Trip To The Mall

The wife and I went to the mall. Among other places, we went into a shoe store - I wanted to check to see whether they had the shoes I liked on that girl from the other day.

The shoe chick really seemed to like me. She was like 17 or 22, I really can't tell. She was slender, dark hair, curly but not frizzy, with a big and bright smile; engagingly cute despite one front tooth being a lot further forward and a bit overlapping the other. Initially I picked up on her insecurity, but with a spunkier side: she knows she's not a knockout, but she's not a dishtowel.

Somehow she knew exactly what style of shoes I was looking for, from my pathetic description. They didn't have them in my size or the color I wanted, so I told her it was ok, I could probably find them online cheaper anyway. But I told her, since she was so helpful, she still deserved her commission, so, how much is it?
"One percent."
"One percent of $69.99? That's like 70 cents."
"Don't worry about it."
"Oh come on now, you deserve the commission. You made the sale, the store just didn't support you. So, here's a buck. You're definitely worth at least a buck."
She laughed and tried not to take it, but I insisted, to make it funnier.
As soon as I started to walk away the cross-eyed manager started asking her what that was about.

Did I hit on her because I knew she was easy prey?, slash, I like to flirt with chicks who aren't super cute. I feel like, nobody else does, so why shouldn't I? Like a charity service. I'm very good at acting awestruck, like I just saw a jaw-dropping knockout when I first laid eyes on them. I can't take my eyes off them, and I let them catch me sneaking a peek as I walk out of the store or restaurant or wherever I encounter them. They blush, they smile, they beam, they're radiant. What's so bad about bringing a little sunshine into their lives? And if I do end up making them fall in love with me, like I said, they all say they're glad we had our time together even though it didn't last. Still, I keep finding myself chanting, "I'm just a terrible person."

I thought to myself, maybe I can come back without the wife and flirt with her, find some way to convince her I'm not married, and then I can sleep with her. It might be really fun finding out all her sexual idiosyncracies. Maybe she likes something that really turns me on. Maybe she's willing to do stuff that my current sexual outlet won't.

Younger girls or more inexperienced girls are so much fun. Not because I'm a pedophile - I'm not; the younger the girl, the less she turns me on - but because all the sensations are so new to them, that they get lost in the moment. They don't even realize where they are or what they're doing, they just melt into a moaning warm pile of writhing pleasure.

There's something to be said too for the experienced woman, since generally she knows exactly what it takes to make her come, and may have a better idea of what a guy generally likes. But with the inexperienced ones, it is such a turn-on seeing and hearing the pleasure they are experiencing. It's undeniably real. No pain necessary.

Cheesecake Factory

The wife wanted to eat there but the cute, thick black/latin hostess gave us a pager and said there'd be a 20 minute wait. I said "Ok, but are you lying? Is it actually going to be like 45 minutes?" She laughed. I could definitely get her.

We waited outside for them to buzz our pager. There were two very hot girls sitting there; the hotter of the two was definitely very spunky; she had on a fuzzy pink hat, something I have seen in exactly three porn movies by the way.

The one with the hat seemed to intentionally ignore me; she didn't even make that brief normal eye contact that most people, regardless of gender, do when you walk up and sit down within a few feet of them.


Was it because I was ok looking? Or because I was a total sleaze? The more I looked at her and the more she ignored me, the more it seemed to put me on the level of a slacker wannabe. What sort of guy would she give attention to? No-one? Some cocky, buffed, clean cut moron with stylish cookie-cutter clothes? Why am I not that guy? Is there something genetically wrong with me? Or did I just never play enough sports to become normal and coordinated and self-confident around snooty great-looking women?

On the way out

The mall was closing and two mall worker girls got into the car next to us in the parking lot. The wife was in the back seat and the windows are tinted so it looked like it was just me in the car. The girl on the passenger side looked at me a bit longer than just a cursory glance, and smiled at me. I smiled back. As we drove off in separate directions I took note of the make, model, and license plate of the car. Maybe I could come back another day at closing and better note the girls' uniforms, then come back again and find a reason to put myself where they work, and so on.