Mr. Underwood was not a conspicuous man. He was 54, about 5’6”, average build, mousy brown hair, hazel eyes and medium brown skin. His voice was neither nasally irritating nor compellingly sexy. It was… average. Everything about him was average. Most people didn’t even see him or they would forget him as if he were part of the scenery. But Mr. Underwood had a secret.
Every Friday when he got off work, Mr. Underwood would head over to the mall where he would stake out a lingerie section of a department store. He’d choose a different one every weekend and play the timid husband looking for something sexy for his wife. Mr. Underwood didn’t have a wife. But that wasn’t his secret.
He’d wait for it to be crowded before he’d go in then he’d find the busiest female sales clerk and stand to the side as she finished with her last customer. Then, with a stuttering voice, he’d ask, “I-I’m s-s-so s-s-sorry to bother you, but I have to get a present for my wife. W-where do you have the, ummm, bloomers?” He’d blush & not look into the eyes of any of the women assisting him.
If another clerk was near by, they’d exchange, “oh, isn’t he adorable?” looks. If the saleswoman was alone, she would get this half smile on her face that said, “you’re just too precious!”
Most often, the girl would gingerly lead him over to a table covered in panties then leave him alone. Every once in a while, he’d get an overly enthusiastic sales clerk who would promote the best deals or try to get his wife’s measurements. In those instances, he’d amp up his embarrassment then leave the store. But more often than not the woman would forget him as soon as she left the table.
When Mr. Underwood touched the fabric of the panties, he felt his secret tingling inside him. If anyone had been looking directly at him, they would see him shimmer. More often than not, they’d rub their eyes, blink and look back again. It was within that moment that Mr. Underwood would become a blur then, disappear. But he didn’t actually disappear; it just looked that way. The more attentive observer would notice that a there was an extra pair of panties folded neatly on the top of the stack. If it had been anyone other than Mr. Underwood, someone might have noticed.
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