To begin, two mysteries: who is she? What is her secret?
Do you need any help? the women ask, knowing their question will be answered with a tentative yes. The clerks recognize men in over their heads, overwhelmed by the seven foot tall Mirandas and Alessandras. The men are there to create their dream women, their dream angels, out of underwires and underwear. They are lost. The clerks will gently guide them to the peek-a-boo, to the Sexy Little Things. They will ask them, carefully, do you know the size you need? They will not.
I throw the clerks by knowing what to look for. I know that the Body By Victoria Bra replaced the Ipex Bra this year. I know that my wife needs a bra (size redacted on her request), but she has no need for pushing up, for added cleavage. She considers boyshorts and cheeksters a waste of fabric, and I love her for this. She asks for neutrals to supplement her orange and red bras, but her underwear can be any color or pattern. She will not use the free panty coupons arriving monthly in our mail; this task, like the laundry and the lawn, falls to me.
In the store, I do not interact with the other men. They are in their own worlds, their own fantasies. They are translating, the men, moving the teddies and garters onto their own wives and girlfriends. I understand this and will not dissuade them of it. I find my wife her requested bra, nude, (size redacted), choose a few pairs of underwear, underwear that she will coo over and that she will, beloved, wear. I make my purchases and slip back out into the regularity of the retail landscape, pink bag in hand, a mystery unsolved, another resolved.
Shteamy.
I am very impressed by your victoria secret knowledge.. lol I’m one of those men who knows nothing going in there