Holly Lisle Sympathy for the Devil

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didn t actually need to sleep.
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He was alert, he was in good spirits, and he was confident that before the day
was out, he and the rest of his crew would hold the state of North Carolina
firmly by the testicles.
He waddled into the mall, and immediately earned the stares and giggles of
teenaged girls, and the shocked sidelong glances and poorly disguised smirks
of their mothers.
No matter, he told himself. The short, fat, balding puce-clad persona was only
the creation of a moment, and as a research vehicle, it would do. He bought a
newspaper from one of the newsstands, settled himself on a bench, and
pretended to read. Thus obscured, he was able to watch the people who passed
by him. He observed, and he learned.
Tall, square-jawed men in their late thirties, dressed in expensive suits,
drew the glances of well-dressed, upper-class women. Boys in baggy T-shirts
and ripped jeans and backwards-turned baseball caps attracted the admiring
stares of the silly little girls.
But only one man who passed him turned every female head. The man was
young perhaps twenty-five, certainly no more than twenty-eight. He was a
superb physical specimen, tallish, well-muscled but certainly not overly so,
with an attractive face. His dark hair was short and neatly styled; he wore
his white oxford shirt with the sleeves rolled up and tucked into neat,
new-looking blue jeans. He wore a pair of leather deck shoes without socks.
Agonostis thought that sort of appearance would suit him well enough, at least
until he d had a chance to check out Dayne Kuttner. If she turned out to be
eighty, he d come up with another plan. If she didn t turn out to be eighty,
he d gauge her response to him and, if necessary, try again as somebody else.
He found a store that sold men s casual clothing and waddled inside. A cute,
pert little sales clerk eyed him doubtfully and said, May I . . . help you .
. . sir? She paused. There s a men s large and tall just around the corner.
She smelled delicious. He thought it was a shame he couldn t hurt humans he
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imagined she would taste much better than imp. He looked up at her and said,
I m looking for something for my . . . son. He s a tall boy about six feet, I
suppose. Thin. Lots of muscles.
He watched one of her eyebrows raise, and from the tiniest of twitches at the
corner of her mouth, he realized she was considering that his son most likely
wasn t. Do you have any idea what size he wears?
His mother buys things for him most of the time.
Ah. She sighed. I don t know how I can help you if you don t know what his
sizes are.
I see. Agonostis walked back to the wall of shelves with those soft blue
jeans folded from floor to ceiling. He studied the rows of numbers, growing
increasingly more frustrated as he studied them. Finally he snapped, Just
what are these numbers supposed to mean
?
She walked back, the expression on her face pure disbelief. Sir, what size do
you . . . She stared at the hems of his pants, still a good two inches above
his shoe tops, and at his jacket with the sleeves too long by the same
proportions, and she shook her head, bemused. Never mind. The number on the
left is the waist size. The number on the right is the inseam size the length
from the top of the inside of your leg to the top of your shoe.
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So little numbers on the left and big numbers on the right are better than
the other way around.
She was having a hard time keeping a straight face. Most people choose them
by whether they fit or not, not by whether the numbers are better or worse.
That would explain a lot, he muttered. He found some pants with a smallish
waist number and a long inseam, and a white shirt, size Large that at least
was simple enough and went up to the counter to pay.
If you keep the tags, you can bring those back, the clerk said. In case
they don t fit.
They ll fit, he grumbled.
She was grinning as he walked away.
He stopped in a shoe store, and looked up at the clerk there also a woman,
also taller than him. What is an average shoe size for a man six feet tall?
he asked her.
Just in general? she asked.
Yes . . . just in general.
Are you doing a survey?
No, he snapped. I m buying a pair of shoes. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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