with her or something. Suzanne said Larry was off riding ATVs with his friends. So why not?
I never was in a place like this before. First of all, the way it smelled, which was all flowery from these baskets of potpourri they put all over the place, and perfumes and soaps. Everyplace you look there’s lace pillows and satin and flowers. Real feminine. There’s negligees and silk robes and these slippers with feathers all over the front. If you want to look at yourself, it’s not a regular mirror, they’ve got this mirror with gold all around the edges.
I’ll give you an example. Say you wanted a bra. You wouldn’t just look for your size and go pay for it. They’ve got twenty million styles, all different colors, with lace and pearls stitched on in different places, all hanging on these special gold hangers, and if you can’t find something you like hanging up, they have special drawers with sachets and more bras in there. They even have that old-fashioned kind, like Madonna sometimes wears, that’s strapless but it fastens in the front and it goes all the way to your waist. I wouldn’t wear something like that, but it looks really good on her.
“Come on, Lydia,” Suzanne says to me. “Let’s get you a pair of panties. You choose anything in the store. My treat.”
I tell her I don’t need anything. I mean, these panties cost nine, ten dollars. Each. “I got enough underwear,” I tell her.
“But nothing like this,” she says. “You feel different when you’re wearing lingerie like this. You feel beautiful.”
“It’s not like anybody’d even see it,” I say. “Except my mom, and she’d just figure me having underwear like that must mean I was going all the way with someone and then she’d give me a hard time about it.”
“So hide them,” Suzanne says. “Let it be your secret. Everybody needs a few secrets in their drawer.” That’s when she shows me the garter belt. “This is what I’m getting,” she says.
I didn’t even know what it was exactly, except you see them in pictures sometimes. Only I don’t look at those kind of magazines.
She tells me it’s how they held up their stockings in the olden days. Before panty hose.
It makes me feel kind of weird, knowing she’s getting the garter belt. It wasn’t the way I pictured her.
“You’ll understand someday, Liddy,” she says to me. “When you meet someone.”
It was pretty. It had these little pink roses stitched on the place where you hitched the stockings on, and little silk ribbon bows. They wrapped it up in pink tissue paper for her and put it in this little box with flowers on it, like it was a present for someone. Only it was for her.
There was this man and woman there at the store, same time as us. About the same age as Suzanne and Larry. She wasn’t as pretty as Suzanne, but you could tell he was crazy about her. He kept picking out bras and stuff for her to try on. I mean, he’d run his fingers over the fabric like he was testing it or something. You almost felt embarrassed watching him, it seemed so personal. But you also had to envy her. Knowing there was someone that felt that way about her. Even though she was a little chunky.
They were in front of us at the counter where you pay. I guess the stuff she bought must’ve come to a couple hundred dollars, the amount of panties and stuff she was getting. After they added it all up, he just handed the girl his charge card. She kissed him—french kissed—right there in the middle of the store.
“He really knows how to treat a woman,” Suzanne said to me. “But I bet you they aren’t married.”
CHUCK HASKELL
T HURSDAY AFTERNOONS, L ARRY and I used to go down to the Y, play a little pickup basketball, take a shower, go out for a couple of beers. It wasn’t a team. Just a bunch of guys blowing off a little steam.
I remember this one time in particular. We’re sitting in the sauna after the game. Us and these other two guys we used to play with
I never was in a place like this before. First of all, the way it smelled, which was all flowery from these baskets of potpourri they put all over the place, and perfumes and soaps. Everyplace you look there’s lace pillows and satin and flowers. Real feminine. There’s negligees and silk robes and these slippers with feathers all over the front. If you want to look at yourself, it’s not a regular mirror, they’ve got this mirror with gold all around the edges.
I’ll give you an example. Say you wanted a bra. You wouldn’t just look for your size and go pay for it. They’ve got twenty million styles, all different colors, with lace and pearls stitched on in different places, all hanging on these special gold hangers, and if you can’t find something you like hanging up, they have special drawers with sachets and more bras in there. They even have that old-fashioned kind, like Madonna sometimes wears, that’s strapless but it fastens in the front and it goes all the way to your waist. I wouldn’t wear something like that, but it looks really good on her.
“Come on, Lydia,” Suzanne says to me. “Let’s get you a pair of panties. You choose anything in the store. My treat.”
I tell her I don’t need anything. I mean, these panties cost nine, ten dollars. Each. “I got enough underwear,” I tell her.
“But nothing like this,” she says. “You feel different when you’re wearing lingerie like this. You feel beautiful.”
“It’s not like anybody’d even see it,” I say. “Except my mom, and she’d just figure me having underwear like that must mean I was going all the way with someone and then she’d give me a hard time about it.”
“So hide them,” Suzanne says. “Let it be your secret. Everybody needs a few secrets in their drawer.” That’s when she shows me the garter belt. “This is what I’m getting,” she says.
I didn’t even know what it was exactly, except you see them in pictures sometimes. Only I don’t look at those kind of magazines.
She tells me it’s how they held up their stockings in the olden days. Before panty hose.
It makes me feel kind of weird, knowing she’s getting the garter belt. It wasn’t the way I pictured her.
“You’ll understand someday, Liddy,” she says to me. “When you meet someone.”
It was pretty. It had these little pink roses stitched on the place where you hitched the stockings on, and little silk ribbon bows. They wrapped it up in pink tissue paper for her and put it in this little box with flowers on it, like it was a present for someone. Only it was for her.
There was this man and woman there at the store, same time as us. About the same age as Suzanne and Larry. She wasn’t as pretty as Suzanne, but you could tell he was crazy about her. He kept picking out bras and stuff for her to try on. I mean, he’d run his fingers over the fabric like he was testing it or something. You almost felt embarrassed watching him, it seemed so personal. But you also had to envy her. Knowing there was someone that felt that way about her. Even though she was a little chunky.
They were in front of us at the counter where you pay. I guess the stuff she bought must’ve come to a couple hundred dollars, the amount of panties and stuff she was getting. After they added it all up, he just handed the girl his charge card. She kissed him—french kissed—right there in the middle of the store.
“He really knows how to treat a woman,” Suzanne said to me. “But I bet you they aren’t married.”
CHUCK HASKELL
T HURSDAY AFTERNOONS, L ARRY and I used to go down to the Y, play a little pickup basketball, take a shower, go out for a couple of beers. It wasn’t a team. Just a bunch of guys blowing off a little steam.
I remember this one time in particular. We’re sitting in the sauna after the game. Us and these other two guys we used to play with
Similar Books
