It was almost 2 PM when Julie came back into the lingerie shop. She was coming from her lunch break, and like always at that time of the day, the only person in there was Mrs. Warren, the shop's manager, like always standing behind the counter and looking outside with a bored face.
Well, there was someone else, really. Julie hadn't seen him, even standing as he was in front of Mrs. Warren. An exhibitor was casually hiding him from the shop's entrance, and seeing the old woman looking with the same placid face as always in the same direction as always, Julie had supposed she was alone.
"I'm here" she said, but Mrs. Warren did not make any signal of being aware of her presence. Julie, not wanting to interrupt the conversation, looked at the old woman's companion with the corner of the eye and went up to her place, almost on the other end and facing the front door.
They were talking; she could see the stranger talking in a low voice with her boss. Always a bit on the sly, she saw it was a man about forty years old, which for her meant "old". Julie was 25 years old, and had a delicious dark brown flow of hair which fell upon just below her shoulders, plus a pretty face with delicate features and a serene look. Her sales uniform -a white silk blouse, a blue lino skirt knee-high and low-heeled shoes- gave decency and respect to her curvacious but discreet figure. She knew she had been chosen for the job because of that: she was beautiful but didn't make it too evident, so the shop's clients would take her as a partner and not a competitor.
Most of the clients were women, though once in a while some nervous young man went in looking for an "interesting" set of lingerie to buy as an intimate present for his girlfriend. Julie toyed with the idea of take care of them, but she had precise instructions of take those to Mrs. Warren, and she did... seeing more than once a vestige of deception on their faces. Mrs. Warren attended them with mother-like efficiency and it was usual of her to sell them nice sets, although nothing so audacious like the pieces some female clients asked Julie for. Sometimes the girl wondered if those men wouldn't have asked for them, having been attended by her. But so were things at work.
Because of all this, she was surprised when the man stopped talking to Mrs. Warren and walked in her direction. As far as she could see, her boss had not shown him any piece... in fact, she had apparently just listened to him, because Julie did not saw her talk to him, in fact, or so she believed. Now the old lady was still looking ahead, a bit tilted over the counter, sitting like always on her chair.
The man was now in front of her and Julie had to face him. He was not too ugly, though he didn't have a face to remember; only his black and penetrating eyes called for attention on a face that needed a shave. For a second, Julie was astounded that Mrs. Warren had not lost her attire in front of that bold looking man, as he didn't look any better dressed than his face. The raincoat, a bit crumpled, didn't match with the quiet summer day outside. She would had gone on thinking on all this, but he was looking at her in the eye, and at that precise moment, he spoke.
"You're Julie, aren't you? The lady told me so" he said with a calm, low and melodic voice, which didn't match his look. "I'm looking for something for my wife, and given that she is more or less your age, I asked that lady to let you do the sell, if you don't have a problem with that". His way of expressing himself was that of a gentleman.
Julie hesitated for an instant, as she looked at his eyes, and then reacted without saying a word. She turned her head looking for her boss's approbation... but Mrs. Warren seemed to be very concentrated on an empty coat hanger standing a few feet away.
"Don't worry, she has given her permission. She even told me about your good taste in clothes... and from what I can see, I must agree with her". Julie turned to look at him and he smiled, a smile not out of the ordinary. After a few seconds, though, Julie found herself smiling too.
"Well... of course there's no problem" she said, rearranging herself and returning to her normal behavior for her clients. "What kind of article you're looking for?"
"A bra, just to begin" he said still looking in her eyes, and then he waited, as if wanting the word to do an effect on the girl. Then, Julie felt herself blushing right through her ears. "What am I doing?" she thought, but couldn't help it.
"Hey, there's nothing to be ashamed with" said the stranger with a calm voice, and Julie's face blushed even more, because he had noticed. "Julie, be quiet, there's nothing to shame. This is a lingerie shop. You work at a lingerie shop, and you sell bras, as you do with many other things. A bra is a most important article for a woman. It helps a woman to present herself, to underscore her charms, to make her pretty... And of course I, as a man, also fancy to look at a beautiful girl, to see her bra through her clothes, to guess her forms underneath... It's very nice to see a bra through a soft, thin blouse... And you know that, and you like it, and that's why you like to sell bras in this place. Don't you?" He had said all that on a single breath, always looking at her in the eye, forcing her to look in his.
"Yes, of course... I like to sell a bra" Julie said the first thing that came from her head, which was what the man had just said. God, I'm looking like a fool. But it was true, wasn't it? She liked her job. "Yeah, I like to sell bras" she repeated, this time more assuringly.
"Of course you do" he affirmed, with a delicate smile. "I could see that the moment you walked in. I said to myself: this is a girl that can sell a bra, because of her trust in herself and her figure". Julie thought she was to blush again, but somehow she could repress herself. "I couldn't help but note you're wearing a bra below that nice blouse... a soft piece, but firm enough to put itself on display. It's true, isn't it? You're wearing a nice bra, don't you?"
Julie was still looking at the stranger's eyes, she could not change position to look at him better; he was imposing his eyes on her. What he had just said sounded a bit bold for someone we just met, or did it? And yet his stare was so clear, with a pureness he had not seen earlier...
"Yes, it's true" she answered.
"Of course it is. You're wearing a very nice bra. It's from here? I imagine you like to wear the clothes you sell, don't you?"
"Yes... it's one of ours" she said starting to smile, but she repressed right away. What kind of conversation is this? Her brow started to frown.