Try Me On

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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 leaned 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 thirty-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 and twirling 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 toward his retreating assistant manager. 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 favorite 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 twenty-six 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.

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

 

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