CHRISTMAS SHOPPING AT VICTORIA’S SECRETS

“Hey, Fred.”

“Tyler?  Shit.  What are you doing here?”

“I was on my way to Sears to get a vacuum cleaner for Becky, saw you waving that pair of black lace panties, thought I’d look in and say hi.  I mean I wouldn’t normally be caught dead in a place like this, groping around among women’s underwear.”

“I am not groping around among women’s underwear.  I was examining this pair of black lace panties.”

“I can see that.  Who for?  Terry the marine?”

“Terry’s gone to Iraq.  I’m looking for something for Anne.”

“Sorry.  Can’t keep track of you and your amours.  Is that the yoga instructor with the cropped hair, goes around chanting om?  She wears black lace panties?”

“Mostly, when she’s with me, she doesn’t wear anything at all, Tyler.”

“Oh, excuse me.  What do I know?  I’m just an old, married man.”

“How could I tell?  Let me guess, you were on your way to Sears to buy Becky a vacuum cleaner for Christmas.  That’s what you’re getting your wife – a vacuum cleaner.”

“What’s wrong with a vacuum cleaner?  The old one’s had it.  She’s always complaining it won’t pick up anything bigger than a hair.  I was going to get her one of those spiffy new things that never lose suction, or some crap like that.  She’ll love it.”

“You’ve been married too long Tyler.  How about getting her one of those to go with the vacuum cleaner?”

“The black and red thing?  What is it?”

            “It’s called a bustier.”

            “A what?”

            “Bus tea ay.”

            “Whatever.  What’s with the dangly things?”

            “Jesus.  You have been married too long.  Those are to latch onto the sheer, black stockings you wear with it, along with red, spike-heeled shoes.  Stop poking at it.”

            “It’s got bones.”

            “It’s supposed to.  The bones push everything up, create cleavage.”

            “You really know your underwear, don’t you?  So, let me get this straight, you want me to buy something for Becky that has bones to create cleavage, dangly things that latch onto sheer black stockings, a pair of red, spike-heeled shoes?  This is my wife we’re talking about.”

            “Fine.  Buy it for her so she can vacuum better.”

            “Oh, very funny.”

            “Let me see if I can entice you back into the land of the living.  Just imagine, if you’ve any imagination left after – how many years you been married?”

            “Fifteen.”

            “OK, after fifteen years of marriage.  Anyway, picture this; Becky with her brand new vacuum cleaner, sashaying around the house wearing a black and red bustier, sheer black stockings, and red, spike-heeled shoes – and showing lots of cleavage.   Uh, hello?  Tyler?  Oh, yeah, you get the picture.”

            “What I get is a picture of my twelve-year old son witnessing his mother dressed up like a hooker.”

“So, she’ll vacuum when he’s at school.  Playing football on Saturday.  Goofing off with his friends.  Midnight.  There must be some time he’s not around.”

 “She’d never wear it.”

            “Wanna bet?  She’d look sensational in it.  I don’t know how much vacuuming she’d get done, though.  Wouldn’t be much if I was around.”

            “What do you mean, wouldn’t be much if you were around?  Stop picturing my wife in that, you horny bastard.”

            “Well, you have to admit, your wife’s still pretty hot – even after being married to you for fifteen years.” 

            “You’ve been checking out my wife?  Listen ….”

            “It’s those nice, leisurely lunches we have, while you’re tied up at work.”

            “Just a minute here…”

            “Stop sputtering, Tyler.  I’ve got my hands full with Anne, believe me.  I think I’ll get her these black lace panties.

            “Asshole.   Get another pair.  There’s something wrong with those.”

            “Like what?  I don’t see anything?”

“They have no crotch.  See?  Someone sewed them wrong.”

            “Stop wiggling your fingers through there.  People will think you’re a pervert.  There’s nothing wrong with them.  They’re not supposed to have a crotch.”

            “They make panties without crotches now?  Isn’t that a bit – drafty?  Wait a minute, are you saying my fourteen-year old daughter wears panties without crotches?  And Becky didn’t tell me?”

            “I’m sure your daughter isn’t wearing panties without crotches.  On second thoughts – no, never mind. Get a pair for Becky.”

“Of course, why not? She can wear them with the bustier while she’s vacuuming.”

            “Now you get the picture.  So, when your little man there raises his ugly head, you unplug the vacuum, lay the gorgeous Becky down on the rug, no fuss, no muss, badda badda boom.  That, Tyler my man, is why we have crotchless panties.  What are you looking at me like that for?"

            “Because you are one sick son of a bitch.  I hope you know you’re going to pay fifteen dollars for that half-pair of panties.  I’ll stick to vacuum cleaners, thank you.”

            “Suit yourself, but you could have had one hell of a Christmas.”

One week after Christmas

            “Hey, Fred.   Hope I didn’t wake you.  It’s Tyler.  Just wanted to wish you a Happy New Year and thank you for your advice.”

            Yawn.  “What advice?”

            “After I bought the vacuum cleaner, I couldn’t stop thinking about Becky pushing it around in that bustier thing, so I bought it.  Cost me eighty dollars and another fifteen for a pair of sheer black stockings to go with it.  You were right.  She loved it.  Sure spiced up our sex life for a while.  Actually, I’m thinking for her birthday I might buy her a pair of those black, lace crotchless panties to go with the new dishwasher she’s been wanting.  What do you think?”