Justify the Means

Pages 4 and 5

Leaning on the counter, Steven's mind was distracted, wanting this guy to wrap the gift so he could get home to his game.  Then his eyes suddenly focused on her.

Twenty feet away, he had never seen a more stunning woman.  Tall with long auburn hair, a slender body carried clothes matchlessly.  Black slacks tightened near her pelvis and loosened at the ankles.  A thick brown belt hugged a blazer and revealed the natural curves of her figure.  The top allowed only for the barest outline of her breasts. 

As she measured a nightshirt against her chest, Steven pictured her wearing it, joining him in bed.  A certain mystery surrounded her.  Was it the way in which she carried herself?  Composed and sure, or did her gold eyeglasses leave her imperfect, flawed?  Conclusions couldn't be reached, but if there was such a cliche as love at first sight, he had just discovered it.  

Now, admiring a denim shirt and gabardine slacks, she combed her fingers through her bouncy hair.  The part reluctantly and suddenly switched sides; all interest in the slacks was lost.  Instead, there was Steven’s intense gaze.

"Cash or charge?" the man asked.  "Cash or charge, darling?"  Impatient fingers tapped the counter.  "Sir, how do you wish to pay?"

Struck by reality, Steven turned back to the salesman and the hideous duck slippers chosen as a Christmas gift for a woman he had no attraction to, no chemistry with, and no patience to give half a damn about.  Suddenly, the stunner with the auburn hair was nowhere to be found.  So much for love at first sight, he thought.

"Sir!"

"Screw the slippers, man."  Steven abruptly left. 

"I could have been killed for these!  Sir . . .wacko!" he shrieked as he raised the slippers in the air.  "Men!"

By then, Steven was too far away to hear him.  Listening to Bing Crosby's version of "It's Beginning To Look A Lot Like Christmas," he considered the decor, the Christmas enigma.  Fixing his yellow tie, he thought, what's the point, anyway?  Auburn, that was some woman.

The salesman had meanwhile stuffed the white tissues back into the slippers, returned them to their box, and put them under his arm.

"May I see those?"  The woman's accent was definitely English.

"What size do you need?" he asked with disinterest.

"What size are you holding?" 

"If I'm not mistaken, these are a six."

"Perfect.  I'll take them."  Out of her purse appeared a crisp fifty-dollar bill.

“Will you need a gift receipt?”

“No, that won’t be necessary.”  The accent raised her allure to another level.

The sale was processed.  “May I say that you have the most beautiful hair that I have ever seen.  Who styles it?”

“Wouldn’t you love to know?”  The change was accepted with laughter.