One Day Sunday: Part 3 by debee

One Day Sunday: Part Three

Our next stop was shoes and I was standing in front of the 10’s at a discount shoe store, with our shopping bags in hand and my wife’s hand bag over my shoulder. After considering having me wear just the corset on top, she changed her mind and decided on the tank (it was a coral shade with lace trim), reminding me of my morning comment, that this was not an appropriate time to look slutty. It hid my corset but was clingy and revealed my curves. My waist was further accented by a wide studded belt she bought along with the corset. It hung very loosely around my waist and rested on my hips.

At the moment my wife was in the next aisle. She kept her distance, wanting to watch me. I was ordered to shop on my own. There was a man and woman working sales in this store. I was relieved that the woman offered to help me first. “What are you looking for today?” She was about 35, conservatively dressed. Although I wasn’t entirely “en femme”, few could have doubts as to the kind of shopping I was doing.

“Well, I’m on a mission. I’m told that I look too “nice.” My wife turned into my aisle, pretending to browse. “So I’m looking for something… wicked. You know what I mean?” This was for her eaves-dropping ears, and I watched her suppress a smile. I’d show her slutty.

It had a pleasing effect on my clerk as well. “I know exactly what you mean! A sexy, “come hither” look? How much of a heel do you want? These black pumps are really sexy I think. And we have some really great specials on boots. These over-the-calf leather boots are a bit naughty and are only $40. What size do you wear?”

“Those are naughty,” I agreed. “Sometimes a 10, sometimes an 11, depends.”

“We’ll get both those sizes.”

“Can I find help you find something?” This was the male clerk speaking to my wife.

“I was looking for these in a seven. I see them in 8’s and 9’s, but… “

“7’s are here on the other side. I’m sure we have them. Let’s find you a pair…”

I continued to poke around and browse while I heard my wife pretend to speak under her breath to the salesman. “Can you believe that guy? Weird, huh?” He replied something that I didn’t catch. “Well, I think it’s weird, kinky weird.” Again I couldn’t hear his reply. “I certainly prefer a manly man.” Pause. “If you know what I mean.” They chuckled together.

My sales clerk was also listening to the rude comments and shook her head sympathetically at me. “Some people,” she said quietly and patted me on the arm.

“No worries,” I said cheerfully. “Listen, I’ll be getting into a taller heel, I’m sure, and I have a longer pair of pants here. It’ll be much easier to see what I like in these. But I don’t see a changing room. Is there a place to…?

“No changing room, but you can use the employee restroom. It’s right through that door at the back.”

I’m a girly man, I thought to myself as I changed my jeans. “So own it” I said aloud.

I walked out with three inches of my new jeans dragging on the floor My wife was still being “helped” by the salesman. He was crouched in front of her with a half dozen open shoeboxes littered about them. The man had just said something apparently funny. My wife laughed and playfully shoved her foot against his chest. She slyly winked at me as I quietly stood behind him.

“Let’s try the browns” she said to him and she held out her foot. He held her leg unnecessarily high at the calf and held the shoe out for her. She slowly slid her foot in and turned her foot and leg back and forth with his hand still on her calf. With slow deliberateness, my wife withdrew her leg from his hand and offered him her other foot, and the flirty game of footsie was repeated.

“Do you want to stand and see how they feel?” he asked her.

“No. I want to try those now.”

“My” saleswoman was offering help to a young woman who said she was just looking, and so came back over to me and led me to the next aisle. “I left those sizes for you here. Do you need any more help?”

“Probably, yes please. At least help in the way of advice,” I smiled.

“My favorite kind.” she joked. I sat in a chair and crossed my legs. She watched as I slid my pants up, revealing my stockings.

“Let’s try the 10’s.” I suggested, and bent forward for the box on the floor.

“Let me get that,” and she sat on her heels and opened the box and removed a boot.

“Well! What service.” I said.

“It’s what I do,” she returned cheerfully. She unzipped the instep zipper and held the boot. I pushed my foot into it with effort. “It should be snug,” she offered as she zipped the boot and I stood up.

“The length is just right with those jeans,” she said. “Feel ok?”

“Wonderful. Let me try the other.” When I had them both on I took a few steps back and forth, remembering to “heal to toe” making my hips swing. “Yes, the right length… but I wonder if they look good with pants?”

“Well, they are wasted under pants. I’d wear a skirt. And you’ve got the legs for it.”

“Awe, that’s sweet of you.”

“Seriously, you do. If ya got it, flaunt it, I always say.”

“I don’t have a lot of practice flaunting,” I peered at the name on her employee pin, “Katherine.” She smiled. I sat down. The corset was so stiff that bending at the waist was impossible. To reach the zipper on the boot I needed to bend my knees, keeping them together and bring my ankle to within reach. It was a more graceful, more “ladylike” movement.

Katherine watched me with undisguised interest.

“Those open toed strappies are cute. Could I look at those?”

“Of course,” she said, and reached for a box. “Not a lot of practice? Practice flaunting, or practice in general?”

“Both,” I said. “If by ‘in general’ you mean… this.” Katherine smiled and nodded. “Lets see… “ I pretended to think. “I first started this… um… today.”

“No! Really?”

“Yup. So I’d say… damn.” I was struggling with the tiny buckle on the shoe strap. “This is microscopic. Are they all this way?”

“Let me help”, Katherine said. “Actually, you’re really not expected to unfasten them, usually. The strap is a little stretchy. Just slip it over your heal, like this. Now lets see!”

I stood and walked in front of the mirror. “I know. A skirt with these too, right?”

“If it were me. I’m just saying.”

I paraded a bit more and sat and crossed my legs. “I’ll need to shop for one or two, I guess. You have any tips?”

“You don’t have a skirt? Well getting just one is different than two, if you’re thinking about function. But you also said you look too ‘nice.’ A ‘wicked’ something? What else do you have to go with? Probably not much. You said you just started. Unless you can wear a friend’s clothes. Or a wife’s? Are you partnered? Does she know? Is she the one who thinks you’re too nice? Sorry to pry. Only tell me what you’re comfortable with. This is just so... interesting.”

“Really? Interesting? Or just weird?”

“Both, of course.”

“Well… I could be aloof and coy… But, since you asked! I have no wardrobe beyond what you’ve seen. I do want to look wicked. I do have a partner. Most of her clothes would be too short for me. She does know. She is my wife. And I’m comfortable telling you she’s the one flirting like a bitch in heat with your coworker.” Our conversation, animated enough, was in low tones and didn’t rise above my giggling and chatty wife on the other side of the shelves.

I heard her ask, “Now Carl, be honest. Are these heels too much? To slutty? Stand there and look. Would you date a chick in these or do I look trashy?”

“You could pull it off, I’m sure,” Carl said.

“You think? But they rub my heel. See? Here, feel that…”

Katherine was listening and looking levelly at me. “So,” she said lowly, “is she looking to get fucked? Is this a game you two play?

I shrugged. “Don’t know. All new territory. We’ve never cheated before. But then again, she’s never put me in girly clothes. Until today. I suspect that she’s just fooling around. Having fun leading him on. I know that doing this to me has made her real horny. Almost as much as me.”

“Interesting. So interesting. Still, to tease you with her flirting. Not to mention Carl.” Katherine laughed. “Still want those skirt shopping tips?” I nodded eagerly. “Carl,” she shouted over the shelf, “Now that Kim’s back I’m taking my lunch. Might be a long lunch.” To me, “Let me ring up those boots and we’ll go.”

“You can just… go?” I asked.

“When you’re the manager, yes.” We walked past my wife and Carl on the way to the counter. My wife was standing, bending down pretending to adjust something on a red leather pump she was wearing. “Yes, they make you look trashy, honey”, Katherine told her. “But a nice kind of trashy. We’re going shopping for skirts after we buy these, with your permission of course.”

Without straightening up she said, “fun!” Her sweater was unbuttoned and my wife beater she was wearing hung loosely, giving the kneeling Carl a clear view of her small but perky breasts and he has not pretending to look away. “Sexy, without being slutty, please,” she said over her shoulder to Katherine.

“Got it,” she said and led me to the counter. As I was fishing through “my” purse to find my wallet, my wife joined us.

“I’m getting this,” she said firmly. “A sweet little thing like you doesn’t need money to by your little pretties. Those boots are so hot, Hun! Those heels! You are wearing them out, of course. Look how well you walk in them. Well, you seem born to it.” To Katherine, “You should have seen how Hun slid those thigh highs on for the first time. Born to it. So it’s off to the sale racks like a couple of girlfriends. But, Katherine, if something is just so perfect for our girl here, don’t mind the cost. And one more thing… “ and she pulled Katherine aside out of my hearing and spoke to her in low tones. Katherine nodded and asked one or two questions as if to clarify something. They both occasionally glanced over at me and smiled or laughed. “Ok, then, you two,” my wife said now including me, “I’ll catch up in a bit. Have fun!”

(Check Back Next Week for Part Four)
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