Monday Shop.

OMG...What a day...! I just wanted it to end... Does everyone [have] to insist on being and ass on Monday...? And after the weekend too...

On Friday night I got in a stupid argument with my boyfriend...over what movie to rent, and during make-up sex he came in me, when I expressly forbade him not to...! and I kicked him out in the middle of the morning and threw his stuff out of the window...

Saturday, I was gloomy and he didn't call, so I dressed up and called my friend and we hit the town hard...

I lost her somewhere during the night and landed a hunk... He came up to my apartment for coffee, and ended up shooting his load deep into my ass-hole when I asked him not to...he apologized and I kicked him out into the street and threw his shoes out of the window...he became abusive, and when I threatened him with a cast iron skillet, and gave him my middle finger--he went away.

Sunday...I just walked around feeling sorry for myself, and sat in the coffee shop for hours nursing a latte...a lovely man came to sit near me and we struck up a conversation, about nothing really, that was very interesting, and he came back to my place to look at my photo album...

He came screaming down my throat when we had agreed that he wouldn't; under any circumstances come in my mouth....

I kicked him out at around 2am and told him that he was not a nice man...he gave me the finger and I cried all night long.

Today I was late for work and my boss, was nasty to me all day for it...and the coffee machine broke down and I went to the bathroom twice as many times as usual, and just sat there praying for it to all end...

When the buzzer sounded the end of the day, I was so glad, but wondered why there was a queue at the elevator door, and found out that they had broken down, and we had to walk 32 stories down the fire-escape stairs to get out...I just wanted to go home and have a hot bath, with lots of bubbles, and salts, and light all my candles, and flood my space with beautiful fragrances, and subdued light...and just cook something easy, and simple, and have a glass or two of wine...and wait by the telephone...and watch a movie...in case he called...

I missed my bus, because of the elevator...and I tried to flag down a taxi; I suppose I'm not that commanding...they never seem to want to pick me up...and it started to rain, so I decided to walk it home, and I had forgotten my umbrella...it looked like it would be fine when I left that morning...

The rain was pelting and I walked through it with my head down, and counted my steps as I went, to keep my mind off--everything...

Suddenly there was a lovely bright yellow light shining up from the wet pavement, and I stopped, my feet soaking and freezing in the weather abounding.

I looked inside, and saw such lovely sights, of plastic models, frozen in glorious poses, chick and brilliant it their static way...frozen there in the lit window...beckoning me to come join them...I saw someone move in there...down in there...in the interior of the shop... On sheer impulse I went in...J

I ruffled myself back to life from out of the elements of outside, and found a solitary shop assistant attending...nothing.

She was young...at least younger than I...and she was calm, but not complacent, yet neither insistent, nor, deliberate...she just seemed...interested, and I liked that...

She was very beautiful, but everyone is beautiful at her age...she came upon me warmly, and offered to take my coat...

I didn't quite know what to do and so I just gave it to her...

She shook the rain off and put it to rest over a hanger and hung it aloft the coat-stand...

Her hair was nicely cut, and slightly eccentric, about her long slender neck...and she had soft well balanced eyes, and a ready smile...and she smelled like my bubble bath...she was slim, but her breasts were a little too big for her waist, but matched her buttocks, that were hiding quietly, stationed in quiet repose, there...subtly there; beneath her demure black dress uniform.

She smiled, and batted her eyelashes--and my heart leaped-- ...Like a trembling butterfly, taking to the wing, at the merest ...unnatural sound or movement, amid a cacophony of natural...disturbances...it was.

I said in a faltering voice..."Oh...I was just--"

She nodded, and chuckled...

I carried on, "...I just...well...I just..."

She put her hand on my arm...I melted and almost collapsed into the downward spiraling vortex which developed out-of-the-blue, as the very substance of the fugue which I had dragged in with me--drained away: She had pulled the plug on my well of tension; and let it drain out...

My head was spinning counter clockwise in cahoots with the northern hemisphere's universal demand...

She always stared into the porcelain bowl as she flushed, and verbally bade her logs farewell, in the best of the--Freudian tradition...always noting, incidentally, their anti-clockwise demise...

Abated: The attentive assistant, gently...and neutrally, said...abashedly, flashing an averted glance...

"You don't [need] a...reason, to come in...we are here for you, even if you decide we are not what you are looking for..." I wondered at her use of the communal pronoun coming from her...she was...alone...except for me--now...?

I was too vulnerable for that depth of communication right then, and decided to ignore the signs; I shivered and regained my composure and said, politely, that I would brows then--if that was alright...?

The young assistant bowed demurely, and moved-off a few steps in reverse, executing a perfect "about turn", that a drill sergeant would be proud of, and immediately busied her delicate frame, fiddling with something, or another, on her counter-top...

I strolled around, in a, languid, leisurely mood, as if I were totally nude, in a quiet discrete corner, of "The Garden", with high hedge rows, and open gates, held secure by large ferocious dogs--who loved me--in the middle of--absolutely nowhere, and this time, there would be no apples, or Adams biting into them, to get us kicked out into trouble...

I found myself farting like a sailor; and quickly, but nonchalantly, walking away from the infected area involved: My fine stranded hair drying out under the blazing warmth of the yellow halogen lamps... It seemed as if I wanted to claim the entire space as my own, by corrupting it with the smell of my gas, but all I could smell was new lingerie, and my farts were being assimilated into the greater air, hanging heavy with the newness of unsoiled fabric, and frankly, my ass couldn't keep up the pace. At one time I thought she heard me...but I played it off, by coughing...I think?

After shopping for sometime, I came up to her with an abundance of goods, and asked if I could try them on...?

She smiled beautifully, and told that of course I could...and that she would be right there in a moment, to assist me, and that I should wait for her in the communal changing room over there behind the curtain...

Before I had time to say that I really didn't need any assistance, she had vanished into the back of the staff-restricted area, and although I called out several times, she didn't re-appear or even call back...so I just made my way to the changing room...and once there; hung the garments on a spare holding rack, left fallow for that particular purpose, I supposed...

There was such a stark difference between the-out there-in the cold gloomy rain, and the-in here-of the warm, comfortable well lit peace--of a shop--all to one's own... Everything in here was fresh, and new, and bright, and warm...and the qualities of the newness, and light, and heat...seemed to lend its perfect essence of tabula rasa to her: The lend met her needs...halfway across the bridge, over the flowing rivers of her past, and the surging tides of her impending future(s)...in here...she had, at last...reached the perfect point, of decision...the absolute position of equilibrium... Here, amid the smell of the unstained...here the stain of her soul bleached, and faded... Here...today...she had arrived at the crossroads of her guilt from the past, and her probable outlook, of what was in store for her up, and around the bend. Her soul had irrupted from within, and covered her exterior...like a thin veneer of shellac, battling bravely against the elements...valiantly fighting to protect the integrity of that within... She was all at odds...She was turned inside out...She was bared to the core...

I started to unbutton my blouse, and the assistant floated in through the curtains, as if on casters, toting towels; a bag of indiscernible stuff, and a large stainless-steel bowl of what seemed to be bubbly, scented, steaming liquid, that resembled hot soapy water...?

She placed it all on the floor, then erected make-shift tables from collapsible supports and wooden tops stacked away in the corners of the room.

Accommodatingly, she placed the bowl of fuming bubbly water on to one of the rickety table-tops, and meticulously unloaded the contents of the bag onto a second; the towels being neatly draped over a waist-high empty rack... When she was all through, I inquired..." What are you doing...?"

She smiled excitedly, and said that she was at my service to help me any way she could trying on the merchandise...and what would I like to try on first...J?

I didn't quite understand exactly what she meant, but I decided to just play along and try to get the hang of it as I went...

I said, "Okay, I want to try the white blouse on first..."

She got really excited and said that she really loved my taste, then she moved into me, and started unbuttoning my top...

I said, "Excuse me...what are you doing...?"

She giggled and said that she was helping me try on the blouse... She wore such a sweet puzzled look on her face, that could not be easily turned back, but I insisted...

" Look, I am fully capable of unbuttoning my own top here, so if I need any help...I will call for u...Okay...!" She smelled like roses and fine spices that I haphazardly placed south of the border...or was it more into the Mediterranean belt...I didn't know?

She said that it was the policy of the store that the assistants do all of the work for the customer, and then, the customer would be freed of mundane tasks, thus more able to concentrate, in a finer, deliberate, manner, on exactly what they preferred...

I was skeptical, but allowed the help, in an unusually conformed temperamental way...and stood there, stoically, as the beautiful assistant unbuttoned my top, and pulled me out of it, in such a flowing, dynamic, seamless movement, that I dreamt of dancing the Tango with troubadours: ...You know the ones...the one's dressed in black...with those stiff rimmed hats on...those black stiff-rimmed hats...yes, those guys...yes--them!

Her hands were small, and nimble, and her finger nails were un-pretentious...and clean...

Her eyes were the color of dreams, and her breath smelled like...sunshine...

I saw some sleep in the corner of her eye, and I wanted to rub it out with my finger and eat it...

As she worked away, I could detect the aroma beneath her deodorant: In waiting, I sampled her billowing scent, and tuned my inhalation to coincide with the lifting of her arms...Efficient, pragmatic, non-judgmental conductance of her tentacles, flowing in symphonies of brilliant choreographed movement; measured, and metered, in precise attendance of the tempo to the music of my undressing... She smelled like Demerara sugar, Tupelo honey and sprigs of mint heated gently in a Dutch boiler, and when thick enough, poured through a strainer containing clove buds, vanilla sticks and rough bark cinnamon... Before the boil set, a pat of double cream butter thrown over the top...and let to melt in a few shakes of red wine vinegar...and when cooled...spread liberally over ginger nut cookies...This is what lurked beneath her deodorant...this is what her body put out...under her rose scented exterior...in the deepest pits of her bodily folds...and as she worked, and breathed...I drank her into me, and savored her presence like an animal of prey, gorging on the steaming corpse of a fresh kill...somewhere, in the dusty bowl of the Serengeti plain--perhaps...

She spun me around and I unraveled out of my top like a present out of its colored wrappings used as a strategic ploy to bolster-up a flagging low-point of a birthday celebration put together by someone other than the birthday girl, or boy. Nevertheless, it felt unnervingly...good, to be...so...dispassionately, treated...by a...stranger. Only people one has known all, or most of one's life...feel, with no qualification...that they...somehow...have the--right--to handle one thus...!

I was standing there looking at her...looking for some kind of...communion between us so that I could attack her and push her away...but there was none of that...I was...immobilized by my own inability to process this...? I was immobilized by my inability to find fault with this girl...I wanted to reject her...I wanted to hate her...I wanted to discard her...but she had given me no reason to do any of this...and it confused me...and numbed me...If I couldn't get mad at her, then I couldn't repel her...and if I couldn't repel her, then I was helpless against her...I was mute...I was bare...I was...vulnerable...and I was afraid...and numb and...and...curious...

I pulled my senses together, as much as I could, and reached for the blouse to try it on...

The assistant gently caught hold of my wrist, and said, in a soft voice..." I'm sorry but I haven't cleaned u yet..."

I stopped and muttered..."...Clean...?" The assistant said, " Yes, it is the store policy, it will only take a moment..."

I was flabbergasted, and astounded...and I stood there stationary, as she wet a flannel in the steaming bowl of soapy, bubbly, water that she had set upon the portable table; set up strictly for this purpose alone, and wrung it out, the bubbles generating others of its own kind, on the surface of the water...and with the cloth shook out, she grabbed me by the hair and pulled my head down and forward, and administered the damp, wet, soapy, wash: She, then seamlessly, and without conscious deliberation, or design, moved over to my shoulders, and swilled them efficiently, and without deference to me: Then roughly around my neck, behind my ears even...and inside my ear-holes, she went without reservation, pulling my head around, and my upper torso followed...I was dazed...and wet...and cleaned... One by one she raised my arms, and washed under my armpits, with such vigor that I shuddered, and with one hand still holding mine, she quickly rinsed the flannel in the bowl; and using her shoulder to maintain contact with me, she took her both hands, and wrung the cloth into it...the sound of the water made me shiver, and quake....

She shook the cloth out again after the rinse, and washed my upper body down...down over the entire length of my arms, flannelling my hands out fully to the very tip of my fingers: Placing my clean side to rest upon the spare-side of her frame, she adroitly repeated the procedure over the other half of my body...

I was drooling...I was intoxicated with fear of being out of control...

She swilled the cloth through, and wrung it out once more, and caught hold of my entire face with it and washed every grain of persona from me...and I threw up into the cloth...and she caught it....and wiped me clear...clear of the embarrassment of the act--reflex...

I was unstable on my feet, my knees were buckling under the release of tension, I farted, and pee ran down my legs...and the assistant smiled and held me...

She asked if I wanted to try on lingerie, I nodded yes...she asked if I wanted to try on panties and bras...and stockings... I nodded yes, again, and she held me and started to strip me standing there in the changing rooms...

I couldn't think straight...all I knew was that I was trying to try on clothes...and that I had to be cleaned first...

I was slumped over her shoulder now...as the she unlatched my bra, and yanked it, adroitly, from me...then my skirt went to the floor, under the persuasion of her nimble fingers, and the impelling implication of gravity, itself...it seems.

...An impresario fluttering with the touch of a butterfly...browsing the condition of my fastened buttons, and clenched zipper's teeth: mulling over the unlatching code...like a pianist's subtle fingers pondering the ivory: ...She had me completely off the ground, flopped about her deceivingly robust stature, like a rag doll strewn across the fluffy back of a teddy-bear in a cot of naughty toys...in a fireman's way. And I felt her warm hands on me...as she pulled my pantyhose, and panties off of my tremblingly yielding body...and threw them to the ground--unceremoniously.

My feet were placed calmly back to earth, and I stood up vertical once again...

My entire world was upside down, and I couldn't catch up with it...

I felt her washing me...washing my breasts; gently lifting their orbital mass, and soaping under them, then washing my full orbs, in circular movements, that made my teats stand on end. And she would carry on down...and down over my belly, inside my navel, and my head was spinning like a top...all I really wanted to do was to get in out of the rain for a few minutes, and touch something nice...and warm, and frilly...

I had the experience of the assistant , pulling clothes onto me and off of me...and stuffing my breasts into all different types of bras, and she was standing back and saying that this one is better than the last...and that I really needed to get this type...that it suited my figure better...and I remember her asking if I wanted to try on panties and thongs and I nodded yes, and I remember her scrubbing my ass-hole, and working the flannel deep into my bung-hole to clean it out...and ordering me to stand with my legs wide apart so that she could wash my pussy out properly...and I remember her insisting that I stand with my legs as wide apart as I could, whilst she...she worked away under me, opening up my vulva, and ever-so-gently cleansing the inner folds of my labial lips, with the warm soft tip of her cloth... And I remember that she produced an electric razor...and nodded to me...and I nodded back...as she shaved every hair of my womanhood, and made me bend over and touch my toes, while she attended my the circular hairs of my dark mysterious coral colored puckered hole back there...nimbly getting in there, and trimming my hay, with her stealthy electric scythe... And when she had defoliated me...and turned me into a pre-pubescent nymph again, she came around with her warm, wet soapy cloth again, and looked up into my eyes, from beneath me...from out of the horizon of my bald vulva's Mount of Venus...staring at me...through the glistening gap, of my turgid vaginal lips...and nodded yes...I nodded affirmative in echo, and she gently opened my labia...all the way to the top. My little nun's hood presented itself...and under my hood...hid the center of my wanton lust and burning desire.

The assistant pulled back my glistening pink nun's headdress. Reluctantly at first, the engorged hot, sticky, wet, head of my clitoris slithered out of its cave and peeped around shyly, like a sea anemone creeping out of its coral flute. I shuddered as the exposure of the world caressed my most sensitive--attribute. I could feel the air violently breezing...flowing ever so softly, across the very, very...bared, nerve ends...even the subtle heat from the light felt like a warm caress of the sun. A warm caress of a mother, maybe...comforting its ailing child, with the soft reassurance of warm, milk; predictable, and available to her off-spring, from the bottomless well of her bulging, lactating...sympathetic bosom. I could feel her breath on my clitoris...gently assaulting my sensibilities...rushing eagerly out of her panting lips, gushing over the stiffening arrow-head of my burning vulvas nucleus... I was transfixed...saliva was drooling out of my swollen turgid, lips...