© Pender Mackie
“Come on, Steve, I need your help.”
“I hate shopping.”
“I do too. That’s why I need you to be there.” Jon gave him a pleading look.
Steve sighed. He could think of better things to do on a Friday night. “Fine.”
Jon beamed at him then looked down and cursed. “Where the hell is my other shoe?”
Steve watched as he got down to look under the couch.
“Aha!” Jon had to go down on his elbows and stretch out one arm. His ass stuck up in the air. Steve took a good long look and changed his mind. If Jon wanted his help to shop for new jeans, who was he to argue?
Once they hit the mall Steve regretted his decision. Most of the stores were blaring music, trying to complete with the neighboring stores. It wouldn’t have been so bad if they’d been playing the same style but country clashed with rock, which clashed with electronic.
Teenagers clustered around the movie theatre entrance, talking and swearing loudly. Steve mourned his quiet Friday night watching TV and cuddling with Jon. “Are you sure you have to do this tonight?” he asked.
Jon grabbed his arm and dragged him into the Levi’s store. “Look.” He held his shirt out of the way and turned slowly. “These are the best jeans I’ve got and they’re almost threadbare.”
A sales woman approached, her too-wide smile fixed permanently on her heavily made-up face. “Can I help you?”
Jon smiled back. “Yes please. I need some new jeans.”
“What style did you have in mind?”
Steve stood silent as Jon stared at the floor to ceiling wall of neatly folded jeans. He frowned and shifted his weight. “I usually get 501’s or 505’s but I wouldn’t mind trying something new.”
Steve grit his teeth as the saleswoman gave his boyfriend a thorough visual inspection.
“You’d look great in skinnys.”
Jon beamed. “I would? Don’t you think I’m too old?”
“Not at all. You have a very youthful look. Lots of men in their twenties are wearing them.” She eyed Steve. “Of course not everyone can pull it off. Some men are too…muscular.”
Jon bounced on his toes. “I’d like to try them,” he checked her nametag and smiled, “Jennifer.”
Jennifer pursed her lips and tilted her head as she examined Jon. “I’m guessing a size twenty-eight?”
Steve grumbled under his breath. Jon was actually blushing. “I’m more of a size thirty.”
“Skinnys are supposed to be worn tight. Why don’t I find you some in a couple of sizes?”
“What length do you prefer?”
Jon stared at her goggle-eyed. “Huh?”
Steve rolled his eyes. “She wants to know your inseam.”
“Oh. Thirty-two.” Jon’s face was scarlet.
The saleswoman started pulling pairs of folded jeans from the shelves. “We have medium and dark colored denim in those sizes. You should try them both. I think we have black and red too.”
The stack in her arms grew larger. Jon gave Steve a ‘help-me’ look.
“I’m going to look at shirts.” Steve strode off.
A few minutes later he made his way over to the fitting rooms. “Jon?”
“In here. Come here, quick.” Jon unlocked the cubicle’s door and stuck his head out. He grabbed Steve and yanked him into the cubicle, shutting the door behind him.
“Whoa! You look…” Steve bit his lip.
“Fucking stupid! I know.” Jon rubbed the back of his neck.
“No.” Steve stared at Jon, checking out his ass in the three-way mirror. “You look sexy as hell.”
Jon’s head shot up. “I do?”
“Hell, yeah.” Steve moved closer.
Jon backed up. “Steve, this isn’t a good idea. I’m having problems.”
“It’s a great idea.” Steve kissed him long and hard as Jon responded enthusiastically.
They broke for breath and Steve grinned. “I can see your problem.”
“That’s not the problem.”
“No?” Steve watched his hands in the mirror as they kneaded Jon’s firm, round ass.
“The zipper’s stuck. Seriously. I can’t get them off.”
Steve reluctantly let go. “Let me try.” He grabbed the zipper but it wouldn’t budge.
“Hold on.” He held Jon in place with one hand and wiggled the zipper pull with the other.
“God.” Jon put his hands on Steve’s shoulders for balance. “These jeans are way too tight for a hard-on.”
“Excuse me, Jon? How are you making out?”
Steve and Jon froze and stared at each other.
“Jon?” The saleswoman knocked on the door, which swung open under her hand.
Steve saw how it must look to the saleswoman. “We’re not making out,” he growled.
The saleswoman put her hands on her hips. “Right.” She sounded skeptical. “So what exactly is going on here?”
Jon dropped his arms and backed up. “The zipper’s stuck.”
“Are you sure? Do you need some help?”
“No!” Steve and Jon said in unison.
The saleswoman blushed. “No, of course not. Sorry.”
She stood in the doorway. “They do look very nice on you. Perhaps another pair—”
Steve stepped in front of Jon, shielding him. “Go and get him some 501’s and some 505’s in a size thirty. I’ll get him out of these jeans.”
The saleswoman stood, hesitating.
Steve stared her down.
She turned and fled.
“I’m sorry, Steve.” Jon bit his lip.
“It’s okay, babe. It’s not your fault.” He wrenched the zipper down. “Your boxers were caught. You can’t wear boxers with jeans this tight.”
“I guess not.” Jon’s shoulders slumped. “I just wanted to try something new, you know?”
“I know. Listen, why don’t you get two pairs of jeans? Get the kind you normally wear and a pair of the skinnys too. Maybe a size up.”
Jon perked up. “You like them?”
“I like you in them.” Steve kissed Jon and nibbled on his lip. “When we get home you can model them for me and then,” he grinned, “I’ll help you out of them again.”
Pender Mackie lives in Canada though she spent her childhood years in England.
An imaginative child, Pender wasn’t a willing student and didn’t learn to read until her father—deciding some incentive was needed—promised her a pony as soon as she could read a newspaper. Properly motivated, Pender picked up a book and discovered the joys of fiction. Though her infatuation with ponies didn’t last, she still loves a good story.
Pender has been writing M/M romance stories for about three years, but has only just started submitting some of them for publication. She is busy putting the final touches on several others.BLOG FACEBOOK firstname.lastname@example.org