Shopgirl Confessions

6 min read

The chime on the door rang and I looked up from the pile of donated furs I was sorting. Summer is a quiet time for the shop and business is slow. No one had been in for over an hour when the couple came in. They were immediately entranced by the music’s blue notes and the vintage vibe. A lot of folks just stop by to listen and sway back to another time. I called out a friendly welcome and let them know I was there if they needed me. I put my hands into the fur, feeling for imperfections, but my eyes stayed on them.

I barely focused on the gentleman at first, other than his tan skin, lean and cut, veined arms; but that was only because of her. Her… a porcelain goddess, her skin a fine powder, her style of dress from another time, another place. The lines were all buttoned-up and Victorian, but the fabrics touched her skin and broke all the rules. The way she moved and carried herself, she looked like she’d stepped from a distant silent screen right onto a modern New York runway. She was kind of polished-post-punk-prude, if there is such a thing. She sent my synapses a-stutter.

I watched her move through the store, sifting through the last of the summer dresses. The way she felt the fabrics and inspected the seams, her hands expertly searching for quality. I was memorizing her cheekbones, the angle of her jaw, the way her neck stretched over the top of the high-collared blouse of a thousand buttons. Her hair was up in a soft wave, tendrils falling and gesturing towards the rise of her bosom, where the inset sheer lace let shadows in to play hide and seek. Her skirt went straight to the floor, but a slit climbing high revealed enough to signal she wasn’t completely lost in time. Flashes of her long and lovely thigh slipped out of the fabric with every step, all the way up to her hip. I couldn’t detect a single hint of lingerie. I honestly couldn’t wait to fantasize about her later. Imagine her a travelling dancer with her trainer or an intellect from a foreign university with a colleague or mentor… I would have him watch me undress her… Let down all those waves, one hairpin at a time. I imagined kissing the blue-white skin under each button. Christ, how many buttons did that shirt have, anyway? So sexy. So many kisses. Oh, to have the pleasure of that undoing.

I was surprised by how taken I had become, so quickly, by another woman. I had thought of women always, in fantasy, but usually someone vague, faces and parts of friends and strangers morphing. Never had I been overwhelmed like this.

I was beginning to pulse.

The man came near me, smiling, and I imagined he knew.

I felt a wave of pleasure rush through me as I had that thought and combined it with the first glimpse of her breast, him standing close, as I undressed her. He had one hand on her ass and one on mine, his hard-on rising up between us. My mind was cupping her breast and pulling her closer to my mouth, my tongue flicking out, my teeth biting through the open lace. I felt his cock come between us, freed from the straining fabric, a welcome guest.

I let out an accidental cry.

I felt caught up in my desires and glanced up, blushing and slightly glazed, almost wishing to be read.

Could he feel us take him in our hands, together?

He smiled again and this time lingered a little longer.

I let myself believe he could read my thoughts. I opened my mind to everything I’d ever learned about visualization, and really concentrated.

I let him reach under my skirt and grab my ass.

I felt another heavy wave of lust wash over me and my nipples hardened, wanting attention.

He watched them peak under my shirt, shamelessly.

I grew flushed as he sauntered away, still watching.

I shifted on my feet, needing to sway and squirm.

They were standing near the back of the store, his hand on her waist. They both looked over their shoulders at me. I was still mindfully feeling his fingers sliding under my panties, probing and exploring.

I felt my juices slip past my lips and wet the thin crotch of my panties. I wanted so badly to reach down and rub the silk patch into the damp crevice where I was feeling his hand and their glance. I imagined him pulling them taut and dragging them hard up my ass, letting the fabric rub and ride, nice and rough, tight on my clit, rubbing and dragging on my pussy and asshole.

I couldn’t take my eyes off them. They moved like one through the store. I liked how he was choosing things off of the rack, dressing her.

I was bouncing my hips off the counter and rocking.

They were near the dressing room so I hollered back, “If there is anything you want to try on, the dressing room is right there. The mirrors are fabulous!” My breath caught in my voice a little and I rolled my eyes at myself.

They peeked through the curtain and I watched the thrill in their body language. Everyone loves our dressing room once they see those mirrors. They’re giant, gilt-framed monstrosities that belong in a large estate. We have two and each one takes up an entire wall, floor to ceiling. They beg to be the backdrop in a porn shoot.

I was hoping they would go in together.

I would love to be a fly on the wall and watch him undress and dress her… buttons and lace… ribbons and a bow… I wanted to stand outside the curtain and imagine.

I wanted to overhear their whispers.

I ran my hands, muttering through the mink and snickered.

“…if only these people knew what I was thinking….”

I looked back again and they were caught in a lover’s moment. Whispers, playful touches… I watched and grabbed the chance to slide my hand under my skirt and relieve some of my wanting ache… touch… put my fingers where I just felt his before a prelude to her kiss. I was thinking about mind-fucking this unaware couple, not to mention that any Joe at a red light could see what I was doing, if they just happened to look. I turned toward the front window, half hoping to be caught by a young college boy coming home on an idling bus.

The woman suddenly left his side and turned to approach the counter. I was positive she caught me in my lusty act. No mistaking it. I withdrew my hand and wiped my finger quickly on my skirt and watched her gaze follow my movement. Her head tilted down, but I know I caught in her eyes a glint, and a lift in her breath.

She came close to the counter without touching, her posture perfect, and looked down at the furs.

“May I?”

She looked up and lifted her hand, letting it hover over the heat and scent of sex rising from mine. I wondered if she could detect it. I half hoped she did.

“Please. Please do.”

She let her hand plunge into the fur, surprising me by running her fingers over mine, lingering on the wet, remaining. She dragged it and let it follow her finger, like a single loosed strand of a web.

I didn’t say anything, but looked right in her eyes, surprising myself, so bold.

The corners of her mouth lifted slowly and her teeth bit her lip.

I just watched her. Her hands.

Her hands, strong, artistic hands. I wanted to take them in mine but dared not move… her fingers, spreading… groping, exploring the soft, dense fur.

My breath was growing ridiculously short. I was growing wildly passionate, out of control. If I had a cock it would be bouncing and raging, and as a woman, I didn’t know how much longer I could hide my want. I was on the edge.

“Um… You can come feel, too…”

My voice came out husky, a little broken, throaty.

Her man was standing by the front door again. I didn’t even see him move across the store.

“I have a better idea. I feel the energy in the room. It really is quite strong, the attraction… it’s an almost visual heat.”

He moved closer, but a touch, just for stance and effect. He squared his body toward me. I watched him rise clearly through the fabric of his trousers.

“Oh yes… I can feel it.” He quickly brushed his hand across his cock and my pussy throbbed and pleaded for attention. “I’d rather watch the two of you on top of those furs. Yes. That… that I would like very much.”

A thick, silent hesitancy filled the air.

Things were surreal and dreamlike.

He crossed his arms across his chest, waiting, and all I could see were the veins.

The woman touched my drying sticky finger.

He let one hand fall down his firm, flat belly and intently feather stroked his erection, offering me the full outline.

I surprised myself with a low and guttural command.

“Lock the door.”

He did and came closer, making the point in our triangle.

Still teasing himself, he ran a finger across her cheek and leered at me, flaunting and taunting… all of us.

She leaned in toward me earnestly, letting her breasts graze the backs of my hands, now clutching at the mink.

“So would you like to play with us, sweet shopkeep?”

He didn’t wait for me to answer her question and came between us, picking up the pile of furs, disappearing into the back.

Trembling with fresh born confidence and lust for new adventure, I came around closer, removing the counter that kept us apart.

“Yes. Yes, I would.”

I grabbed her by the waist, letting one hand rise up to where my mind had already been.

I cupped her breast waiting under the ivory lace and felt her breath heave in my hand. My thumb played her nipple, toying, just as I’d imagined. My other hand slowly traced a line up her long row of shiny, pearled buttons.

I wanted to rip the fabric, but I traced, I traced and circled every other one, all the way up to her lips and there, barely touched, lingered… stared.

I slid my other hand around the back of her neck, drawing her face to mine, pressing my lips and parting hers.

I drew her by the small of her back, close, slightly lifting her into me, taking a hungrier hold of her breast, letting my tongue plunge past her full, wet lips. Her leg slipped out and climbed up and around me.

There was no mistaking a perfect connection.

I couldn’t wait and was elated I didn’t have to.

I barely remember, but somehow

we reached the back of the store

and the dressing room curtains

billowed and swayed behind us.

A bed of fur,

and a ready and willing

participating audience

lie waving…

and waiting.

-to be continued, perhaps!

Leave a Reply