Charlie let the silk float over his fingertips, trying not to imagine the contours of Rose’s leg as the stocking slid past calf and thigh. Damn! He was supposed to be helping Harold find a Christmas gift for Rose, not coveting the man’s wife.
Hanlon’s was a smallish store, but they offered a good variety of merchandise. Surely there was something less… personal…
“Did you find something, Charlie? What’s that?”
Charlie dropped the hosiery as if on fire. “Ahhh…” he stammered. “Just the perfect gift for a man to give his wife.” He pointed to the display, not daring to touch the elegant gossamer again lest Harold notice the wanton lust on his face.
Harold’s eyes, however, were riveted to the display ad. “‘Holeproof silk hose with Paris clox.’ A dollar ninety-five? Geez, Charlie, I can’t afford that.”
That didn’t stop him from exploring the silken heaven for himself, though, and Charlie watched as the look on Harold’s face changed from sensible farmer to starry-eyed husband.
If the man didn’t already have Rose, Charlie’d feel sorry for him.
Poor Harold. Continue reading