Free panties

I love getting stuff for free. I don't mean stealing stuff; I mean rightfully getting things without paying. I don't hesitate to use coupons if I have them or even pass off coupons for items I don't have if I think I can successfully sneak them by the cashier. When the check-out person bags an item she accidentally didn't zap, I keep my mouth shut. If I feel I've been provided inferior service, as has been the case with Charter, my shitty monopolistic internet provider, I am quick to try and argue successfully for a $75 credit. If our parents offer to take us out to eat, we have long given up asking to split the bill. Yesterday my wife sent me out to acquire a new addition to our list of freebies. She provided me with a coupon that entitled the bearer to a free panty from Victoria's Secret.

I'm not too crazy about Victoria's Secret, much less going in there for a free panty. I've always thought women looked best when they wear the least and my preference is bare skin. As for my own tastes in undergarmentry I usually go commando, so panties, free or otherwise aren't all that appealing to me. But if it's a free panty my wife wants, it's a free panty she gets.

I walked in and briefly fingered some of the merchandise as though I were going to make a purchase. Sure, the experienced sales lady can see through this charade, but it makes me feel better about asking for free underpants. When the striking blonde wanted to know if she could help me find anything, I didn't just tell her I was there for my free panty. I told her I had recently bought merchandise from another location and then received the coupon for free panties in the mail. I had hoped the sentiment I would convey was Oh how silly I feel asking for a handout of unmentionables when I just paid the equivalent of your weekly salary at another one of your store's locations in order to outfit my harem. I don't know if the she bought it, but she picked out my panty and called me sweety. What more can you ask of a salesgirl?

Even though I like getting stuff for free, there's this mild guilt feeling that sets in shortly after accepting. I call it the taker's remorse. To compensate for my taker's remorse brought on by a free low-rise bikini-cut cream colored panty, I continued to feign wanting to buy something else. On the way to the register (yes, they even have to ring up free undies) I eyed the various lip glosses. Colalicisious? Hmm, maybe. Melonberry Squash? Could be tasty. Bubblegum Bimbo? Nah, I'll just take my free draw's, thank you.

Doing my wife's bidding only took up fifteen minutes of my hour(ish)-long lunch, so I spent the rest of my time walking around the mall carrying a little pink bag the size of what I usually pack my lunch in. Lingerie boutiques generally don't have the manliest looking of bags and I contemplated ditching it and just putting the underwear in my pocket. The bag looked like one Elaine would want to keep for regifting purposes though so I just carried it through the mall wondering if the people I passed knew by the size of my parcel that all I got for my wife at Victoria's Secret was a free pair of panties. I felt like a cheapskate who was advertising his frugality to the other mall rats.

My other concern when walking around with a bag that clearly came from a woman's clothing store is that people wonder if I bought something for myself there. My sister used to manage such a place and she said that they occasionally would get a request over the phone from a man wanting to shop for himself. Her standard line was that if he'd like they'd invite him to come during the store's slow period where he could try things on uninhibited. She says he never did, probably because he just got off talking about it to a sales person over the phone. When I worked at Toys R Us we occasionally got a guy who called up asking if we'd change his diaper, but that's a story for another time.