The O Intention(13)

With my already overburdened haul of heavy bags, I turn and enter the shop. Inside, I’m bombarded with scraps of lace, satin and cotton—all beautiful and each one expensive. I lower my bags to the floor and step towards the closest table. My attention zeros in on a small pile of pink lace V-string panties. Ninety-five percent of my underwear is pink. I love the color and as much as it kills me to even think it; I’m going to have to go with sexier colors today—like black or red. Jesse looks like the kind of guy that enjoys black or red.

I ignore the way the shop assistants stare and eye me suspiciously. Clearly, I’m out of my zone. I glance around and take in all of the other customers— young women in fancy dresses accompanied by old men in business suits… Gold Digger by Kanye West and Jamie Foxx springs to mind, and I even hum a snippet of the tune. In all seriousness, I contemplate leaving the store, until a girl in yoga pants and a tank top jogs through the door. With her pink headphones in her ears, she ignores everyone else and searches through racks of underwear with a smile on her face. Well, now I don’t feel so out of place in my jean shorts and loose tee that proudly states ‘I’m a Kellan Kyle groupie’. I try not to wear my book themed shirts out, but I’m particularly fond of this one; so fond, in fact, it’s fading terribly.

On a rack in the far corner, I see a sexy pair of strappy black panties with matching bra. Without a thought, I saunter over to them, and the first thing I touch is the price tag. Surprisingly, they’re not that expensive—easily affordable with a pay check like mine. The bigger problem lies with the red pair on the rack next to it. I look between them, trying to decide on a color. Red or black? Black or red? Despite Jesse’s warning: “There’s my number. Don’t text me but call tomorrow only to confirm a time for lunch.” I open up messages and start a new conversation with him.



To: Jesse. Time: 9:00 a.m.

Red or black?



He texts back almost immediately.



From: Jesse. Time 9:01 a.m.

I thought I told you not to text me.



I blow air out of my cheeks and take a slight step back to rest against a table.

“Can I help you with anything?” a friendly staff member asks.

Her high pitched voice pulls my attention from my phone and I look up at her. Holy hell. She looks more like she should be on the label, modeling the clothes, rather than working inside the store. She’s gorgeous—tall and sexy—with bright blue eyes. If the owner of Victoria’s Secret knew they had such a beauty working for them, Candice Swanepoel would be out of a job.

“Just trying to choose a color,” I tell her, feeling rather deflated.

She smiles, and god dammit, it’s one of those smiles that make you smile too. I hate those. “What’s the occasion?”

I frown. “You need an occasion to wear underwear?”

The woman giggles and flicks her long, blonde hair over her shoulder. “Not necessarily. But most of our customers buy the strappy cheekinis when they’re trying to win someone over. Who is he?”

“My bos—” I jolt from the table. “—sy. Bossy. My bossy boyfriend.”

I really, really want to punch myself in the face.

“Well, the cheekinis are a very good choice. It’ll turn any bossy boyfriend into a compliant lover.”

I stare at her. That’s totally a weird thing to say, right? “Okay…”

“And I prefer the black. It’s slimming.” With a smirk, she strolls away, leaving me staring after her.

I don’t get it. How can something that barely covers your ass, is cut into pieces and is so obviously transparent make you look slimmer? Where’s the logic in that? Wait. Scratch that. I suppose the people who work in this industry aren’t paid for their smarts. As the thought finishes, my phone beeps.



From: Jesse. Time 9:05 a.m.

I don’t know why you’re asking but I don’t like red OR black. I prefer blue.



I cringe. Blue underwear? Really? I scan down the racks until I find a blue version of the black and red ‘cheekinis’. Sure enough, the blue comes in two shades; a dark royal blue they refer to as ‘amour sapphire’ and a lighter, more baby blue they call ‘carnival’. I don’t like either of them, but I’m not the one I’m trying to impress, so I grab the lighter blue. It’ll match the pinks in my drawer better. Feeling absolutely exhausted, I grab the panties in my size and head to the counter. Once I’ve paid and retrieved my bags, I head back outside. The sun is warm on my face and I welcome it. Good weather means I can wear a nice dress, and since he prefers blue, I have the perfect dress to wear.