This Man (Page 142)

He moves to the side, keeping his hand exactly where it is, and looks at the pants dubiously. Admittedly, they do look like a pair of trousers for the world’s most obese man, but once you figure them out, they’re super comfy for knocking around the house on a lazy day.

‘Here, let me show you.’ The stall owner takes the trousers from my grasp and kneels in front of me.

I feel Jesse’s palm tense on my back. ‘We’ll take them.’ he spits out fast.

Oh, here comes a trample!

‘You need a demo.’ Dread’s says cheerfully, jiggling the opening of the trousers at my feet.

I lift my foot to step into the trousers, only to have myself tugged back slightly. I glance up at him, flashing a warning look. He’s being ridiculous. The man’s just being friendly.

‘You have great legs, Miss.’ Dreads says happily.

I cringe. ‘Thanks.’ Don’t encourage him!

‘Give me those.’ Jesse snatches the pants from Dread’s before positioning me with my back to a shelf full of candles. Shaking his head and muttering under his breath, he kneels on one knee and opens the pants for me. I smile sweetly at Dreads, who seems to be oblivious to Jesse’s trampling performance, probably too spaced out to notice. I step into the pants, pulling them up while Jesse holds onto the two gaping sides, his frown line deep on his forehead. God love him!

I quickly take control of the wrapping for fear of Dreads trying to intercept. ‘Like this, see?’ I fold the pants over, tying them on the side.

‘Wonderful,’ Jesse mocks, looking at them in confusion. His eyes find mine, and I break out in a full smile. He shakes his head, his eyes twinkling. ‘Do you want them?’

I start to unfasten and remove the trousers under Jesse’s watchful eye. ‘I’m paying.’ I inform him.

He rolls his eyes on a disgusted snort, taking a wad of notes from his pocket. ‘How much for the oversized trousers?’ he asks Dreads.

‘Just a tenner, my friend,’

I fold them up, shoving them in the bag. ‘I’m paying for the trousers, Jesse.’

‘Is that it?’ Jesse shrugs as he shoves a note at Dreads.

‘Cheers,’ Dreads shoves it in his bum-bag.

‘Come on.’ he says, his hand replaced on the exposed flesh of my back.

‘You didn’t have to trample the poor man.’ I moan. ‘And I wanted to pay for the pants.’

He pulls me into his side, pressing his lips into my temple. ‘Shut up.’

‘You’re impossible,’

‘You’re beautiful. Can I take you home now?’

I shake my head at my challenging man. ‘Yes.’ My feet are aching. And I have to commend him on his tolerance of my leisurely meander today. He’s been pretty reasonable.

I let him lead me through the crowds until we emerge from the packed alley, where the sound of booming, heavy techno music assaults my ears. I look over, seeing neon lights creeping from the darkness of the factory building and crowds of people gathering at the entrance. I’ve never been in the place, but it’s famed for its off the wall club wear and wild accessories.

‘You want to see?’

I look up at Jesse and find he’s followed my gaze to the entrance of the factory. ‘I thought you wanted to go home.’

‘We can have a quick look.’ He redirects us to the entrance, leading me into the dimly lit space.

The music pounds my ear drums as we enter. The first thing I notice is two club dancers, kitted out in hi-visibility underwear, performing some pretty jaw dropping moves on a metal suspended balcony. I can’t help but stare. You would think we were in a nightclub in the early hours. Jesse directs me to an escalator that takes us down to the bowels of the factory. As we reach the bottom, my eyes are assaulted, being attacked by florescent clothing in every colour and description. Do people wear this stuff?

‘It’s not lace, is it?’ he muses, catching me gawking at a bright yellow miniskirt, with metal spikes protruding from the hem line.

‘Lace, it’s not,’ I agree. It’s hideous. ‘Do people wear this stuff?’

He laughs, nodding at a group of people, who look like they might pass out with excitement. They must have a million piercings between them. He leads me through the maze of corridors. I’m completely engrossed by my surroundings. This is serious clubbing attire for the hardcore clubber.

We wander around the metal maze of steel corridors and down some more stairs, finding ourselves closed in on every angle by…sex toys. I cringe. The music is louder and absolutely vulgar. I gape as I listen to some demented woman screaming about sucking c**k on the dance floor, while a leather clad dominatrix type grinds her crotch up and down a black metal pole. I’m not a prude, but this is way past my comprehension. Okay, we’re in the adults department, and I’m feeling extremely uncomfortable. I look, very nervously, up at Jesse.

His eyes are twinkling, his expression displaying an abundance of amusement. ‘Shocked?’ he asks.

‘-ish,’ I admit. It’s not so much the merchandise – it’s the pierced, tattooed, virtually naked bird in the corner, wearing eight inch platforms and performing some highly illicit moves. That’s what’s got me scooping my tongue up from the floor.

Holy f**king shit! Does Jesse go for all this shit?

‘It’s a bit over the top, isn’t it?’ he muses, pulling me over to a glass cabinet. I exhale a sigh of relief at his statement.

‘Wow!’ I blurt, coming face to face with a huge, diamante embellished vibrator.