The Fitting Room

Dan thinks he's stuck in a rut. As a mechanic, he has a broken foot, and his discount superstore has taken him out of the garage and placed him at the women's fitting room desk. His girlfriend is also his boss, and he rarely gets to see her outside the store. Their love life consists of secret sexual moments while on the clock. Then, Dan meets a strange redheaded woman, and things change.

Warning! This 20,000 word novella contains graphic and explicit description of sexual acts between consenting adults. It is meant only for mature readers over 18.

Excerpt:

“Do these make my ass look big?” In front of the door to a changing room, the redheaded customer turned to give me every angle I would need. She also gave me the sort of look reserved for people about to be murdered.

Marking my page, I set down my pulpy spec-ops novel and took a good look at her. “Nope,” I said. It was the truth. The tight blue denim clung to her curves nicely, giving her legs firm. The fabric stretched well over her rear end, and the cut of jeans fully accentuated the cleft of her ass. I tried not to be seedy in how I looked. I didn’t know this woman at all. Yet, she asked me, and I didn’t want to be accused of saying yes without being honest. After all, plenty of former girlfriends have caught onto the insincere “Honey, you look great” line, and dumped me thereafter.

“You would tell me if my ass looked big, right?”

I bit my lip. “Ma’am.” I paused to see if I could find my best wording, especially since I didn’t know this person. “Wouldn’t you kill me if I said, Yes, those jeans make your butt look huge? If you painted a cross on your ass, it would be mistaken for a helicopter landing pad?”
The woman blinked at me a few times. “Why, yes I would!” Her gaze narrowed. “So, my butt looks like you could land helicopters on it?”

“No, no!” I held up a hand to try and calm her. “That was just a rhetorical example. You’re asking me an unanswerable question. If I said, Yes, your butt looks great in those, I would be accused of patronizing or lying to you. If said anything negative, I would be an insufferable jerk. Either way, I lose.”

“I’m just asking for an honest opinion. Do these jeans make my butt look big?”

“No.”

She clamped her eyes shut and clenched both her fists. “You’re lying!”
I rolled my eyes. “See? This is exactly what I’m saying.” I picked up my military spec-ops novel and turned back to my page. “Please don’t ask me questions you think you already know the answers to.”

“I don’t like your attitude.”

I turned a page in novel. “That’s perfectly understandable.”

“What? I want to speak to your manager.”

Again, I marked the page and put my novel down. I glanced around the desk in front of me, looking for the intercom device. It was buried under a small pile of hangers and shopping bags. After I moved them away, I pressed the call button and said, “Any assistant manager to fitting room for customer service.” Then, I glanced at the woman. “Somebody should be here shortly, Ma’am.” I secretly wished the manager would be Amanda. It had been a day since I saw her last, and I missed her.

We waited. The woman grew so impatient, she tapped her foot. “Why are you even here?”

I glanced around at all the woman’s clothing and racks around me. Beyond her, empty cubicles awaited any customer that wanted to try on women’s clothing. “You know,” I said, “I wish I wasn’t here. Good thing I called my manager, because we both have issues to discuss with her.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, don’t you think it’s unfair to have a guy manning the changing rooms?”

Her scowl softened a little. “Well, yes.”
“The Super Sav-Mor-Mart phone system is routed through here. It’s a hub for incoming calls, so the customer service kiosk doesn’t get overwhelmed.” I paused. “A week ago, I twisted and badly sprained my ankle in this store’s garage and oil change service. Then, a tool box fell on that same foot. Broke two bones. My doctor says I have to do light duty...