{Mimi} LET ME HELP WITH THAT //

[wesley]

Shopping was not common practice for Wesley. Unless, of course, his shopping trip included a 7 Eleven and some beef jerky. Grocery stores, specifically, were more frightening to him than a doctor performing a prostate exam. Even with a map, he was fairly certain that he could get lost and killed in a store like that and not be found for days. If nothing else, he was at least thankful that the alcohol was typically an easy thing to find. It was venturing into the other aisles that really started to cause the problems. Boxed food? Spices? And who the hell needed that many options for cheese? Really, unless a store had a good deli, he couldn’t say much for it. He could handle the meat and the grill, but give him anything else and he was lost. It was for that reason that he stuck to his six packs and frozen pizzas. Call it an unhealthy diet, but it got him through. Seeing as how he was used to fast food and anything that a hotel may have to offer, it seemed like a step up because he actually had to turn on the oven. Sure, his aunt had been willing to cook for him, but the comforts of home came with a nice microwaveable meal and a Corona. Though, he wouldn’t pass up a home cooked meal every now and again.

Pulling in front of the grocery store, Wesley couldn’t help but groan lightly. While he would’ve loved to use the excuse that it was due to the pain, the truth of the situation was that he was simply not looking forward to the little… ‘trip.’ Frankly, the displeasure showed on his face. Doubtless anyone that was walking through the parking lot at the same time as him would either think he was looking to pick a fight or that something was stuck up his ass. Since he was fairly certain it wasn’t the latter, he had to admit that picking a fight sounded more enjoyable to him right now than wandering up and down aisles just trying to find the peanut butter. At least that would add some excitement to this trip. Unfortunately for him, the parking lot was not swimming with people, leaving just him and an old woman loading up her car. He was pretty sure he could take her if he wanted too.

Ignoring the blatant urge to tick someone off just for the hell of it, he pulled open the door and begrudgingly grabbed himself a cart. If he could man up enough to ride a bull, he could handle this. Just another trial that life was sending his way and he’d grab it by the horns… or, technically, handlebar. Looking up at the signs that marked what was in each aisle, Wesley decided to start with something familiar and headed first for the liquor. Something felt a lot better about pushing a cart with some booze in it than otherwise. He didn’t want to get for feminized, after all. This way, he could still do something like grocery shop and appear manly. Sounded like a good plan to him. The only problem was that, as soon as he’d completed that area of his checklist, he wasn’t sure where to go next. Putting off the dilemma of not knowing where everything was hardly offered him a good solution.

So, the dance began. One that could only be described as… pitiful. Wandering up and down each aisle in hopes of finding the three things he actually wanted, Wesley certainly did not look like he belonged. That only intensified when his wandering of the aisles landed him smack dab in the middle of the feminine products. Logic told him that he was not going to find either a pizza or peanut butter here. What made it worse is that he was not the only person in the aisle; and the other person actually had a reason to be there, he was assuming. Clearing his throat to himself and ducking his head a bit, he did his best to pass by unnoticed. No, it was not that time of the month. And no, he was not interested in buying any tampons. And, no, he did not realize that women needed so many options when it actually came time to buy tampons. It would just be better for everyone if he just got his ass out of there as quickly as possible.

[/size]

[mimiriter]

”Are you kidding me?”

Grocery store marketing techniques were a joke. Actually, they were probably really effective- sugary cereals on low shelves to attract the kids, healthy cereals in reach of the adults. But Mimi didn’t like the way things were set up. She was, of course, just immensely bitter that she was limited to the shelves she could reach. It just pissed her off.

Most of the time, this wasn’t an issue. Her shopping wasn’t extensive. Her diet was simple: wine, coffee, hot pockets, bread, jelly. She didn’t normally have problems with those. But what seemed to give her the toughest time was those products in the more feminine aisle. She swore the employees did it to piss her off. This was a dramatic assumption, of course, but they always moved her favorite brands up to the higher shelves whenever she really needed them.

Bitches.

This was precisely the issue that Mimi was having now. Humans were creatures of habit, and she was no different. It had taken her years to learn the art of choosing a tampon. It was an art, really- just ask any woman ever. So ever since she was twenty-seven, Mimi had been getting the same brand, almost stubbornly. She liked her comfort. No issue with that.

Since moving to Capeside, she had gotten pretty damn lucky. Back in New York, the store closest to her changed their layout up as often as Taylor Swift changed men (or so she had picked up from some of her students, anyways). The shelves at that grocery store, however, had been sturdy enough to hold her weight long enough for her to grab the right box if she needed to climb up. In Capeside, thus far, they had been relatively consistent in their placing. But for some reason, the employees decided to be jackasses and change things around, putting her usual brand on the top shelf. The top. Damn. Shelf. Seriously? And on top of that, the shelves were too flimsy-looking to risk climbing on.

Mimi had been standing in the aisle for a good five minutes, just staring, when out of the corner of her eye she caught glimpse of a man. Well then. Cocking an eyebrow, she stepped back and wondered for a second why a man was in this type of an aisle. Her gaze flitted down to his left hand- no ring. So… No wife. Girlfriend? Some poor whipped guy? Someone with a weird fetish? Who knew. All she knew was that he was tall and could probably be of help to her.

”Hey, Bro,” she piped up, nodding her head towards him in an attempt to get his attention. She had very little shame- if she needed something minor like this, she wasn’t afraid to ask. Although she was an independent woman, she had long since learned that in situation like these, it was better to ask than make a scene if something went wrong. Mimi leaned up against his cart, cocking an eyebrow. ”Alright, here’s the deal. I need you to do me a favor and get that box-“ she paused, pointing up to the item she wanted, ”and if that’s going to ruin your masculinity and you’re going to have problems, then I’ll either give you five bucks or blow you. But either way, you’re tall, and I need this done.” Staring up at him, she tapped her finger on the cart, waiting for a response. No shame.

[wesley]

Damn.

He had been so close to freedom. Was it too late to still make a run for it? Not if he didn’t want to look like a lunatic. Pausing in his step, he glanced sideways a bit at the voice of the woman. Why did he have to turn down this aisle? Doing his best to hide a grimace, Wesley couldn’t help but miss a few of the things she’d said. It wasn’t until she was actually done that he stopped to reconsider what he’d just heard. He was hearing things, wasn’t he? She can’t have just offered him a blow job for a pack of tampons. Or, maybe she did; maybe that was her day job and it was just a normal thing for her. Not that it was a normal thing to just be asked by some random woman in a supermarket. Hell, he’d never even been asked by one of his girlfriends. At the moment, he was definitely hoping someone would pinch him… or, strike that, seeing as how the only person around was the woman offering said service.

Raising an eyebrow a bit, confusion set in across his face. “I’m sorry… I don’t think I heard you, ma’am.” The way he saw it, asking for clarification was better than assuming. She could’ve said any number of things and he wouldn’t have know, he was far too occupied trying not to hear or see things in this aisle. Regardless, his eyes did drift up towards what she had pointed at. And, again, despite himself, he found his mouth opening and another question popping out. “What’s so special about those?” By the time he realized what he was asking, it was already too late and the words wouldn’t go back in his mouth. He didn’t want to know that answer. Didn’t want to ask that question. Didn’t want to think about that question. Why a woman picked what she picked was up to her and her only.

Shaking his head quickly, he couldn’t help but grimace again. “Forget I just asked that. I… don’t want to know.” Clearing his throat, he scanned the aisle quickly for any method of escape. Pull it together, Wesley. You look like a deer in the headlights.

Doing his best to offer a quick, nervous smile, he abandoned the safety of his cart long enough to take a step across the aisle and reach up to the box. There was a moment’s hesitation before he finally pulled the thing down and handed it over; afraid, perhaps, that something was going to jump out and attack him. Thankfully, that was not the case and he was able to retreat back to the shield his cart offered without injury or any—lasting—harm done to him or his psyche. Shifting slightly, he dropped his gaze to look at her cart rather than her, finding it easier to confront something like a bottle of tea than the four-foot-nothing woman to his right.

“So, um… anything else I can help you with, ma'am?” Damn his hospitality. The question wasn’t even a voluntary one as much as it was instinct and reaction to having done something for a person. He had already started praying that the answer was no and she was ready to be on her way. But, considering her previous statement, he was fairly confident that ‘no’ was not the next answer he was going to receive. Regardless, he did his best to keep his friendly smile and unfrightened look in place. It was working… right?

[/size]

[mimiriter]

Mimi found some people to be… Curious beings. They piqued her interest if they were at all weird and awkward and she wanted to know more about them. She was used to people who were confident and cocky, such as Marco- he’d had no trouble talking to her and then, later on, seducing her. She liked to surround herself with people who she could banter with, who she could try to dominate but would give her a bit of a challenge. But then she met some people who seemed so… Nervous and awkward around her, and it made her want to go after them. She made it into a game, really. She often made things into a game in her head; ‘see how long it takes them to get hard’, ‘what happens if I put my hand here’, ‘see how long it takes me to seduce him’. The titles could use a little work, but all in all, she had fun. She found that seducing people was fun even when they were awkward, because they seemed to just get even more awkward when they realized she was actively trying to get them into bed. Part of her just liked to see if she could do it, while another wanted to see if they’d step up to the plate, while the final was just interested in seeing how awkward she really could make the guy. She didn’t view sex as anything ‘special’ anymore. Perhaps she never had. She’d always had a sultry way about her actions and a desire to see how much fun she could have with just being an attractive woman.

She wasn’t really sure what she was expecting out of this guy’s reaction to her offering up a blow job in exchange for him grabbing some tampons off of the shelf for her, but she hadn’t really expected him to look so uneasy and awkward about it. Mimi was used to being around guys who would throw her suggestive looks, make some sort of inappropriate comment, then get them down for her. Not stumble their way through asking about her choice of brand before rethinking and backtracking. Curious, Mimi stepped back, a smirk playing along her lips as she watched him get the box down for her and hand them over. It was like he thought they were poison. ”They fit me nicely,” she offered as an unwanted explanation, tossing them into her own cart before turning back.

If she had any kindness to her whatsoever, she probably should have let the poor guy go and get on his way. But he was too good looking and awkward for her to just let him walk away without giving him a little bit more of a hard time. So when he asked her if there was anything else he could do for her, she smirked and cocked an eyebrow, planting a hand on her hip. ”Yeah, I think there’s something else you could do for me,” she began, quickly racking her brain for something good. Mimi was pretty confident that everyone thought she was a terrible person, but really, she was just having a little fun. Finally, after making a spectacle of looking him up and down, she continued, ”What’s your name, Cowboy?” Oh, goodness gracious. Poor guy.

[/justify][/size]

[wesley]

Why? Wesley had almost decided, right then and there, that he was never going to step into a grocery store again unless he had someone else with him—preferably someone that knew their way around. It was ridiculous that, of all the places he could have an entirely awkward and nerve-wracking situation like this, it would be in the one place he was already pissy enough. Couldn’t people just realize that, as a man, this was not his domain? Did he look like he shopped here often? Or, really, anywhere for that matter. Not only was he not familiar with the grocery aspect of things, he also wasn’t all that attune to other such places. By the wearing in his jeans and the dirt covered boots, it wasn’t all that apparent that he got new clothes, either. It was not his cup of tea. Now, he just needed to figure out how to get others to realize this.

Shifting momentarily in the aisle, he realized that, out here, he was exposed. Not necessarily that this woman was going to attack him, but just the thought of standing idly in the aisle was discomforting. Moving quickly back to the safety of his own cart and the shield it offered him. Hopefully he didn’t make that part of it too obvious; it wasn’t that he wanted to tell the woman across from him that she was ugly or anything, but he felt much more… secure with a few feet separation. In fact, from behind his cart, he had to admit that there was absolutely nothing wrong with the woman in front of him—despite, maybe, her idea of how one should communicate with a stranger. But ugly was far from the truth when he actually felt comfortable looking at her. Or, rather, looking her over. Call it human nature, but when Wesley saw something nice, regardless of nerves, he would still look… if only for a minute.

As soon as he had asked if she needed anything else, he knew it was a bad idea. And, apparently, that was true. Because, when he was hoping he would be able to slip away, she was saying that she needed him again. Dropping his gaze once more, he did his best to smile convincingly and nod a bit. He was about to say ‘Whatever you need’ when she asked his name. That, of course, was not what he was expecting. In fact, it threw him off guard slightly. His name? That wasn’t so strange a request. Maybe it was a little late in their interaction to backtrack and get a name… but he could at least oblige.

Letting his fake smile fade more into a comfortable smirk, he nodded a bit. “Wesley Stone.” He paused, clearing his throat and letting his eyes once again return to look at his cart. “Or Wes. Either works… not too picky.” Damn. It was painful just to hear himself. Was he really that pathetic when it came to a decent conversation? For some reason, if they had breasts they were another species… a foreign and confusing one, at that. One that could tie his tongue into knots and cause him to make a complete fool of himself.

Maybe someday, there’d be a girl who found it endearing… or bearable. Whichever.

[/size]

[mimiriter]

In the time it took for Wesley to respond to her, she noted that he was, indeed, good looking. She wasn’t sure if she really had a type, but ‘cowboys’ never really seemed to be her thing. She liked artsy men just as much as she liked rugged men, though- as long as they were physically appealing and not a pain in the ass to be around, Mimi was satisfied with them and would give them a chance. She wasn’t nearly as judgmental as she claimed to be. Honestly, she was mostly just talk- she didn’t hate as many people as she said she did, either. She wasn’t a mean person, she just liked to keep up the general pretense that she was because Mimi felt like that was more of a fun way to go about things. In her head, it made sense. No worries. Anyways, she liked the look of this guy. She didn’t understand why he was so awkward, though- most of the time, the good looking men in her life embraced that aspect of themselves and asserted it whenever possible. Maybe he had a girlfriend, which was why he was in this aisle to begin with (whipped) and why he was acting so awkward around her. She temporarily thought about stopping and backtracking based on that assumption, but at the same time… Well, she was already a home wrecker. Might as well keep it up for laughs, right?

She was going to hell. Certainly.

He told her his name and she kept the smirk on her face (it was almost always there- that or a scowl), planting her hand on her hip. ”Wesley Stone, eh? I like it, but I think I’ll keep calling you Cowboy.” She placed her foot on the bottom rack of the cart, hoisting herself up onto it so he couldn’t move it without carrying her with him. Boy either had to abandon his cart of whiskey or keep up with her- a test to see what was a bigger priority, yeah. That, and she just liked the idea of being as obnoxious as possible at the moment. ”I’m Mimi. Mimi Riter. I am not a cowboy. I like riding things, though.” Her smirk softened into an innocent-looking grin. ”Do you like riding things? You must. You’re a cowboy.”

Okay, so that wasn’t subtle. Or all that witty/clever/etc. But it definitely worked if she was going to make this guy feel uncomfortable. After all, he was surrounded by tampons being hawked down by a woman who had made it her very intention to see how much he could squirm- she had no shame. Really. This was Capeside, sure, but the chances that she’d ever really see this guy were slim to none.

So no.

No shame.

[/justify][/size]

[wesley]

With the reiteration of the nickname ‘Cowboy’ by the girl, he actually managed a small smile. Somehow, it seemed more comforting to be referred to as something other than his name. Maybe because he was secretly afraid this woman was partly crazy, and therefore willing to do something crazy. With his actual name, it made it a lot easier to stalk things. With a nickname, there was a certain anonymity. Although, that really only worked if he introduced himself as Cowboy, not Wesley Stone. But, hindsight, right? Not like it really mattered. The girl was like four-foot nothing and he was pretty sure he would be okay. Shifting once more, his shoulders lifted in just a bit of a shrug as he brought his gaze up from his cart to look at her. “Whatever works best.” As he spoke, he rose an eyebrow quickly and realized that she was no longer standing in the aisle. Rather, she was on his cart. It wasn’t exactly what he expected to see.

Seeing as how he really didn’t feel like asking her to get off—at least, not quite as bluntly as ‘Alright, off my fucking cart’. Frankly, when it came right down to it, this woman was more intimidating than he thought. And that much more attractive. It could definitely be said that she was persistent. Maybe even aggressive, though not in the anger sort of way. Wesley had to admit that he liked that, despite still feeling completely uncomfortable. He liked a woman that was forceful enough to go for what she wanted… not that he really knew what she wanted at the moment.

“It’s a… pleasure, Ms. Riter.” As he spoke he found his eyes unintentionally going towards her left hand, just to insure that ‘Ms’ was the right thing to say. Although, he really hoped it was, considering her behavior. He would’ve found it hard to believe that she had someone waiting at home for her and she was still willing to act like that. “I… I guess. I mean, normally they’re pissed off bulls…” He paused, shrugging slightly and letting his small smile slid back onto his face. “But… there exceptions to every rule, right?”

Flirting was definitely not Wesley’s thing. Getting the girl was the hard part. At least, he found that to generally be the case when he was trying to get a girl. Whereas times like this, when they just randomly came out of no where, the result was sometimes confusing. Hell, he wasn’t even sure if she was flirting or if she was just confused as to how to act socially appropriately. Maybe both. But, at the same time, he wasn’t asking her to leave just yet. He wasn’t walking away—not that it’d help unless he just left his cart, and he wasn’t about to walk away from his whiskey. That, and Mimi was attractive. On the off chance she was flirting with him, why leave so soon? Maybe he’d be able to add one more state to his list.

[/size]

[mimiriter]

The more Mimi stood on his shopping cart, the more she began to rethink just how this guy must’ve been viewing her. So, okay. He probably thought she was crazy. But at the same time, the chances that she’d really see this guy again were slim to none. Sure, they lived in a small town, but she managed to avoid people she really didn’t want to see. Plus, why hadn’t she ever seen this guy before? Or noticed him, at the very least. He could think her as crazy as he pleased because it amused her to no end and she’d rather play her little head games as opposed to tiptoeing around. Hell, if she didn’t want to play this little game, she’d just leave. She really didn’t expect him to sleep with her, anyways. He seemed like the kind of guy who didn’t get laid all that often because he just stuttered his way through conversations. Or maybe he just didn’t often encounter women who made it their main goal to see him squirm- that was also a great possibility. Either way, she didn’t expect anything to come to this. She’d probably have a little chuckle about it later while drinking her wine and then forget about it the very next day. With that line of thought, there was really no reason for her not to let loose and say whatever the hell she wanted. She might traumatize him but he’d quickly get over it and they’d get on with their lives. Really. No big deal.

”Pleasure is all mine. Hopefully, anyways.” A smirk, although inwardly she flinched. Okay, perhaps that was a bit too forward. Dial it back, find a new footing. His next words, though, took her aback. Well, once they clicked, anyways. At first she was extremely tempted to make some sort of inappropriate comment regarding interspecies erotica and bull cocks, but then it finally struck her- this guy just wasn’t wearing cowboy boots. Her eyes widened a little and she found herself perhaps a bit too excited at this discovery than she should have been, her smirk softening into a somewhat genuinely fascinated smile. ”Holy shit, you’re a legit cowboy? Get out of here. That’s crazy. You seriously ride bulls? I feel like that’s just asking to be killed. I don’t even like horses. Actually, I hate horses. I mean, I’m small. So I feel like if I fell off of it I’d get really injured. Or maybe that’s just me being dramatic. Either way, I’d never ride a bull. You’re crazy. At least you’re good looking.”

Okay, damn. So much for that hard core teasing. Whatever.

Deciding to just take a step back (metaphorically- no way was she getting off that damn cart), Mimi peered in to see the contents. ”Whiskey? My kinda grocery list. Solid choice, my friend. Solid choice.”

[/justify][/size]

[wesley]

If this was what grocery store visits were to become in the future, Wesley wasn’t quite certain if he wanted to avoid it at all costs or start coming whenever he could. There was certainly an appeal to having attractive women attach themselves to your cart and start flirting with you. Sure, the actually approach and the fact that he had to reply left something to be desired, but as long as you got there, right? He wasn’t going to complain or tell her to get away just because he was feeling awkward. If he told people to leave him alone every time he was feeling awkward, he’d have a lot fewer friends. Seeing as how it was useful to have friends now and then, he was thankful that he didn’t operate under those rules.

Clearing his throat for probably the tenth time during their interaction, Wesley did his best to keep a smile on his face and his gaze on Mimi; something that was easier said than done. Wesley wasn’t exactly sure when his uncertainty around women started, but he knew that it wasn’t getting any better on its own. Maybe forcing himself to have conversations would be a good way to get over it.

That, or it’d just confirm his irrational doubts that women were to be avoided for anything other than sexual needs.

It was Mimi’s little tangent about him being an actual cowboy that brought his attention fully to her. For one, his job was something that he was fully confident about. He could’ve rambled for hours about his job and not given it a second thought, regardless of who he was talking too. But the fact that she mentioned being small and afraid of horses—let alone bulls—it brought a different answer to his mind altogether. Wesley had always been under the impression that it wasn’t how tall or large you were when it came to bull riding—it was how well you knew how to control and move with the bull. Shrugging his shoulders lightly, the man leaned against the cart slightly and made sure that it wasn’t going to roll anywhere or start to come partially off the ground under what (little) weight Mimi had. “Size doesn’t really matter…” He paused again with another shrug and managed to reassert his rather uneasy smirk onto his face. “It’s like a dance, in a sense… except your partner is a half-ton or more bull. It’s just about knowing how to move with the other… feeling it out; acting and reacting accordingly.” This time, he dropped his gaze a bit to glance more at the items in his cart then her. Had he kept looking at her, he was sure that his thoughts would’ve started going in a completely different direction. Not that he was altogether opposed, but asking a woman to go take a roll around the hay in the supermarket was hardly classy.

“Doesn’t matter your size, ‘long as you know how to control yourself… and your partner.” While, in a vague sort of way, that could’ve been applied to his bull riding analogy, he was fairly certain he just failed. Flirting was not his cup of tea.

Thankfully, a few moments later, she saw fit to mention the contents of his cart and it gave him at least a minor distraction. “Just the staples, right? That’s what I say.”

[/size]