Paradise at the Mall
It’s hard to say what first attracted me to him. Was it his liquid chocolate eyes or his flawless café au lait completion? Maybe it was the soothing quality of his deep baritone or his charming accent that drew me in. But drawn I was, like a middle-aged fish on a very seductive hook.
Sadly, I knew I’d been played, but it didn’t matter. All that mattered was the thirty-year-old hunk of burning love that was rhythmically rubbing the palm of my hand while murmuring sweet nothings into my ear.
Let me clarify; I am a married mother of three. This encounter was not an illicit rendezvous with a secret lover. He was simply a stranger selling Dead Sea scrub at the mall. But what a sales pitch!
I’d first spotted him in front of his kiosk, dressed in an official-looking lab coat. His eyes twinkled as they met mine, and in a voice that dripped honey, he told me his name was Niko and asked if he might “borrow my hand.” I was mesmerized, and before you could say, scam artist, I’d flung my shopping bags to the ground like so much flotsam and stepped into his lair — or kiosk. Same thing.
Niko drew me close, massaging my hand with what he called his “magic oils.” My brain screamed con man! But other parts of me weren’t listening; other parts of me were enjoying the rub-down by a handsome man in the middle of the mall on a Tuesday morning.
Niko proceeded to buff my nails and then releasing my hand with a flourish, announced that my nails were “magnificent!” adding that he’d “never seen results like mine before.” I blushed like a schoolgirl and told him, “I get that a lot.”
Niko continued his sales-pitch, explaining that his “magic buffer” was made from the finest silk as he brushed it lightly over the inside of my wrist. It could have been raw meat for all I cared. I bit down hard on my cheek and tried not to pass out.
“Where did they find you?” I asked, trying not to drool. Niko smiled and began rubbing his magic oil in slow circles over my palms until my eyes crossed.
After all of the rubbing and buffing, I felt I owed Niko something. Regaining my composure, I asked, “How much for the whole package?” It turns out a rub-down from Niko didn’t come cheap.
When I balked at the price, he quickly offered me a deal. Niko wasn’t about to let me slip away after all we’d been through. But even with a discount, I couldn’t justify the purchase. Christmas was coming, and I had insanely expensive video games and Elmo plushies to buy.
I was still hesitating when Niko took my hand and offered me every woman’s dream; wholesale! “I will give you this, but you must promise me something,” Niko purred. I hung on every syllable, ready to promise Niko my unborn grandchildren. “This must be our little secret,” he whispered.
Screw Elmo, I thought thrusting an oily hand into my purse in search of a credit card.
Niko smiled like the Cheshire Cat and totaled my bill. Quickly I gathered my purchases and staggered down the mall feeling greasy, buffed, and more than a little duped.
Yes, I’d been scammed, but I’d loved every minute of it! How many women find themselves embroiled in an intimate moment with a handsome, mysterious stranger willing to rub them with exotic oils, all while standing at a kiosk in front of the Gap?
A lot!
Later that morning, I passed Niko’s kiosk and noticed he was already busy rubbing and buffing another customer. She’d slumped against Niko, slack-jawed and hood-eyed, her shopping bags in a crumpled heap under her heels. I recognized the look. I knew it wouldn’t be long before she was drooling and stuffing twenties into Niko’s belt.
I turned and hurried up the mall before Niko could spot me. I had to accept that our brief encounter was now fait accompli. Niko had moved on and somehow I would too.
I pushed through the mall doors into the parking lot, the heady scent of Niko’s “magic oils” surrounding me like a lover’s embrace. We would always have the mall. And for a brief moment, in the middle of suburbia at a mid-mall kiosk, that was all the paradise I could want.
