Andrew was coming to the end of his three-week secondment to the tights department at Barrington’s department store. He dreaded having to return to the shoe department. It wasn’t that he was unhappy there, it just didn’t give him the same joy that hosiery did. And he was really good at selling tights and stockings. Customers were giving him compliments on his great service.
On his penultimate day, Ella the floor manager asked to see him. She got straight to the point.
“Andrew, Lisa won’t be coming back to Barrington’s. Family issues. Since you’ve been covering for her, sales in Hosiery have shot up 77%. How would you feel about making a permanent move?”
Andrew sat up, his heart racing. “That’s fine by me” he said nervously.
“Great,” said Ella. “Keep up the good work and you might be in for a nice bonus.”
Andrew wasn’t going to tell her that getting to handle stockings and tights all day was all the bonus he needed. But he’d be daft to turn down extra money and he certainly wasn’t going to mention his fetish. That was his little secret, and he intended to keep it that way. He would never go too far; he had no wish to impose his fetish on unknowing clients. So when he served women, he was careful to show enough interest in meeting their needs, but without going over the top.
Later that day, his first customer appeared. Andrew became giddy with excitement as a woman of about forty-five sporting a classic lady boss look that Andrew admired, walked into his section. She wore smart suits and was well-groomed.
“I’m looking for stockings that won’t ladder on the first wear” she said demandingly.
“Yes, it’s very annoying when that happens. We have a new brand in, Long Life, that guarantee six months of wear. If they ladder before then, you get a full refund and a replacement pair. So be sure to keep your receipt!” Andrew replied.
She took the packet from him and looked it over. “Well, we’ll see. Yes, these will do. I must say, you do seem very knowledgeable about your stock.”
“Professional pride,” said Andrew.
She looked at him and raised an eyebrow. Andrew began to suspect that she knew a thing or two about hosiery fetish herself. But the signs were subtle and he didn’t want to make a mistake.
“Let me ring those up for you” he quickly interjected.
As she handed over her credit card, he stole a glance at her name.
It read Mallory Day.