I looked my my old, faded jeans. They were knackered. Threadbare at the seams and the knees were about to split. I'd had them quite a while but it was time to get some new ones, make myself look a bit tidier at any rate, so I decided to head into town and stop by the local department store. I left early, not wanting to wade through press of weekend shoppers and get home as soon as I could. Shopping is not my forte, often feeling awkward and paranoid about what others might think of my choices.
I bounced into the car and headed to the retail outlet. The shop was quiet. A few browsers here and there and the worker were out and about filling racks or sorting through stock. I climbed the stairs to the men's department and head for the rows of denim. I felt the awkwardness build up- what colour, what shape, which size? Is that worker watching me and sniggering about my choice? I chastise myself- catch a grip! Nobody is even aware of your presence! Get over and get the job done!
As I am looking for what I want, I notice another guy skimming through the mens' department. It was just us browsing and one worker sorting stock. The guy was fairly tall, broad shouldered but a tidy frame. He was wearing a tight t-shirt and a pair of boot-cut jeans. A good looking guy but in a bit of a hurry from the looks of him.
He flitted here and there, picking up all sorts. A t-shirt, a top. A pair of trainers. He came over to the jeans and took a few seconds before spotting the style he wanted. "Sorry mate," he said, "Just need to pair in the back."
"No problem," I awkwardly mumble and step back from the jeans giving him room to get what he needs. He smelt good, fresh and a clean smell of cool water passed me as he stepped in front of me. I faced his broad back, then looked away, but kept peeping a look back.
He leaned into the pile of jeans rumaging deeper in and as he leaned deeper in he bent further over, his tight t-shirt like a second skin hugging his frame, and showing his slightly toned physique. His t-shirt began riding up his back a little and as he stretched, the waistband of his boxers began to emerge from his waistline, crisp white against his tanned skin and the deep blue of his jeans. My eyes crept further down and I notice he has a perfectly round bum snugly fitted intonthose jeans.
"Gotcha!" He exclaimed. My face went hot and flustered as I look up expecting to see him staring at me mid-oogle. But he was making his way out of the jeans, the prized item in his hand.
"You'd think with all these hanging, finding the pair that fits would be easy," he said to me. I chuckle a little dryly and agree, "Aye buddy, a shop full and never quite what you need."
"You'll have no problem finding what you want, just have to get right in there and have a fumble about," he replied, giving me a short, side-long look that scanned me head to toe, and a lop-sided grin. "I'm away to see if these'll do the job." He went off towards the changing rooms giving me a wave over his shoulder and a long look at that round bum.
Now what do I make of that, I think to myself? I'm fully aware of the tightening in my jeans as my own arousal begins to stir. Did he notice me looking? Was it an innocent remark about jeans, or was he alluding to something more. Either way, there wasn't much I coukd do about it now. I buried my thoughts, put the imagine out of my head and looked for those elusive jeans.
But my attention kept being drawn back to the corner where the dressing rooms were located... |
