Pee Bee

Five minutes tops, my ass.

I looked in the mirror. The jeans were old, faded, and worn to the point the thighs were almost transparent. I threw them on the floor beside the others and grabbed another pair from the shelf.

The last pair.

As I pulled them on I realized why they were at the bottom of the stack. An ancient pair that were left from my college football days, they were far too baggy in the thighs, and fit me loose in the waist.

I looked like the clown that my father claimed I was.

Fuck.

I was supposed to pick her up in an hour.

Frustrated, I released the waist of the jeans. They fell to my feet. I grabbed one of the many pair from the pile, pulled them on, and threaded my belt through the loops. After stuffing my feet into my boots, I did a half-assed job of lacing them up and rushed to the garage.

Finding a pair of jeans is easy for someone of normal size. For me? It can be close to impossible, especially in a hurry.

My first stop offered plenty of options.

As long as I didn’t mind capris.

“You might try Casual Male XL,” she said apologetically. “Sorry.”

I looked at my watch. “I’ve got to pick her up in 40 minutes. Where is it?”

“Off of 5, at Midway and Rosecrans. By Sea World.”

It would be on my way to her house. “They’ve got shit that’ll fit me?”

She nodded. “Oh yeah. They carry everything from Ralph Lauren to--”

I took off toward the door in a dead run. “Appreciate ya,” I shouted over my shoulder.

Splitting lanes, I shot south on 5 at over 100 miles an hour. If anyone changed lanes or decided to open their door, I’d be splattered all over the highway. I grinned at the thought of how Tegan and I met, and couldn’t help but laugh to myself at how angry I was at first.

With twenty minutes left, I pulled into the empty parking lot.

A lanky saleswoman who resembled a Victoria’s Secret runway model met me at the door.

She looked at me and grinned. Her eyes fell to my boots, and then slowly rose the length of my frame. “Hi welcome to Casual--”

“Got an emergency,” I said. “I have to be somewhere in twenty minutes, and I need ten to get there. Need a pair of jeans.”

“And a shirt?”

I shrugged. “Sure.”

“You won’t be wearing the…” she wagged her finger at my kutte.

“Yeah, I will.”

She looked disgusted. “Why?”

I wasn’t in the mood to explain the MC’s rules to the judgmental cunt, nor was it any of her fucking business. “Thirty-eight-inch inseam, thirty-four-inch waist. What are my options?”

She grinned a mischievous grin. “Do I know you from somewhere?”

“Nope.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yep.”

She studied me for a few seconds, and then appeared to have an epiphany. “Oh my God. You’re the guy. You were on that reality show. The one with the guys and girls that all lived together and--”

“Yep. That was me.” I wasn’t in the mood. “Look. I’m in a hurry.”

She looked disappointed. “You said thirty-eight. You look like a forty.”

I sighed. “Fine. Whatever.”

“Let me measure you.”

“Just get me a few options in thirty-four, forty.”

She turned away and promptly returned with a fabric measuring tape. She stepped to the side of the aisle and motioned for me to come to her.

Wedged between two SALE displays with the tape dangling from her fingertips, she rested her elbow at her side and cocked her hip. “Relax your stance.”

“I’m relaxed.”

She nodded toward my feet. “Feet closer together. Arms at your sides, please.”

“I just need--”

She knelt in front of me, and then slowly ran her hand along the inside of my thigh, keeping her eyes locked on mine the entire time. As the back side of her fingers grazed against the tip of my cock, she raised both eyebrows slightly.

She glanced at my crotch – which was where her fingertips rested – and widened her eyes.

I looked away and forced out an exaggerated sigh.

Her chest barely cleared mine as she stood. With her face merely inches from mine, she let out a slight breath and then took half a step back.

She reached forward and gripped my biceps lightly. “Sorry, I kind of stumbled.”

Her eyes darted from my arms to my chest, and then to my face. “You’re big.”

Normally, I would have taken her into the dressing room with me and stuffed her full of dick.

Instead, I felt like I’d been molested.

I found her actions and attitude beyond annoying. Convinced I was cheating on my promise to my father, and on my commitment to myself to become more honorable, I looked for an opportunity to fix it.

There was only one way out.

“I didn’t come here to get molested,” I said matter-of-factly. I pulled my arms away from her grasp and crossed them. “I came here for a pair of jeans.”

She swallowed heavily.

I looked at my watch. “I’ve got six minutes.”

Her face blushed bright red. “I was just--”

“Can you grab me some jeans? Please?”

She let out a sigh. “Relaxed fit? Casual? Loose? Straight?”

“I’ve got a date.” I shrugged.

“What will she be wearing?”

“Jeans.” I thought about it, considered that we’d be riding on the bike, and nodded. “Jeans, or shorts.”

She smiled. “Describe her.”

“She hates men, but she’s giving me a chance.” I shrugged one shoulder. “She’s got an adorable smile and brown eyes. But, she’s quick to talk shit. It’s our first date. Whatever you think would look nice.”

She returned with six pairs of jeans and three folded tee shirts. “Take a look at those. The Ralph Lauren’s will fit nice, and the True--”

“You got a dressing room?”

“Let me get a key.”

She walked away.

I glanced at my watch.

Fuck!

I needed to leave.

I checked over each shoulder, and then looked around. There were a few people scattered about, but otherwise, the large store was empty. Still hidden between the two SALE racks, I kicked off my boots, unbuckled my belt, and dropped my jeans to the floor.

I’d never been a modest man.

Standing naked from the waist down, I picked the darkest pair of jeans and pulled them on.

They were long enough, but very low-waisted. The inseam hit me hard in the nuts, and the thighs were so tight it looked like I was trying to smuggle a banana.

I pried them off, kicked them aside, and glanced around. So far, no one was the wiser.

The next pair, another dark pair with horizontal streaks in the fabric of the upper thighs, were modern looking and fit nicely.

I slipped on my boots and checked the length.

Perfect.

I tried on the first tee shirt, a black V-neck. It was fitted, and the perfect size. After getting my wallet and knife from my old jeans, I folded them and tucked them under my arm. A quick survey of the store produced no stares.

No sales lady, either.

After tossing two $100 bills on the floor by the stack of clothes, I rushed out to my bike. Seven minutes later, I was parking the bike in front of Tegan’s apartment.

With two minutes to spare.

* * *

I stepped to the door, inhaled a deep breath, and knocked twice. It opened.

She stood with her purse tucked under her arm, grinning.

“I like your jeans, are they new?”

“Yeah.”

I stared at her.

I couldn’t help it.

Her hair was curled and pinned up, but not in a tight bun. Strands of twisted locks dangled loosely on each side of her face, and a few fell across her forehead. Her jeans were tight from her hips to her ankles, accentuating every curve her body so gracefully formed. Her tee shirt was adorned with a few random shimmery jewels throughout the intricate design, and hugged her like a glove.

On her feet, a worn pair of sneakers.

She was breathtaking, but her shoes looked out of place.

“Is everything okay?”

I looked up. Her brown eyes looked innocent, yet inviting. “Do you have any heels?”

“I do. I mean. I wanted to wear them, but I can’t really. Not on the bike.”

“Can you put ‘em on?” I asked sheepishly.

She motioned toward the living room. “Come in.”

“I’ll just wait here.”

“You sure that I can wear them?”

“It’ll be fine.”

She disappeared into her bedroom.

I took off my kutte, folded it, and walked into the kitchen. After placing it in one of her cabinets, I walked back to my spot outside and turned toward the door.

Now wearing a black pair of heels, she walked toward me with an elegant grace I had no idea she possessed.

Preoccupied with her purse, she had no clue that I was watching. When she reached the door, she looked up.

“Oh wow. I like the tee shirt. It uhhm.” She grinned. “Yeah, I like that. A lot.”

“Thanks. It’s new, too.”

She scrunched her nose. “Where’s your vest?”

“How far can you walk in those things?”

“These?” She shrugged. “It’s not like you’re probably thinking. These are comfortable. I can walk as far in these as you can in those boots, why?”

“Feel like walking?”

“Sure, why?”

“Can’t ride the bike without the kutte. Club rules. With you wearing those heels, the kutte looks out of place. I put it in the kitchen.”

“You can wear it,” she said. “It’s fine.”

“Just for tonight,” I said. “We’ll go like this.”

She smiled. “Just for tonight.”

She locked the door and turned around. For an instant, she looked confused.

I stepped to the side and extended my left elbow. “Slip your arm in there.”

She hooked her right arm through my left, snuggled up to my side, and looked up. She didn’t need to speak, her eyes said everything.

“My real name’s Brad,” I said.

“Nice to finally meet you, Brad.”