Dilettante;
I wore a turquoise blue mini-dress, black 3" shouch boots, back-seamed stockings, black tailored leather blazer, full makeup and nails. My S&W Bodyguard was in my purse, my HK USP Compact was in a shoulder holster, and I had a Cold Steel Recon Tanto on my inside thigh above the hemline.
"A lady as pretty as you should be carrying a gun - have you ever thought about it?"
"I'm just here to buy that Pentagon, a gift for my partner. Can I see it, please?"
"Sure; here! I bet you could shoot this little .38 just fine; you want to look at it, too?"
"No, thank you (lays CCW permit on counter, followed by Bodyguard), I love my .357. . ."
Clerk starts, hands me the Pentagon, can't seem to look anywhere but either the snubby or my clevage.
"Um, you shouldn't carry a gun in your purse - what about it gets snatched?"
I remove my blazer. "Then I might just shoot him in the @ss."
More flustered. Still can't look me in the eye. "So, are you a cop or something?"
The Pentagon is lovely. I slip my blazer back on. "I'm gay. That falls into the 'or something' category."
The clerk manages to look me in the face - barely. Lipstick is too much of a distraction for him to make eye contact. Crew-cut, 30-something, tan, probably works out; but women must be from another planet. . .
Two other customers, one of whom I know and go shooting with are paying attention by this time.
"Ken - good to see you!"
"Wow! Trish, I barely recognized. . . you're going to meet Susan, right? Damn, but you clean up nice!"
"Down, boy! Yep, lunch at The Brown Palace - you think Susan will like this?"
"She's getting a knife for once? I thought you were the cutlery girl of the two!"
Chuckling, nodding. "I like getting personal - she's talked about one of these and today is the perfect excuse." Credit card is handed to the clerk, who's now the color of a ripe peach clear to his ears.
Ken glances at the clerk, grinning. "Calm down - she and Susan are two dykes you'd either love to meet in a dark alley, or they'd be the last people you'd see!" Ken looks me over and nods.
"So, where's your knife? You never go out without one."
"None of your business."
"Sign here, Ma'am." The clerk manages to look me in the eye as I hand him the receipt. "A .40 is a good caliber - that HK is a good gun." He hands me the boxed blade in a paper bag.
"Jesus, Bill! She shoots .45's! Get over it!"
I'm starting to get pissed, but stay cool. Bill, the clerk, has a High Power on his hip. I smile sweetly and head for the door, trying not to grind my teeth.
Ken gets the door for me. I look him in the eye and see he's grinning from ear-to-ear, but it fades when he sees the storm clouds behind my eyes.
"I know being straight is a lifestyle choice - just don't expect me to ever understand it."
He nods, munching his lip.
"I'll take care of it, Trish; he's new - good to see you again. Say 'Hi' to Susan for me."
I took a couple of deep breaths before I got behind the wheel.
Lunch was delightful, but I didn't mention anything about making the purchase. . .
Trisha