those strappy heels I had been admiring. The outfit he put together was made worse by the patent pleather red belt. Not completely tacky, but the store was a little higher end, so given what he picked out.... I assumed it could have been worse at a low end retailer.

He ushered me into the changing room with a guilty glance over his shoulder. He almost shoved me into a dressing room which drew a "Hey!" protest from me. As he started to close the door I stopped him. "I can't put these on," I waved the lingerie towards him, "without buying them." Ten dollar stockings and a fifty dollar bra and panties set was way out of my budget. "Besides I am not going to show you that much anyways!" I teased.

The teasing was lost on him. He looked annoyed at me, waving me off, spelling out his annoyance. "Don't worry about it. I will take care of it." He assured me in a flip demanding way. I was not all that sure he would. Maybe he was going to buy this stuff for me? It would be a long ways to go to get a date, a long ways to go for something that might not work out. "What the hell!" I told myself, "I never get much chance to get dressed up. Might as well have fun." He was probably just going to find a way to write it off I reasoned. I should have listened to my first instinct.

The stockings were nice, but they made me feel.... a bit dirty. They made me blow kisses to myself and giggle at the mirror. The thong and bustier, as it turned out to be, were not that attractive. However they manage to make me look curvier if that was possible. Clearly he had a body type that he worshiped. The skirt, blouse, belt, and shoes made it worse not better. I swirled my hips one way then the next. I couldn't stifle the laugh when it hit me. He had made me into what he had always 'dated' in High School. I looked like the perfect slut cheerleader. Right down to the school colors.

I took small steps of purpose out of the dressing room, wiggling out to confront him. "If you think I'm going out with you looking like a tramp High School cheerleader, you are mistaken." I kept going taking advantage of his bewildered look. "I always wanted to date you, and if we go on a date, I'll look nice for it. Not," I gestured with attitude at what he had picked out, "like a deluded whore!"

"Date?" Oh damn! I had just made fool of myself. I wanted to hide. And he hadn't even hit me with the shocker of his own yet. He leaned in and whispered in my ear. "I want to fuck you here." I could feel my mouth gape open and my eyes turned to saucers. "I want to fuck you because, you developed the body of a cheerleader whore."

I stepped back and looked in disbelief. His grin was crude and lusty. "I will get you enough of a discount so you can get those shoes. And I know you've always wanted me to fuck you. You know you've want me to fuck you." He paused with that asshole grin daring me to deny it before he finished off. "I've known for a long time. So what do you say?"

So there it was. The boy of my fantasies was a prick. I licked my lips debating, trying not to look directly at his hard cock straining against his slacks. If he got want he wanted and I got to fulfill a fantasy. I was no longer an inexperienced young girl. I had been in need of some fun after the long grilling and bomb dropping I experienced the night before. It was the 90s and I was a liberated woman dammit! If that was the case how is the only thing I managed to say was, "Ok"? And how was it that I felt so dirty like I needed to take a shower?