The romantic sooky sooky story PART 10

It was 5:36pm as James watched the janitor wipe the floors for the last time that day. As soon as she put her materials away, and bid him farewell, he took a good long look at the art gallery. He stretched, and then walked around the gallery, entering all manner of codes, locked the glass door along with the metal blinds and secured them to the ground. The gallery was properly protected.

He jumped on his black Yamaha bike, his bag slung over his shoulder and began his small journey home. He stopped at a small Chinese restaurant on a corner and bought shrimp friend rice, orange chicken, broccoli beef and pork spring rolls(hey, he’s big on meat ^_^ in a non-homo way @_@). He tied the large bag of food to the back and made his way home.

On his way home, he passed a department store and stopped short. ‘She does need a few things,’ he thought. He turned the ignition off, and slowly reversed till he was in front of the store. He parked his bike, took his helmet off, grabbed the food and made his way to the warmth of the building.

He put the food around a desk in front of a clerk, grabbed a small basket and walked around for a while, his shoes echoing on the hardwood floors until he found a 6-pack of small white t-shirts, an 8-pack of white tube socks, and although he was uncomfortable with the thought, he headed over to the female underwear section.

He stood there for a while, puzzled.  “B-cup? C-cup? Comfort brand? What the hell is all this supposed to mean?!” He shouted to himself. A woman, who looked to be around 35, wearing khaki pants, a navy polo shirt and sneakers made her way over to him as soon as she heard his frustrated growl,  “ Need some help, sir?” she asked, a smirk on her face. His confusion was obviously amusing to her. “Yes, uhhh…” He bent down close to her ear, “I’m looking for ladies underwear.” She nodded, “For you?” she asked. “NO!” he shouted immediately, and then regained his composure.  “For my…cousin, yea, my cousin. She’s here for a while unexpectedly, so I’m just buying her some underwear and stuff for the duration.”

The woman nodded in a yea-sure-your-cousin fashion. “And what size does your cousin wear?” He thought for a second, ‘What size does she wear?’ He scratched his head and said the first thing that came to mind, “Her hips are kinda wide, but her waist is a bit smaller. She’s still a tiny girl though. She looks about 5’3, 16 years old.” The woman nodded and went into the staffroom.  She brought back a diagram with each underwear size tacked to a board. “Now, which one does she look like she’d wear?” She asked. He stared at each carefully. Some looked too wide, others looked too small, and one looked like a parachute, but he spotted one that could possibly fit. “That one,” he pointed. She nodded and proceeded to the aisle and rack, grabbed a pack of Hanes women comfort fit, cotton, multi coloured and handed it to him. “There you go, anything else, sir?” she asked politely. “Yea…um…bras?” he asked, a little hopeful.  She smiled, “Proceed.” He took a deep breath, “They look small,  but they look big enough to have a small cleavage.” A big Cheshire smile was plastered on her face, ‘Cousin my ass!’ she thought and chuckled to herself. She handed him a 6-pack of 34B bras, Hanes, multi-coloured. “Is that it, sir?” she asked, a little annoyed. “No, uhh, I wanna buy her some really cheap clothes, just regular casual clothes, jeans, sweaters, y’know stuff like that.”  She thought for a while, “There’s a thrift store down the street. They got some good stuff down there, really cheap. Oh, by the way, buy her some shoes for the weather, in case she goes out.” He hiked his basket of goodies over his shoulder, “Thanks a lot, I’m gonna cash these out.” She smiled and waved, “Your welcome.”

He went up to the cashier and paid a surprising $27.60 for everything. He grumbled a bit, “woman making me spend money, bah humbug (^_^).”  He took his bag and left the store. He jumped on his bag, did a u-turn and went down the street, parking across the road from the thrift store.  He took all his bags into the store, leaving them with a clerk, like the last time and walked around the store. He looked around, without the help of clerks, and picked up some small sweaters, a heavy white padded jacket, with a furred hood, some black Uggs, a white long skirt, stuff that young girls would like. He cashed out and paid a record $15. “Wow, *I* should shop here.” He said with a wide smile on his face. “Sir,” the cashier whispered, “My advice is to wash the clothes before you wear them…in hot water.” He nodded, grabbed his bag along with the rest of his things and left the store. Wasn’t him that was wearing ‘em anyway.

He tied his thing to his bike and drove so fast, he basically flew home. He walked lazily up the stairs and opened the apartment door, the aroma of meatloaf, beefy gravy and garlic mashed potatoes tickled his nose. He shut the door behind him and placed her stuff on the bed, taking the Chinese into the kitchen with him. She stood in front of the stove, still in her red shirt, t-shirt and socks, humming a tune while she tossed caramelized onions with carrots and string beans in a creamy butter sauce in a skillet.

She turned around and threw the spoon in the air in surprise, “Oh!”  He walked over to her, “It’s alright, it’s just me.” He picked the spoon off the floor and put it in the clean sink. She turned and poured the side dish into the plate, and put the skillet in the sink. She washed both the skillet and spoon and put them in the dryer, drying her hands on a kitchen cloth.

She reached over him, her natural scent reaching his nose, and opened a cupboard to retrieve two plates. She took them down, grabbed two forks and knives, as well as glasses from the dish dryer. She went in the fridge and took out a bottle of Carlo Rossi white wine, 2000 and placed it in front of him. He looked at her. She smiled shyly, “Take it as ‘thank you’ vor letting me stay here.” Her Russian accent evident. He was surprised, “You speak English now?” She turned away, looking towards the television, “I learned,” She whispered.

He put the Chinese on the counter, took his jacket off and sat to eat, “I wish you told me so I wouldn’t waste my money on Chinese food. It’s okay I guess, Chinese food tastes better after a day.” He shoveled a heaping spoonful of mashed potatoes, gravy, meatloaf and vegetables onto his plate and ate without shame. She shyly poured him a glass of wine, like a waitress would, while she silently asked herself how she even knew how to pour wine properly. She placed it beside him, and made a small plate for herself, poured a glass of wine and sat a stool away from him. He watched her, from the corner of his eye as she gently folded a kitchen cloth in her lap, and took small bites of her meatloaf and vegetables. He smiled to himself, and took another bite of his carrot.

“What should I call you? Nameless won’t work.” He said, not looking her way. She thought for a while, “De shows I vatched, Rachel Ray umm, Cat Cora, and uhh Ina Garten. You may call me one ov these.” She didn’t look his way either. “No, I don’t like those. How about something simple, like Mary, or Lizzy, or Sarah?” She put her hands delicately over her lips while she chewed, “I do not like.” He scratched his chin and thought, “How about Leena?” She closed her eyes, “I like dat, yes.” He nodded, “Then we’re in agreement.” He put his fork down and turned to her, his hand outstretched towards her. She turned to face him and looked at the hand, “Nice to meet you Leena, I’m James.” She blushed and took his hand, shaking it gently, “James. Nice meeting you.” Her Russian rolled off her tongue.