America's No. 1 financial conglomerate

Chapter 98 Sales Boom

Manhattan, New York.

As Playboy's flagship store in the United States, a long, winding queue had already formed outside the three-story glass curtain wall. The line stretched like a restless python from the store entrance to a street corner a block away, squeezing the originally spacious sidewalk into a narrow gap.

Most of the people in line were men, dressed in suits or casual jackets, but their eagerness was hard to hide. These men would occasionally tiptoe to look at the shop entrance, shoving each other and exchanging glances, their chatter bubbling like boiling water.

It was bustling and lively.

"Hey buddy, did you see Gisele Bündchen's burgundy floral lingerie?" a bearded nerdy guy yelled, gesturing wildly with his thick fingers.

"The lace trim wraps around her waist like flower petals. If Elsa wore it and stood at her bedroom door, I swear my blood vessels would burst."

The man next to him pushed up his gold-rimmed glasses, making him look even more like someone from Manhattan's financial district, and his Adam's apple bobbed noticeably as he took the lead in the conversation.

"I prefer that black stocking camisole; the crisscrossing straps forming a diamond-shaped cutout at the back make you want to pull it open..."

'

At this moment, American men, who were never supposed to be British gentlemen, completely shed their civilized facades and transformed into hungry, lustful wolves with gleaming green eyes on the streets.

There is no subtlety, only the exploration and pursuit of desire.

At exactly nine o'clock, the moment the clerk opened the glass door, the crowd surged in like a beehive burst open, resembling the middle-aged women collecting eggs.

The central air conditioning in the store was trying its best to deliver cold air, but it couldn't suppress the sudden rise in body temperature.

The aisles between the shelves were about two meters wide, but at this moment they were crammed together like sardine cans, with various colored leather shoes making a screeching sound as they rubbed against the floor.

The mannequins originally intended to showcase the new products were jostled and pushed about, with one mannequin wearing bunny ears even having its sample ripped off by a customer, revealing its bare plastic torso.

Careful selection is no longer suitable for this shopping scenario; everyone's purpose is very clear.

The long queues stretched from the counter all the way to the lingerie section, with customers carrying shopping baskets filled with various styles of lingerie.

Burgundy floral print, black lace trim, see-through style with a zipper in the middle... Some people simply take a set of the same style in different colors, as if the items on the shelf are not underwear, but stocks that are about to appreciate in value.

The shop assistants, dressed in navy blue uniforms, moved through the crowd like fish, asking about sizes and packing orders without any sales pitches.

"Do you still have 38D burgundy floral print?" a bald man shouted, holding up a shopping basket, his voice drowning out the background music in the store.

The shop assistant responsible for restocking had his shirt soaked with sweat on the back. He carried a stack of packaged goods from the warehouse, and as soon as he turned around, several hands grabbed him at the same time.

"Give me three items."

"I want five."

Store manager Tara Oliveira stood in front of the glass window of her second-floor office, her brows furrowed as she looked down at the bustling scene below.

His gaze swept over the customers, their faces flushed from the frantic buying, and his fingertips unconsciously tapped on the window frame.

"This is insane," she muttered as she returned to her desk and reached for the phone.

The call was answered almost immediately after the first ring. New York State General Manager Vivaldi's voice was hoarse from just waking up: "Tara? What's up so early?"

"Mr. Vivaldi, I am Tara Oliveira, and my shop needs to restock."

"Transferring stock?" The person on the other end of the phone was clearly taken aback, thinking they were hallucinating, before asking, "You mean the new lingerie? I remember your store has over two thousand pieces in stock of various styles, don't you?"

"Yes, but now..." Tara looked out the window and saw a man in a suit stuffing a large stack of underwear into a shopping basket.

"You can't imagine the madness of shoppers. Almost every shopper buys the entire line. I've never seen anything like it."

Vivaldi instantly pictured customers waiting to pay at the checkout counter, each holding a huge stack of lingerie. Which style was the sexiest and most alluring? Why waste time agonizing over what? Of course, he'd just buy them all and change into a different one every day.

A gasp came from the other end of the phone. "I'll have the warehouse send over a batch of goods this afternoon. Three thousand pieces of each style, is that enough?"

'

"Twenty thousand pieces," Tara said decisively.

"Twenty thousand?" Vivaldi's voice was like a cat being stepped on. "Twenty thousand pieces of each style? Do you know how many boxes that means? Your warehouses simply can't hold them all!"

'

Tara Oliveira gave a wry smile. "In fact, if you can't deliver the goods before noon, my store may very well face the predicament of having nothing to sell this afternoon."

There was silence on the phone; Vivaldi was so surprised he didn't know what to say.

After telling the other party that he would arrange it as soon as possible, Vivaldi hung up the phone.

As the general manager of Playboy's sales department in New York State, he had already watched last night's program through internal channels.

It must be admitted that the new boss, Ernst, is a genius; this show alone has filled him with a strong desire to buy.

Even so, Vivaldi never imagined that the show would lead to such a crazy increase in sales.

Just as he was racking his brains trying to figure it out, the phone on the table rang again. It was another order for goods; the store was running low on inventory again.

For the next two hours, Vivaldi became a switchboard operator, constantly receiving calls from stores urging them to expedite deliveries, and repeatedly notifying logistics to ship the goods as soon as possible.

If Playboy's new lingerie became a trendsetter in America, then the videotapes of "Playboy Spy" became a form of hard currency among men.

In the bar, a group of men were no longer discussing women and sports, but rather supermodels and lingerie.

"Matt, the drinks are on me tonight."

The bartender, with his narrow eyes, looked at the bald, obese man in front of him, not at all surprised that someone had suddenly offered him a drink.

This was already the umpteenth man to offer him drinks tonight, and the bartender's eyes were filled with envy.

"I heard you have a Playboy Spy tape? It's not that I don't believe you, I just want to borrow it to broaden my horizons and see what it's all about."

Matt smiled. "Santes, I'm afraid you're too late. At least ten people have already asked me to borrow videotapes today."

"Oh, shit," Santes regretted not coming earlier today.

There are ten people, and by the time it's his turn, who knows when it will be.

With a quick glance around, Santes' eyes lit up. "I have a suggestion."

Matt shrugged, indicating he'd like to hear more.

"How about we invite everyone to my house for a party? You bring the videotape, and I'll invite a few girls too, and we'll enjoy it together."

"Maybe we could go to a Playboy store and buy some lingerie, then have the girls wear it and show it to us."

The bartender standing nearby swallowed hard upon hearing the suggestion, and even in the dim light of the bar, he could see Matt's face instantly turn red.

Then he saw many men and women leaving the bar in groups, and the once bustling lobby suddenly became much quieter.

When the manager came out of the restroom and saw the situation inside the store, he even shook his head vigorously, thinking he was seeing things.

There were clearly thirty or forty people in the lobby before I went into the restroom, and then a splash of urine washed away more than twenty of them? Does my urine smell that strong?