Fresh from my success at telling the strapping young man to "grease his hole up real good," I instigated yet another ripped-from-the-pages-of-a-porn-script moment at Ho(t)me(n) Depot.
There I was, fronting and facing and such, and this... this... Man came sauntering up to me (bearded, built, booted, beer gut... you get the picture; I don't even need to go into detail, right?).
I offered my conventional greeting: "Hi! Can I give you a hand with something?" (I like that better than the standard, "Can I help you?" Being keenly aware of power dyanmics (ahem.), needing "help" implies subordination, and most people don't want that. But needing "a hand" means that you're in control. Just about none of my customers decline my offer of "a hand," but the automatic response to an offer of "help" is, of course, "No. I'm fine." Anyway...)
So the Man started off to say, "Yeah, I need..." And then he struggled to find the right words.
I jumped in. My voice got low and growly, I looked him dead in the eye, and said, "Tell me what you need."
His reaction was perfect. He froze. There might have been an intake of breath. His eyes looked searchingly into mine.
And I quickly followed with, "...and I'll see what I can do!", delivered in my sunniest and most innocent and pluckiest voice.
He went on to describe a plumbing problem he was having, and I lead him off to the fittings aisle and set him up with some PVC and a SharkBite connector, explaining to him what he would have to do.
So I wonder if after dinner, after the news, if he climbed into bed, got all comfy underneath the covers, and then asked himself, "What do I need?" And maybe noticed that his cock was rock hard.