“I don’t think that’s such a good idea.”

“Well, what do you suggest then?”

“I suggest something more appropriate. Most ladies will find such a gift distasteful.”

He stared at the older woman in front of him. She probably hadn’t had a good relationship in at least 40 years. Maybe ever. He doubted she’d ever had a relationship as passionate as the one he shared with Teena Mulder.

“I really think she would like this.”

“I don’t think it’s an appropriate gift. In fact, I don’t think I’m willing to sell this to you.”

“You cannot refuse to sell a nightie to me.”

“I certainly can. And I am. You can’t buy this. It’s inappropriate.”

He stared at her and sighed, “I cannot believe you’re refusing a sale. Don’t you get commission?”

“I do. I don’t want your filthy money, Sir. I don’t approve of your lifestyle. I don’t approve of what you swingers do. I’ve heard about it.”

He shook his head. He wanted a cigarette, and this old busybody was not being conducive to his quest for a nice gift. “How much would it take for me to bribe you?”

“Please, Sir, I would never accept a bribe.”

He inhaled deeply, glaring at her. He looked around for another salesperson. There didn’t seem to be any, and he didn’t have time to go to another store. There was a copy of Asimov’s The Gods Themselves waiting in the car for him, and he was itching to read it, almost as much as he wanted a cigarette. “Just sell it to me. You don’t have to concern yourself with things like my relationship.”

“You filthy man - I will not sell this to you for such purposes.”

He looked at the nightie appraisingly. It was long, flowing, and elegant. It was made from a beautiful white cotton fabric printed with tiny red flowers, each with three even tinier green leaves. It had beautiful green ribbons to keep it closed. The neckline was just a little modest, and the three-quarter sleeves would complement the porcelain skin of her delicate forearms. He looked up, “I’ll give you twice the price.”

The woman checked the tag, “This is $21, Sir. You’re willing to give me $42?”

He nodded, “Yes, I am. I have it right here, in cash. Just sell it to me.”

“No, Sir. You can buy something nice for your tramp elsewhere.”

His eyes narrowed to slits, “I would like to speak to your manager, Arlene.”

“I am the manager.”

He took a deep breath. All the things in the world he could control, all the people in the world he could intimidate, and here was Arlene. He glanced around again. Not only were there no other salespeople, there were no other customers. It was almost closing time - 6:00. He pulled a $50 bill from his wallet and dropped it on the counter, reaching to pick up the nightie, “Thank you.”

She snatched it away, “No! You filthy men and your lust for women. I won’t stand for it.”

He closed his eyes for a brief moment, “Look, Arlene, just because you haven’t engaged in any sexual activity in your lifetime doesn’t mean the rest of the world has to remain celibate and bitchy. Take the cash, and give me the nightie. You don’t even have to gift-wrap it.”

“Pervert!” she shouted. “You have no right to speak to me that way!”

He glanced at the ceiling, looking for a security camera. Finding none, he grabbed her bony wrist and held her in place as he reached behind the counter and took the nightie. He stepped back, “May I recommend, Arlene, that you take this money and get laid.”

He walked out, ignoring her blustering objections. Teena would be waiting for him in 45 minutes, and he didn’t want to keep her waiting. After all, it was their anniversary.

Step 1. Serve
Step 2. Resist from Within