“Try Me On”

try me on

Try Me On portrays the humorous, sexy and eye opening adventures of a smart, yet naïve young man who takes a management position with a young women’s clothing retailer.

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Read on for an excerpt.

A string of young women leant against the broad checkout counter clutching their precious bargains. Jack Timmons monitored the early-evening activity from his vaguely obscured post on the sales floor amidst three round racks of clearance blouses and a T-stand loaded with gaudy, yet for some reason very popular, sundresses. He was beaming.

With each peep of his store’s money-gobbling cash registers, Jack’s annual bonus would fatten a little. The 30-year-old manager looked forward to collecting, and then wasting, his five-figure, end-of-year, atta-boy reward, but that didn’t account for his joyous mood; he was shallower than that. He owed his conspicuously smug grin to the thinly veiled mass of curvy, firm butts pivoting just feet from his position.

The line of foot-shuffling, nubile shoppers patiently awaited their turn to pay, while carefully curated, wallet-lubricating background music spilled from well-hidden speakers. The huddle of alluring asses bobbed and danced as if encouraged by more than the muted tunes. These tantalizing babes pawed through their purses for credit cards, loose bills or, just as likely, pieces of strawberry-kiwi bubble gum. Each one of the fledgling beauties was more delicious than the next. And, fortunately for Jack, they all loved to shop at J. Annie’s, the hottest discount fashion store in Phoenix.

‘Jack?’ Julie Wendelsohn, the store’s assistant manager, had been flitting around her disconcertingly focused boss for a minute, hoping he’d notice.

‘What? Oh hey, Julie. Looks like another great day, huh? Corporate will be pleased.’

‘Yeah. I hope they’re as pleased as you seem to be. Listen, I want to talk to you about Joel. I’ve had a number of comments from the girls about him hanging around the fitting room curtains. Kind of creeps them out. I was hoping you could deal with this.’

‘Joel’s our stock supervisor, Julie. How’s he supposed to keep the store merchandised if he’s not allowed on the sales floor?’ Although Joel was a bit awkward, and sometimes a little slow on the uptake, Jack appreciated his diligence and saw no reason to come down hard on the indefatigable young worker. Besides, he was the only other male store employee. As much as Jack enjoyed sloshing about in a sea of females, he liked having another guy around who he could share the inevitable anecdotes, or marvel at the concept of community fitting rooms with. ‘Maybe I’ll remind him to focus only on the racks outside the fitting rooms.’

Julie rolled her eyes then tromped back to her office to finish working on the weekly staff schedule. Jack remained glued to his post – or box seat, as he liked to think of it – shifting his scrutiny towards his retreating assistant. Without Julie’s help he’d be a hopeless square peg, lost in a job he should never have qualified for. She had the fashion knowledge he lacked. He had a strong retail management background – in sporting goods, not women’s apparel. A year ago, Jack might have fallaciously proclaimed Dolce & Gabbana his favourite brand of gelato in an overhasty attempt to impress. But Julie would bail him out, time after time. He didn’t understand why she came to his rescue so often, but he appreciated it, and he appreciated her.

Jack’s gaze remained tacked to Julie’s swinging, narrow hips as she navigated the crammed aisles on her way to the office. Since the day they met, the day Jack was ceremoniously shepherded into the store by Mike Allen, the district manager, and introduced as the new store manager, Jack had wanted to touch her, play with her … take her for a test drive. But there were rules against such things. Corporate had little tolerance for hanky-panky between a store manager and his or her assistant. Jack was certain that buttoned-down Julie had zero tolerance.

Still, she was a 26-year-old, petite cutie with short blonde hair, modest, firm tits, and a shapely, compact ass. And Jack was a single guy who found each of those attributes irresistible. If only she wasn’t such a goody two-shoes, he thought.

Not that he was interested in a serious relationship. He’d already been down that alley, taken that bait. Jack’s bruises were still fading beneath his unguarded skin, an ex-girlfriend having delivered the impolite blow or, more accurately, unleashing, a year earlier.


“In Anyone Else’s Shoes”


In Anyone Else’s Shoes, M. L. Joslyn’s first erotic novella, reveals the sexy story of a cupcake-loving shoe store manager ready for some new high-heeled adventures.

Click here for more info.

Read on for an excerpt.

A wedge of moonlight landed in dashes atop the acid-etched, concrete floor of Untamed Soles, a trendy ladies’ shoe store on Scottsdale Road. With a large brass key, Emma locked the heavy front door behind Jan and Rachel, her hardest working part-timers, and then paced purposely to her office, scraping past freshly neatened steel-pipe display racks and a maze of black leather couches.

Mismatched pairs of slingbacks, and clipboards choked with redundant sales forms, clogged her tiny workspace at the back of the store. A single swivel chair and metal desk hogged most of the room. The top of the desk was exceptionally organised, like the rest of the store, and supported just five items: a telephone, legal pad, can of Diet Coke, a half-eaten red velvet cupcake, and a small, porcelain, heart shaped bowl crowded with business cards. Twenty minutes of paperwork, and I should be out of here, she thought. The phone warbled its urgent cry and Emma reached for it, knocking over her freshly opened soda.

‘Emma Green, manager, how may I help you?’

‘Hi Em-Em! Why aren’t you out of there yet?’

‘Alyssa, damn you! I just spilled my soda everywhere. Thanks. Not.’

‘I know you very well, Em. I’m guessing that isn’t the first thing you’ve spilled today.’

She was right, but Emma wasn’t about to divulge her first-rate chicken salad on a third-rate paper plate story. ‘Very funny, Alyssa. Why are you calling now anyway? Aren’t you anxious to get out of your store and into the arms of one of your stud muffin boy toys?’

‘I left my store 20 minutes ago, hon. What takes you so long? Oh, that’s right – everything has to be perfectly arranged and merchandised before you’ll set your poor employees free for the night.’

‘Maybe that’s why my store tends to look, you know, much better than yours. And I’m certain my work ethic has nothing to do with why my numbers are consistently higher than “Miss Alyssa’s Sorry I Can’t Find the Mate” shoe shack. And don’t start with the “your location is so much better than mine” routine.’

‘Oh, my dear, dear Em-Em. Aah. We have got to get you laid. And, by the way, we both manage Untamed Soles. They’re identical stores. The only possible reason my store’s sales aren’t as bonus-worthy as yours is that you have the primo spot, and that’s all I’m saying.’

‘Do you always have to sigh when you mention my personal life, Alyssa? I’m fine. I’ve always been fine. In fact, I’m crazy good. Now, cut it out.’

‘Now, that could be why your sales are superior to mine. You are an excellent bullshitter, Emma Green! C’mon, let me set you up with someone. They’ll be hot – I promise. You have got to get over that jerk, Ty.’

Emma was over Ty. At least, that’s what she’d tell herself when she bumped into him in their shared apartment. They had split up amicably a month ago, but he was never around, and they agreed it made no sense for them to break their lease. Two separate bedrooms, one separated couple. And besides, they were somehow able to maintain a semblance of a friendship, which included all the friendship perks – when he was around.

‘How many guys do you know, anyway?’ Emma asked derisively. ‘Do you keep a couple dozen neatly folded in your dresser?’

‘Yes! And that’s just my dresser!’