I had worked in the hardware store for only a few weeks, but I was starting to get the hang of where things were located, and used to seeing the same guys, day in and day out. You almost expected some of them to play checkers on the porch at the entrance. Then one day I overheard on the loudspeaker, "Customer needs assistance with some rope." Well, that was one of my responsibilities, so I went off to measure and cut some 12-foot piece of rope for some gently flirtatious old guy. I rounded the corner, with the words,
"May I help you?" on the tip of my tongue, when I saw the jeans. They were worn thin on the seat, and were they tight! Oh, my, were they tight! The man wearing them was bent over looking at something on the lower shelf, which made jeans viewing much easier for me, but I knew that it was going to be difficult to help this man without thinking of that nice little…wow I needed a fan! This led to thoughts of what the jeans might look like from the front, and I felt my face flushing. Men that looked that good shouldn't be allowed in public, I thought, and I hadn't even seen his face yet.
About that time, he stood up and noticed me standing there. He smiled, and I think I said, "May I help you, sir?" instead of "May I have my way with you?" What eyes! They were huge and liquid brown, and very hard not to look at, which was good, because it kept me from really embarrassing myself by looking at the jeans from this angle. He said, "I need some help with the rope. I was thinking of this piece, do you think it's very soft?" Soft rope? I thought, wondering. What an odd question. "That is fairly soft, but this rope over here is softer, I think." I replied. He took the piece I was holding into his hands, and said, "Oh, yes, that is much softer."
Trying to think of something clever to say, I asked, "What are you going to do with it, tie somebody up?" He looked at me, smiled and said, "That's what I had in mind." Was he kidding? It was really hard to tell. He had a little smile on his face, and I think he was laughing at me, but he seemed a little dangerous which intrigued me even more).
I said, "Umm, how much do you need?"
He said, " I'm not really sure, could you help me out with that, too?"
"Sure, I guess," I said, not sure what he meant.
He immediately looped the rope around my waist a couple of times, stretched it down to my ankles, and back up to my wrists. Now, I have to admit it, this wasn't exactly in my job description, but somehow I didn't mind it. No, I didn't mind it at all. Here I stood in the middle of the store I worked in, tied up by the most gorgeous jeans… I mean, man, I'd ever seen. He pulled off a couple of more feet of the rope and said, "Can you cut it right there?"
"Well," I said, "I'm a little 'tied up' right now, but…" He laughed and pulled the loops of rope off of me. As I measured and cut the rope for him, I said, "My name's Chris. What's yours?" He replied, "Mine's Ricky. Nice to meet you." he then thanked me and left. I stood there thinking, Chris, where is your brain? You couldn't think of anything to say to him? You flaming idiot!!!
The rest of the day crept by. Those jeans! I couldn't think of anything else. Oh well, maybe he would come back to the store another day.
I got off work that night, went to the grocery store, and drove home. As I got out of my car, I got the feeling someone was watching me, but as I looked around, there didn't seem to be anyone. I walked to my apartment door, and as I fumbled with my keys, a rope dropped around my arms, pinning them to my sides. Two strong arms spun me around, and I looked into those same rich brown eyes. I was too stunned to say anything.
He said, "Surprised to see me again?"
I nodded, and stammered, "I kind of thought you were measuring the rope for someone else." I was a little scared, but somehow, not that much. He smiled with that odd smile of his, and said, "I was, but I decided it looked better on you."
He pushed me toward the door, which I had managed to unlock. When we fell against it, it flew open and we crashed to the ground, amid all my groceries and several feet of very soft rope. We were on the floor, with him kneeling over me. He had what looked like flour in his hair, and something that looked like syrup dripping on his forehead. I thought, he's wearing flour and syrup. I must be in a very stylish spaghetti sauce, maybe with a little blue cheese dressing, or no, better yet, whipped cream on top. Too bad I forgot the lime Jell-O. Somehow, it all seemed perfect for the situation. As I looked into his face, and the silliness of the whole scene occurred to me, something told me not to tell him he looked like a clown, even with all that flour on his face.
His hand reached up to my face, and brushed away something spilled in my hair, then he slipped his hand under my head and pulled my face to his. His lips brushed mine, very gently at first, then more forcefully as his tongue parted my lips and slipped into my mouth. He didn't taste at all like flour or syrup, and I wanted this to keep going on until I figured out what it was that he did taste like. He continued to kiss me, then pulled away for a moment. I opened my eyes, to look up in his.
He said, "I'm sorry, I hope I didn't hurt you."
"Hurt me?" I said, as I slipped a loop of rope around his neck and pulled his face back towards mine. "Oh, please, hurt me again," I said, as my foot kicked the apartment door shut...
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