A few years ago while working in a men’s wear store, I had the opportunity to indulge in a bit of fun. A woman came into the shop, a very attractive mom. She was probably in her early forties and looking to get her fifteen year old son a blazer, or a jacket. Since this was during a weekday afternoon in the late autumn, the young lad in question was not in tow. So I naturally asked all the probative questions…height, weight, small, medium, large. When I inquired about his general size, she said “well he’s about my size.”
Taking a moment to enjoy this situation, I ran an appreciative eye over her. She was wearing tight faded jeans, Levis, with mid-calf brown leather boots. On top she had on a plain white t-shirt and a nylon, puffy, not-form-flattering, dark blue jacket. Her shoulder length blonde hair, clear blue eyes, and pale smile, could do with a little ‘dress-up’.
We seized the opportunity to use her as a stand in for her son. Having an experienced eye, as far a women’s figures go, I had her take off the jacket and turn slowly around. She did so. Taking her jacket off and laying it on a fixture, she slowly let my eyes take in her figure. Watching closely the nice curve of her breasts, I let my eyes wander down her cotton covered abs to where her shirt was tucked into her jeans. I had her turn around again while I uttered the usual ‘hmm’… and let a covetous eye roam her denimed cheeks. ‘Very nicely toned’ I noted to myself, but duty calls.
I took down a black, slim fit, jacket in a size 38 regular. I came up behind her and as she brought her arms behind her, and helped her on with this selection. Turning her around I buttoned the top button, not the other, and had her take a look in the three-way mirror. She had a bit of a smile, and she looked alright, but the jacket was too large, and, like her puffy jacket, it did nothing for her shape.
I then helped her on with the next selection, a size 36. It framed those breasts wonderfully, but it was a bit too long. Asking how tall her son was, she replied that he was her height. So, off came the 36 regular, and I returned with a 36 short, and assisted her with it. At this point I don’t think there was much hiding my enjoyment of the pleasure of her company. She flirted in a subtle way with a smile and the look in her eye.
Slipped a 36 short, slim fit, black jacket on her, I brought it up to her shoulders, letting my hands linger a moment. Buttoning the top button, turning her towards the mirror, the jacket fit perfectly. Her breasts caused a bulge in the lapels. I was unconcerned because “most 15 year old boys don’t have a lovely set of breasts.” I told her. That evoked another smile from her. I remarked that the jacket flattered her much more than I could, and that when her son grew out of it, she should take it for herself. Then, I leaned in suggesting to her that she should shop in the men’s wear more often.
She stood there. We both admired her in the mirror. The jacket, t-shirt, jeans, and boots, I told her she looked great, because she did. There’s something about THAT look. The man tailored jacket, usually with a man tailored buttoned shirt, but a t-shirt would do, the jeans, and the boots. There is something I find erotically charged in such costuming. It is definitely a proclivity of mine! Does anyone else remember the scene in 9 1/2 weeks were Kim Bassinger dresses up?