Working In A Lingerie Company - Intro

 ALL STORY LIST | PARTS - PART 1

"I've arranged to have twenty prospective employers stop by during next week's class. 

All of them have told me they are willing to offer internships if the standard of excellence is high enough." Professor Jamison paused for effect. "I hope you all don't disappoint them. Class dismissed."

Tim had been half-dozing most of the class, but he came alert at Professor Jamison's last comments. 

He was planning to spend two to four weeks job hunting during the summer break. If he could land an internship, a huge weight would be lifted from his shoulders. 

He gathered his books, rose from his seat in the auditorium, and walked outside into glorious April sunshine. In a week and a half, school would be a memory, and most of his friends would fade into the distance as they returned to their hometowns, their families, and the lives they led as teenagers not yet abandoned for adult pursuits. 

Tim didn't have that luxury. 

He was stranded in town for the summer. 

His roommate would be off to Europe after finals, doubling at a stroke the amount Tim would pay for rent. Thinking about money as he made his way home after class made him queasy as if a stone were forming in the pit of his stomach. 

He needed an internship or something so badly that he dared not even hope too much for it lest it consume his every waking thought.

When Tim arrived at his apartment, his roommate, Doug, was already packing.

"Aren't you jumping the gun a little?'" Tim asked.

"Nope. I arranged to take my finals early. I'm finished." Doug scouted around for his laundry bag. Finding it, he began to stuff clothes into it. He looked up at Tim and smiled. "My flight leaves Minneapolis tomorrow night at 10:30. I am, as they say, outta here."

Tim spent the next three days studying and sulking. He was confident of passing Professor Jamison's accounting class, but he wanted more than just a passing grade. High marks would not hurt his job prospects. His other classes were a different matter. While he enjoyed his Southern Literature class, he was a slow reader, and the class had challenging books that demanded that he read even slower to grasp their meaning. Tim's remaining three classes, all business classes, were pretty much a lock; the finals in those classes were a formality. Without the distraction of a roommate and the temptations a roommate entails, Tim got a lot done, but when he wasn't studying, he was thinking about money. Toward the end of the weekend, he was beginning to worry that he was giving himself an ulcer.

Tim's stomach was full of butterflies the morning of Professor Jamison's job fair. Those butterflies turned into outright panic as the hour wore on and he still had no prospects. There always seemed to be someone else whose qualifications were closer to what the employer wanted. Fifteen minutes before the end of the session, a woman walked into the auditorium and greeted Professor Jamison. Tim couldn't hear what she was saying, but she seemed apologetic. Tim watched the conversation intently, not just because he was desperate for a job: this woman was a bombshell. After a minute or two of apologies and pleasantries, the professor pointed to Tim, and the woman approached him. As he watched her walk toward him, Tim's employment woes were replaced by an entirely different set of anxieties. He was glad he was sitting down.

Her eyebrows might have been too heavy and her nose might have been too strong, but in all other respects, she was a goddess. 

Her face was heart-shaped, framed by a cascade of dark auburn hair. Her lips were full, with just a hint of a smile as if she were inwardly laughing at some private amusement. 

She wore a burgundy suit with a tight bodice and a tight skirt; it was businesslike, but it complemented the swell of her breasts and the curves of her hips in a way that hinted of thatbedroom behind the business facade, a hint amplified by her black, back-seamed stockings and stiletto-heeled pumps. 

Her luminous green eyes bored into him like two chips of kryptonite. It made his knees turn to water.

"Mr. Harmon?" she asked pleasantly. "My name is Elizabeth Raven. Professor Jamison speaks highly of you." She offered her hand, which Tim shook carefully as if he were handling fine bone china.

"Hello," he said, but he couldn't think of anything more to add, so he didn't. She took his response as an invitation to sit, and she took the seat next to him.

"Let me be blunt, Mr. Harmon. You are not the ideal prospect for me. I had hoped to find an intern who could also fill in on the sales floor if the need arises, but you will have to do." She paused as Tim began to sputter an objection, but she silenced him with a finger to her lips. "I'm sure," she continued, "that you are a perfectly capable salesperson, but the nature of my business precludes a male sales staff. I'm the owner of Raven's Intimates."

"Oh," was the only response he could muster.

"Oh, indeed," she teased. "Don't look so downhearted. I don't need sales staff right now, but I do need someone to do some bookkeeping and some market planning. Professor Jamison says you are good at both. Do you think you are up to the challenge?"

"Absolutely," he blustered, his voice full of bravado so false that he was sure she could hear it. It was all he could do to keep from sounding pathetic and desperate. "Although...I don't know much about the fashion business, let alone the lingerie business."

"I wouldn't worry about that. We'll familiarize you with the product line when you start. Once you have it down pat, it's just like any other business. You'll do fine. Now then, when can you start?"

"My last final is on Friday. How about Saturday?"

"Saturday it is." She took her card from her pocketbook and handed it to him. "Shall we say 10 o'clock?"

"Sure. Anything you want."

She smiled and rose to leave. Tim watched her as she left, mesmerized like a bird watching a cobra. It sank in slowly: the most beautiful woman he had ever seen had hired him to work in her lingerie store. He held her card up to his nose; it smelled faintly of her perfume. He left class in a daze.

Tim's final exams went well, even the Southern Literature exam. With his schoolwork behind him and a job lined up, he didn't have a care in the world.

On Saturday, he woke with the sun. After his shower and breakfast, he had several hours to kill. It was an effort to keep from driving to the store and parking there until it was time for work. Instead, he watched cartoons for a while like he was ten years old again. As the hour approached, he put on a blue chambray shirt a tie, and a pair of tan chinos, gathered up his nerve, and left for work. He arrived early despite himself. Elizabeth arrived fifteen minutes later wearing a summery lavender skirt and jacket set with a lacy camisole visible at her cleavage.

"You're here bright and early, I see," she said as she unlocked the door and let him into the store. 

"We'll start with a tour." She turned on the lights, revealing a wonderland of silk and satin. Even the walls were covered in pink and white velvet. "Over here are our long nightgowns," she said, pointing to a rack that ran the length of one wall. 

"They are divided into three categories depending on their function. This is where the actual sleepwear is, although I don't sell anything for sleeping in, per se." She winked at him, causing him to blush to his roots. 

"Our bras and camisoles are over there. I'll train you to fit them, even though you won't actually be doing any of that. I think everyone who works for me should know everything there is to know about the product. And over here we have our teddies and baby dolls..." 

She guided him through a bewildering array of slips, hose, panties, bustiers, playsuits, garters, peignoirs, ribbons, thongs, high heels, and robes. They wound up at the back of the store: "This is our specialty area, where we custom-make latex and leather items and corsetry."

"Corsets? Women still wear them?" he asked.

"Of course they do. It's part of the fantasies of many women and men. They are very expensive, but we do a lot of business with them."

There were other items in the specialty area that made Tim turn beet red when he realized their purpose. Elizabeth just laughed. "Poor boy," she said. "This is a whole new world to you. It will take some getting used to, but once you do, you'll be fine."

Tim settled into work. Most of his day consisted of bookkeeping and other paper shuffling. He spoke courteously with his co-workers, but he didn't immediately develop friendships with any of them. He sensed that they resented his intrusion into their world.

During his second week, Elizabeth began asking for his help with purchasing. "You need a comprehensive feel for our cash flow," she said. They sold out of the items Tim purchased in a week.

"That's a wonderful turnaround," she told him. 

"You have a feel for this. Take some catalogs and go nuts." Tim's next line of purchases sold as well as the first, which prompted Elizabeth to ask him to plan a sale. 

They had so much merchandise coming in for what he had planned that he had to stay late every night for a week before the sale to stock and restock. The sale was a huge hit, and it closed out the best month Raven's Intimates ever had.

Tim stayed late as usual on the last day of the sale doing the books. 

When he was done, he wandered down to the sales floor and took in the wreckage left by the customers. A camisole and tap pant set had fallen from the rack, and Tim bent to pick it up. Rather than put it back immediately, he held the silky material in his hands for a minute, then held it up to his cheek. 

The cool, shimmering fabric felt wonderful against his skin.

"They feel nice, don't they?" said a voice from behind him. Tim nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard it. All the color drained from his face when he turned around and saw Elizabeth standing in the doorway. 

"Don't be so embarrassed. It's perfectly all right to like the feel of silk. I'm sure you've worn silk boxers before, haven't you?" Tim shook his head. "No? Just cotton, huh? Too bad. You don't know what you're missing." She smiled broadly, then asked, "Would you like to try them on?"

"Uh...I don't think so. I mean..."

"Oh, come on. It's just us here. No one will see." She gazed at him with her kryptonite eyes, and he felt himself weaken.

"Okay, but just this once," he agreed. She smiled sweetly at him as she led him to a dressing room. As he let the camisole float down over his body, he felt a chill go through him. Once he was completely dressed again, he marveled at the feeling of silk against his skin. Blushing, he exited the dressing room. The caress of silk against his privates was beginning to exact a physical response.

"How does it feel?" she asked.

"It feels good," he stammered. Tim looked at his feet; he couldn't look her in the eye. He felt deeply ashamed.

"You don't look happy about it," she pouted. "What's wrong?"

"I shouldn't be wearing these. It isn't right."

"Nonsense. There is nothing wrong with wearing clothes that make you feel good. If there were, I wouldn't be in business. You like the looks of these clothes, don't you?"

"Well, sure, but..."

"Of course you do. If you didn't, you wouldn't have the success as a buyer that you have had. Now why is it wrong to enjoy these things with your sense of touch as well?"

"I...I...I don't know."

"Of course, you don't know," she said angrily. "That's because there ISN'T anything wrong with it."

He didn't want to argue with her, so he just nodded his head in agreement.

"I think your heart isn't really in your work. I think you need to know more about our product line," she continued. 

"Go ahead and change back if you are so uncomfortable." He complied meekly. When he emerged from the dressing room, she was standing at the door with a box."Here's some homework for you. I want you to substitute your normal attire for what is in this box next week. 

If you are really serious about your job, you'll be wearing them when I spot-check Now, go home and get some sleep. It's been a busy week." 

She leaned up and kissed his cheek, which flustered him so badly that he didn't think to look in the box until he was home.

"You've got to be kidding," he mumbled to himself as he sifted through the contents of the box the next day. Inside were several pairs of panties and tap pants, a few camisoles, some garter belts, and stockings, all made from the finest silk and lace. He closed the box and tried to put it out of his mind for the rest of the weekend.