Shopping is a Drag

"Are you coming or not?" she asked.

I hate it when she puts that pressure on me. Stay home, mow the lawn, yard work, clean up after the dog- or, go to her favorite monthly antique store sales. It would mean 3 or 4 hours of driving along the 'Antique Trail' and puttering through five to seven different shops. Sure, sometimes I'd find something neat, something that I would actually not call junk and that might look neat in our home. Going with her would mean I'd miss the big college football game, but to be honest, I really didn't care about the teams, or for the sport, for that matter. Decisions!

"OK. Hold on. Let me change shoes if I gotta go traipsing around a bunch of stores. I'll need to change into something else to wear, too. Thought I was gonna do some yard work," he said. From a distance, I heard her gruff mumblings of not wanting to wait, that she's going to miss out on something she really wanted.

I wondered 'What to wear? It's too chilly for shorts.' I had just picked up women's jeans and I was just been aching to wear them out. The fabric had a nice blend of cotton and spandex which molded and lifted my butt in a perfectly sexy and feminine way. The rear pockets had just the right amount of embroidery and a few turquoise-colored adornments to 'allow me' to not draw her scorn but still send a message to those who looked. Combined with my cute purple tight top and a zip-up bone-colored knit sweater, I was now changed.

What else to do? A soft brush of my hair and the BB cream with sunscreen, maybe just a hint of mascara, and my Nivea Frosty Pink lip cover, which I then slipped into my tight front pocket. A last thought, and I grab her mascara and slip that into my pocket as well, to be slipped into my car door pocket, just in case. Those two beauty products almost looked like I had an erection- how silly is that? I looked in the mirror- just subtle enough that she won't go into a tizzy but just enough that I feel special and feminine and a hint of how I want to be seen. Sunglasses, can't forget those, and I'm out the door. "OK, ready. Where to?"

Five hours and 42 minutes later, SEVEN different antique galleries and I'm about done. She thinks it's been a great shopping trip, but the back of the car suggests we have tons of new junk that will be donated later this year. "One more store, please. It's a new one and I was told they have some really great items, lots of mid-century décor. The girls told me it just opened so there may be some great finds! Come on, don't be such a Negative Nancy," she said.

I always giggle when she uses terms like that. Looking over the store, I was not too impressed. Join her or sit in the car? "OK, OK, I'm moving my tush as fast as I can," I said. Before I caught up to her, I refreshed my lip coating, applying just enough to feel the creamy moisture without making my lips too pink and obvious.

As we entered the store, we realized it's more like an old warehouse and we suddenly found a world of really exciting décor. Really nicely defined, the entrance had a guide to the different styles and periods from folk and primitive art to totally glam and glitz. Which way to go? We look at each other like kids in a candy store.

And then a sign of life. I heard his footsteps before he actually appeared. Neatly attired in a light blue fitted linen suit and pastel blue shirt with an ivory-tone silk tie, the gentleman approached and introduced himself to us.

"Well, hello and welcome to my store!" He flashed an amazing smile, his pearly white teeth gleamed bright, reflecting the bright overhead lighting. "My name is Lewis, I'm so glad you are here." He extended his hand and shook Yvette's hand firmly. He then turned to me and touched my hand gently. His touch lingered as he looked warmly at me.

"I hope you have plenty of time as this collection represents over 30 years of my travels and finds from around the world. Most everything you find here I purchased myself. Please do help yourself and enjoy, and if you have any questions or are looking for the unusual or wild, well- you just come grab me!" he exclaimed.

I offered our introductions. "Hi Lewis, it's very nice to meet you. This looks like an amazing store! Um- this, she.. is Yvette and .. I am Jean" I said. I don't know why I felt so odd in speaking. "Um, she.. is- Yvette.. Yvette is my..." I was tongue tied.

"Hi, I'm Yvette. I'm his wife" she said. She looked at me, then Lewis, then back at me.

"Ah, Jean (with French pronunciation), is it?" Lewis asked.

"That's how I was called when I was young; I was named after my great grandfather who moved to the US from Marseilles in 1907. But then my parents moved to Pennsylvania and most people just called me 'Jean', as in... the woman's name," I explained. "So, I just go by that now," I concluded, my head facing down with some sense of sadness.

Lewis was a few weeks away from a 'hard opening', and had already created the invitations he would soon mail to his many contacts in New York and the Atlantic seaboard. He had always enjoyed the history associated with the New England states and as he wasn't too far from Manhattan, he knew he could still find the 'big city' thrills when desired.

While Lewis had traveled the world for over four decades, his line of work- business hours and relations, required him to live in large metropolitan cities. Now, with a chance to relax and dial down his pace of life, Lewis had chosen a small, eastern coastal community to reside.

Lewis wasn't naïve, especially when it came to business. He knew that his analysis of the regional demographics indicated a sufficiently affluent population to establish a good consumer base. A bit of research also confirmed that his worldly assemblage of goods would be quite exclusive, especially when compared to the many 'fake' and reproductions that the unwary shopper would find in less than reputable antique stores. Lewis had a wonderful time setting up his store and unlike the hustle of New York, he welcomed the calm of smaller towns and a chance to find new friends.

Though we remained side by side for the first few rows, I realized that she had wandered off while I had puttered around looking at some old Mexican folk furniture. We both had our cell phones; like many times before, in the event we were absolutely unable to find each other, a quick call would bring us back to center stage. I was starting to have fun and wanted to keep wandering around. The building itself seemed to date back to the early 1900s, with massive beams, dozens of alcoves and side rooms, and floors of concrete, stone, and aged wood, which reflected the many reincarnations of the building. Each of the many showrooms seemed like miniature destinations that were uniquely presented exclusively to entertain and entice the patron to stay. I felt welcomed, but also like I was peeking into his private dwelling.

I had always been fascinated by neon signs- the bright colors, the designs reflected advertising of a bygone era. So I was more than thrilled when I noticed the glow at the end of one hallway. Following the vibrant glow, I wandered forward, drawn like a moth to a flame. Sliding a large wood door mounted on barn-door hardware, I cautiously entered. Inside, I was fascinated by the many different displays. Following the path, I wandered down aisle upon aisle and then suddenly felt lost. Not the greatest at following my own 'breadcrumb' trail, I tried to back track but felt like I was seeing new displays and memorabilia. I then saw one large sign flashing "Come Inside". I felt like the sign was talking to me and I ventured forth. Looking around, still no other visitors, no other sounds aside from some soft jazz music piped in through the overhead speakers, this seemed to be a personal show day.

Stepping around the corner, I almost knocked over several old signs. Though no one was around, I blushed, feeling like a small child in a china shop. No one saw and I didn't break anything, but I felt like I was being watched and worried that I was too clumsy to be in an area with fragile items. Stabilizing the signs I had bumped, I continued to walk to the sign and what I hoped was my exit path back to the main showroom. And there, finally, a door. Slowly touching the door knob, I felt my heart racing. Why would I feel any anxiety?

Feeling odd that I actually felt odd, I slowly turned the handle. A breath of slightly scented air flowed around me as I crossed the threshold. Though I was sure I was entering a passageway back to the showroom, I realized I was in an entirely new room. A series of bullet spotlights filled the room with distinctly lit areas, the rest of the room concealed in shadows and flecks of light. My eyes adjusted to the light and I saw sparkling lights flashing off the displays, filling the walls with 1000s of glittery specks of colored light. I felt drawn in and an urgent need to see each display. As I walked further in, the aroma of the room became more intense, a soft aroma like a dozen different exotic flowers. I inhaled deeply- it was intoxicating.

Chapter 2

Walking slowly, my eyes adjusting, I became aware that there were many other displays in the room. Not wanting to break anything, I reached for my cellphone to activate my flashlight app. Nestled in the tight back pocket of my Wranglers women's jeans, it was actually a bit challenging to pull it out. I realized that my tight top was resting over my jeans and that was why I couldn't immediately access my phone. Silly me; but the desire to have both my jeans and my top tightly embrace my round ass was too important to wear something loose fitting. I began to pull the bottom of my top up when, suddenly, I felt a hand touch me. I jumped!

A soft voice responded. "Oh, I'm so sorry, hon. I didn't mean to startle you!" It was Lewis. He used his phone to remotely activate the room's lighting and before me I discovered a display of delights beyond my imagination. Lewis touched my arm gently and said "I see you found my most fav room. Isn't this amazing? I was able to travel around the world for over 28 years as part of one of the world's most famous burlesque groups. I'd love to give you a personal tour and show you the outfits I find most thrilling. But...", looking around, a concerned look on his face- "where's um, you know- old... what's her name? You know, that woman you came in with. I don't want her interrupting us, now... do you?" And with that, Lewis squeezed my arm playfully. Lewis and I then spent a few moments scanning the room and listening intently for any hint of Yvette's presence or approach.

It seemed like we were both anxious and dreading that she would suddenly appear and ruin this moment. And the way that Lewis said 'old what's her name' and 'that woman'. I began to feel that it was Yvette who didn't belong here, that she would, as Lewis had hinted, disrupt the stories and memories he wanted to share with me. And I didn't want that, not at all. Inside, I suddenly wanted her away; it was a strange feeling of despair, that I wouldn't be able to have time to fully enjoy this amazing collection, that this moment of discovery would be cut short and lost forever, never to have a chance to experience again.

"I don't know, Lewis. I lost track of her. Maybe she's sitting down somewhere, I hope. I'd hate for her to come in and interrupt" I said. I felt odd, how I became aware of how honest my words truly were.

Looking at the room's collection, turning slowly, I realized that Lewis had kept his hand softly holding my upper arm. As I turned, staring like a child in a toy store, I knew Lewis was watching me.

"It's amazing, isn't it, Jeannie?" he asked. "You're actually the first person to venture in here; my store has been open for a week now, but no one else had ever come in here. Most of the men just stop and admire the neon signs and then leave. I knew when I saw you that you were someone special.

Am I right?" he asked as he squeezed my arm slightly and then he looked me in the eyes. The bright lights flashed and lit up his liquid blue eyes, an amazing color that so nicely complemented his soft pearlescant skin tone.

I was unable to speak. I just continued to admire his amazing collection. I felt flushed and warm but not uneasy or stressed; a better description would be... aroused. I licked my lips as I reached to touch a glamorous floor-length gown; the hues of bright pink, magenta with frosty white accents were amazing. Thousands of sequins bedecked the dress and as I ran my fingers over the fabric, I saw the lengthy slit that would expose any leg from heels to thigh, and a plunging neckline that would thrill any admirer. Without thinking, I took off my sweater; I thought my body temp was over 100.

"Are you OK? You look hot," Lewis asked me, a playful, wicked smile emerging on his face. He noticed that I was blushing, my body erupting in heat. "Here, let me get you a fan" he offered. He reached to a display case where he had a variety of Asian folded hand fans. "Pick one; go on. They're precious but very practical, flutter away, just keep your wrist limp and they work much better" he said. "I'll be right back, Jean", Lewis said. And with that, he skirted his way into the shadows.

Standing in the room, alone again, a sense of isolation swept over me. Stress was never an easy emotion to deal with, and now, with my desire to explore the many garments and memorabilia around me conflicted bitterly with the fact that, at any moment, Yvette could appear and end my discoveries.

How could I truly indulge in this when she could walk into the room and wonder what I was doing? I didn't want this to be just a transitory moment; I wanted to dive deep into all that was around me. I wanted to touch every garment, caress all of the lingerie and undergarments, to know every single detail of the shows, the venues and the actions of the many admirers' who were recorded in the photographs which covered several walls. Dammit.

The sound of my phone ringing and buzzing jolted me back to the here and now. The vibration rippled across my lower body and sent tingles across my flesh. "Hi, Jean. Where ya at?" Yvette asked.

What to say? If I told her outright, she'd be back here and not only invade this room but also take issue with my shopping interests. "Where? Am I?" I paused. She hated my lack of assertive responses, I know. "Well- I'm... it's a really big place, Yvette. Not sure I could tell you exactly where I am. Kinda head down the hallway to the left.. no, right" I said.

I knew this was probably ALSO irritating her, but now I was having a little fun in, hopefully, turning her around and around. Still, I feared that in spite of my mis-directions, she would somehow stumble upon this room and ruin everything. Then I wondered, just what was 'everything'? Most everyone who knows me knows what a fanciful imagination I have. Could I just be creating some crazy situation all on my own? Sometimes I feel like my creativity is a blessing and a curse. As I dwelled on that, repressed images of dark dreams and fantasies rushed through my mind- a million little scenes and sensations that were all interconnected with the tiniest filaments of mental threads. All were fantasies and dreams that were beyond the possibility of reality, though they all seemed so real.

"How about we meet back at the front of the store, hon?" I asked.

"Sure- fine," she responded. "Oh, I see the owner, off down the hallway. Let me catch up with him," she added.

"Oh Lewis... over here! Have you seen Jean, my husband? He seems to be lost", she said, loud enough for her voice to echo.

"Dammit", I whispered. I thought I had just thought the word but I heard the word filling the room. Time to go. "Dammit!" This time, I said it with intent, wanting 'the room and its contents' to know my disappointment.

As if in an effort to comfort me, I felt that the gowns and bedecked mannequins all heard me and offered me a warm reply "Don't worry... We will be here, waiting for you to 'Come Inside'". I looked around the room, trying to absorb every single item into my memory, worried and angry that I may never return again.

I found my way back to the main showroom and saw Lewis and Yvette engaged in conversation. I tried to not look disappointed or upset that I had been interrupted.

"Well? What did you find?" I asked her. I saw that she had brought a number of items to the sales desk including a landscape painting and a three foot statue of a nude male in ancient Greek style. Perusing the items, I had to admit that Yvette, for all her quirks, did have exceptional taste. Sure, sometimes she brings home some trinkets and odd items but somehow she puts it all together in a whimsical yet classy style.

Lewis continued to ring up the items, offering little stories detailing his travels and purchases of the décor. I could see she was making mental notes for each piece as she wrote out the check.

"Wonderful! Now, I have a favor to ask of you two. I'd just love to see how you display my ... well, YOUR items. I feel like I'm selling off my children! Isn't that silly? This is the first time I've ever had a store or, for that matter, ever sold any of my collection!" Lewis said with angst.

"Really, Yvette.. Jean... it would mean so much to me if I could see that .. they.. have a good home" he continued. Looking at the check, he focused on the address. "How about I come over tomorrow evening? Am I imposing? I am, aren't I? I know but please!" he begged.

How could we say no? I looked at Yvette and saw some hesitation in her face. Before she could counter, I said "Well, why not? Sure. Lewis, I think it would be wonderful to do that for you." I offered a small glance at her, concerned that she would back out. "Yvette loves to decorate and while your collection here is amazing, I think you'll love to see what she's put together. Many of her friends say she's got a great skill at interior design thought she wouldn't admit it. She's too modest to admit it, though." There- now she can't back out.

"Wonderful! How about 7pmish tomorrow? I'll close up at 6 and that'll give me enough time to stop by my condo, change and freshen up. I'll bring some red wine, too. You two like wine, yes?" Lewis asked.

"Well.. tomorrow? Evening? If you really want to. Jean and I didn't really have plans, we could have some appetizers", she said. She looked at me with an odd look of playful intimidation. "We'll see you tomorrow evening. You know where we live."

Chapter 3

Stressed yet delighted by the events that had just unfolded, I tried to focus on the road as I sorted through the past 90 minutes of activities. I was not avoiding conversation with Yvette but I was not inviting it either. I stole a few glances of her as I drove, my sunglasses shielding my true direction of focus from her. She dabbled with her phone, as usual, catching up on texts, emails and such. Part of me wanted her to say something, to ask questions regarding the store .. and about Lewis. The other part of me wanted to just reserve my real thoughts to myself and not create confrontation.

"So?" she said, quite blandly. She turned her head slightly, but I couldn't tell what she was thinking. "What did you think?" she asked. Hearing no response, she added "...of the store, and Lewis. Could you imagine how he could have found all that furniture and art work? He should write a book and catalog all of the items. I bet that would be a fascinating story, doncha think, Jean?"

I looked at her, somewhat dumbfounded. I always fear the worst and then feel silly for over-stressing about every little thing. "Well. It was pretty amazing, honey, I didn't expect to see half of what I saw in there. He has amazing taste. There must be hundreds of thousands tied up in his collections" I said.