Sheldon Jeffrey Sands goes shopping Day 3 part 2
As Victoria showered, Sands stood within his walk-in closet, deciding which color best suited his mood. When he'd been human, men wore bright colors. Then the Puritans had brought in doom and gloom and gradually men's wardrobes had descended into dark murky colors and white shirts. How abysmally boring.
It wasn't until the 1960's that color had begun to creep back into men's clothes, and Sands was quick to take advantage of that. It was also when he had come up with the idea to have several males every ten years or so, be born with his name. It wasn't hard for someone with the persuasive powers of a vampire to induce pregnant women into naming their sons Sheldon Jeffrey Sands. His little joke on the world.
He kept tabs on the boys, dismissing those who didn't do well in school, and following those who excelled. Their appearance didn't matter much. He knew how to disguise himself.
This use of other people's lives was how Sheldon had gotten into the C.I.A. Despite their exhaustive research into the background of Sheldon Jeffrey Sands, they'd only discovered the background of the young man he had disposed of. Luckily the fellow had his coloring and he didn't have to die his hair (again). He simply assumed the man's identity after disposing of the body in a way that insured it would never be found.
Of course, now that the C.I.A. incarnation of himself had been blinded, he could no longer go strolling into Langely and put back on the guise of spy. He'd love that particular role. It had brought him adventure, danger. Of course, the unfortunately business with his eyes. But like all good vampires, he'd regenerated. It had taken 9 months of blindness, but eventually his eyes had grown back, his sight returned, and he got out of the spy business. Not only that, but he had a tidy pension from the government for his disability. All ended well, he thought as he perused his closet.
Despite the distance between them, he could still hear Victoria. So she wanted to go to the Met, he thought. That sounded civilized.
Blue. He would wear blue. Today he felt like a little jewelry too - to show the bitches at the boutique he had money - and blue. So much for originality, he thought, tugging on his blue jeans. He slipped into socks and remembered that the boots he'd worn last night were still somewhere downstairs. He donned a denim shirt and a long thick gold chain. Dangling from it were charms he'd picked up in his travels. He fingered one from Tahiti, another from Hamburg. Each a memento of a person or experience. He'd tried having tattoos for a while, but they all disappeared in about nine months. There was one he'd had repeatedly died into his skin. He glanced down at his left hand. It would need to be redone in another month or so.
Going downstairs, he located his boots on the floor by the painting Victoria had admired, put them on and searched for his coat. His wallet was in the coat. He always carried five one-hundred dollar bills and two credit cards. It was enough to get him by in a scrape. He also had several fake passports hidden in various locations both within his apartment, and other safe places without. He would not be trapped. Not again.
Sands was about to go out, when his gaze passed over the Honeywell home meteorology console hanging by the door. He'd had it installed to remind him that he could not go out without looking the part of a human. Humans paid attention to the weather. It was forty degrees outside. A jacket would be needed.
He reached into the hall closet and pulled out a suede and shirring lamb's wool jacket. Slipping it on, he checked the pockets. Gloves were within the left one. Fine. But he didn't need gloves just yet.
He grabbed the door key from its hook, and went out to the elevator.
A few moments later, he was downstairs. Wind lashed at him, stronger than last night's. The sky gray, threatened rain or worse. He took a deep breath. There was at least one other vampire nearby, other than Victoria. He looked around. He could tell the direction of the other vampire was across the street in the park, but he couldn't see who it might be.
Shirking it off, he headed to his right down the long city block, turning on Park Avenue and heading toward the boutique he'd passed by so often, but never entered. People walked by swiftly today, their hands stuffed in their pockets, mufflers around their necks. He tried to remember to look cold.
The boutique, Cher-E-O's, catered to the wealthy. It's spacious layout reminded him of a scene from "Pretty Woman." He walked in and looked around for something that would strike him as being good for Victoria. He didn't often go shopping for women's clothes. The last time had to be in the 50's. He felt like a kid in a candy shop because he could decide how Victoria's lovely body was dressed, then later tonight, he could undress her. That thought brought a smile to his mouth.
He could hear the sound of approaching footsteps. Putting a dazed expression on his face, Sands raised his eyes up to look at the second floor.
"May I help you find something?" the sales clerk asked.
Acting surprised, Sands turned to look at her. She was thin with a small pierced bead in her left nostril. She looked like a poster child for starving third world nations, despite her blond hair and pale skin. Model- envy, he thought meeting her eyes.
"Thank you. I am buying something for my girlfriend." He offered a dazzling smile and a little shrug.
"What did you have in mind?" she spoke more slowly, her eyes studying every detail of his face.
He thought. Met? Or something more interesting? "Leather pants. A top that feels nice." He put on the stupid-male routine.
"What size does she wear?" Now her speech was breathier.
"Well." He held up his hands. "She's this tall. And curved like this." He demonstrated. "Mabye an 8?"
The sales clerk's eyes were glued to his mouth now. "All right. You stay right here and I'll bring the clothes to you." She reached out quickly and touched the sleeve of his jacket. "Oh, you must be warm. Here let me take that for you."
She moved around behind him and helped him shrug out of his jacket. He cast her a grateful smile. She returned his smile with a more seductive one of her own, before turning to hang his coat over the back of a chair. She patted the chair. "Sit."
"No thank you," he said. He watched her walk off toward the leather section.
"Is Casees helping you?" another sales clerk asked. This one was black, voluptuous and more mature than the skinny one.
"Yes, I guess she is." He continued his shy smile routine.
By the time Casees came back with some clothes for him to choose from two more sales clerks had come to chat with him.
"She's closer to Grace in size," Sands told Casees.
"Eight," Grace mouthed.
"Eight, you guessed correctly," Casees grinned. She held up black leather hip hugging pants.
"Those are exactly what I had in mind." He raised a brow, imagining Victoria in them.
"Oh, this top would look wonderful with them." Melissa held up a black knit top of clingy micro-fiber. "And it feels so soft."
"I'll take them," Sands said.
"Cash or charge?" Melissa asked, bringing her face closer to his than was necessary.
"Cash."
Twenty minutes later, Sands let himself into the apartment, a white bag with "Cher-E-O's" in one hand. He looked out toward the wall-high windows. It had just started to rain. He wondered if Victoria liked to dance. "Victoria, I've been shopping. What to see what I've bought you?" he said in a sing song playful tone.
As Victoria showered, Sands stood within his walk-in closet, deciding which color best suited his mood. When he'd been human, men wore bright colors. Then the Puritans had brought in doom and gloom and gradually men's wardrobes had descended into dark murky colors and white shirts. How abysmally boring.
It wasn't until the 1960's that color had begun to creep back into men's clothes, and Sands was quick to take advantage of that. It was also when he had come up with the idea to have several males every ten years or so, be born with his name. It wasn't hard for someone with the persuasive powers of a vampire to induce pregnant women into naming their sons Sheldon Jeffrey Sands. His little joke on the world.
He kept tabs on the boys, dismissing those who didn't do well in school, and following those who excelled. Their appearance didn't matter much. He knew how to disguise himself.
This use of other people's lives was how Sheldon had gotten into the C.I.A. Despite their exhaustive research into the background of Sheldon Jeffrey Sands, they'd only discovered the background of the young man he had disposed of. Luckily the fellow had his coloring and he didn't have to die his hair (again). He simply assumed the man's identity after disposing of the body in a way that insured it would never be found.
Of course, now that the C.I.A. incarnation of himself had been blinded, he could no longer go strolling into Langely and put back on the guise of spy. He'd love that particular role. It had brought him adventure, danger. Of course, the unfortunately business with his eyes. But like all good vampires, he'd regenerated. It had taken 9 months of blindness, but eventually his eyes had grown back, his sight returned, and he got out of the spy business. Not only that, but he had a tidy pension from the government for his disability. All ended well, he thought as he perused his closet.
Despite the distance between them, he could still hear Victoria. So she wanted to go to the Met, he thought. That sounded civilized.
Blue. He would wear blue. Today he felt like a little jewelry too - to show the bitches at the boutique he had money - and blue. So much for originality, he thought, tugging on his blue jeans. He slipped into socks and remembered that the boots he'd worn last night were still somewhere downstairs. He donned a denim shirt and a long thick gold chain. Dangling from it were charms he'd picked up in his travels. He fingered one from Tahiti, another from Hamburg. Each a memento of a person or experience. He'd tried having tattoos for a while, but they all disappeared in about nine months. There was one he'd had repeatedly died into his skin. He glanced down at his left hand. It would need to be redone in another month or so.
Going downstairs, he located his boots on the floor by the painting Victoria had admired, put them on and searched for his coat. His wallet was in the coat. He always carried five one-hundred dollar bills and two credit cards. It was enough to get him by in a scrape. He also had several fake passports hidden in various locations both within his apartment, and other safe places without. He would not be trapped. Not again.
Sands was about to go out, when his gaze passed over the Honeywell home meteorology console hanging by the door. He'd had it installed to remind him that he could not go out without looking the part of a human. Humans paid attention to the weather. It was forty degrees outside. A jacket would be needed.
He reached into the hall closet and pulled out a suede and shirring lamb's wool jacket. Slipping it on, he checked the pockets. Gloves were within the left one. Fine. But he didn't need gloves just yet.
He grabbed the door key from its hook, and went out to the elevator.
A few moments later, he was downstairs. Wind lashed at him, stronger than last night's. The sky gray, threatened rain or worse. He took a deep breath. There was at least one other vampire nearby, other than Victoria. He looked around. He could tell the direction of the other vampire was across the street in the park, but he couldn't see who it might be.
Shirking it off, he headed to his right down the long city block, turning on Park Avenue and heading toward the boutique he'd passed by so often, but never entered. People walked by swiftly today, their hands stuffed in their pockets, mufflers around their necks. He tried to remember to look cold.
The boutique, Cher-E-O's, catered to the wealthy. It's spacious layout reminded him of a scene from "Pretty Woman." He walked in and looked around for something that would strike him as being good for Victoria. He didn't often go shopping for women's clothes. The last time had to be in the 50's. He felt like a kid in a candy shop because he could decide how Victoria's lovely body was dressed, then later tonight, he could undress her. That thought brought a smile to his mouth.
He could hear the sound of approaching footsteps. Putting a dazed expression on his face, Sands raised his eyes up to look at the second floor.
"May I help you find something?" the sales clerk asked.
Acting surprised, Sands turned to look at her. She was thin with a small pierced bead in her left nostril. She looked like a poster child for starving third world nations, despite her blond hair and pale skin. Model- envy, he thought meeting her eyes.
"Thank you. I am buying something for my girlfriend." He offered a dazzling smile and a little shrug.
"What did you have in mind?" she spoke more slowly, her eyes studying every detail of his face.
He thought. Met? Or something more interesting? "Leather pants. A top that feels nice." He put on the stupid-male routine.
"What size does she wear?" Now her speech was breathier.
"Well." He held up his hands. "She's this tall. And curved like this." He demonstrated. "Mabye an 8?"
The sales clerk's eyes were glued to his mouth now. "All right. You stay right here and I'll bring the clothes to you." She reached out quickly and touched the sleeve of his jacket. "Oh, you must be warm. Here let me take that for you."
She moved around behind him and helped him shrug out of his jacket. He cast her a grateful smile. She returned his smile with a more seductive one of her own, before turning to hang his coat over the back of a chair. She patted the chair. "Sit."
"No thank you," he said. He watched her walk off toward the leather section.
"Is Casees helping you?" another sales clerk asked. This one was black, voluptuous and more mature than the skinny one.
"Yes, I guess she is." He continued his shy smile routine.
By the time Casees came back with some clothes for him to choose from two more sales clerks had come to chat with him.
"She's closer to Grace in size," Sands told Casees.
"Eight," Grace mouthed.
"Eight, you guessed correctly," Casees grinned. She held up black leather hip hugging pants.
"Those are exactly what I had in mind." He raised a brow, imagining Victoria in them.
"Oh, this top would look wonderful with them." Melissa held up a black knit top of clingy micro-fiber. "And it feels so soft."
"I'll take them," Sands said.
"Cash or charge?" Melissa asked, bringing her face closer to his than was necessary.
"Cash."
Twenty minutes later, Sands let himself into the apartment, a white bag with "Cher-E-O's" in one hand. He looked out toward the wall-high windows. It had just started to rain. He wondered if Victoria liked to dance. "Victoria, I've been shopping. What to see what I've bought you?" he said in a sing song playful tone.