Customer Service

Another Saturday shopping, which means another day sitting in a chair, holding her big-ass purse and wondering how much of your money was going to go walking out of that dressing room. For the zillionth time, you wonder if having such a high-maintenance girlfriend is worth it. Sure, she looks great in all the clothes you buy, and your friends are all jealous; and she looks even better out of them, stripping them off slowly, as she comes to bed.....and, OH!, the things she does there...........

Um, what were you thinking about?

You sense someone flop into the chair next to you; another poor schmuck relegated to Sherpa duty. Hoping to find a kindred spirit, or at least the basketball score, you turn--and find yourself staring into the most beautiful pair of eyes you have ever seen.

The girl next to you is one of the most breathtaking creatures you have ever seen; a slim and petite body, wearing a white tank top that barely contains her obviously bra-less breasts over form fitting jeans that hug every curve of her shapely ass and thighs. She smiles broadly.

"Purse duty, hunh?" she asks, nodding towards the bag. "Me, too," she says patting the bag in her lap. "I don't get it, I can fuck her in the car on the way over here, but I can't watch her try on clothes?"

The unexpected frankness of her question leaves you stunned. You can just barely manage a nod when she sticks out her hand, "Name's Meredith. Whatsa matter? Never met an honest-to-God lesbian before?"

You take her hand carefully. "Um, no, I don't think so. But nowadays, you never know, right?"

She shakes your hand, giggling. "Nope. We're everywhere!" she growls. "So, yours gonna be in there long?"

You look back cautiously at the dressing room, knowing what would happen if she walked out now. High–maintenance AND jealous was not a great combination, and your girlfriend had them both in spades. "I think so; she took an awful lot of things in there. She usually takes her time."

"Her, too," she says, gesturing towards the other closed curtain. "She says it's all for me, but I think that's bullshit. She just likes playing dress-up every now and then."

"Yeah," you laugh, "Grown up Barbies, and ten times as expensive."

"Well, at least ours are anatomically correct--when ya buy them stuff, they know how to show their gratitude. Knowhatimean?" she nudges you with her elbow.

Obviously, your face somehow gives away just how long it has been since your girlfriend last "showed gratitude" because her smile fades quickly.

"No? Damn, man, that's cold!" She leans back in her chair. "That ain't right--somebody should do something about that."

"W-What do you mean," you stammer, as mental images flood uncontrolled into your head. You feel a stirring in your jeans, and subtly shift the purse in your lap to cover it.

"Damn, that long, hunh?" She sets her girlfriends purse on the floor beneath her chair, allowing her to turn her head and look into your crotch. The attention causes your cock to swell against the front of your pants. "Wow!" she whispers under her breath.

She leans back in her chair again and is quiet for a couple of minutes. You stare ahead at the dressing room curtains, trying to will the blood away from your crotch before your girlfriend comes out. You feel the swelling begin to subside when you feel something else in your lap. You look down and see Meredith's thin fingers sliding across the front of your pants, reaching under the purse, and running along the outline of your penis. Your member jumps and throbs under the attention.

"Still got it, I guess," she breathes, still looking straight ahead. "I've had boyfriends before; guess you could say I'm officially bisexual. Not my thing at the moment, but you seem like a nice guy in need of a little TLC."

She grabs your zipper and begins to slide it down—you squirm a little in your seat. "Sit still, dammit. You wanna call attention?"

You look around—salesclerks and customers are few in the boutique, but close enough to notice if you made a scene. Meredith slowly unfastens your belt and reaches inside your boxers.

"You got a nice one here," she says, hand wrapping around your growing shaft. "Your girl's an idiot if she's not jumping on that regularly."

With her thumb, she frees your cock from your shorts, and tucks the waistband below your balls. You shift the large purse to shield your lap from the other shop occupants. A drop of precum oozes out of the tip and Meredith's hand quickly rubs across it.

Using your own fluid as lube, her hand begins to work the length of your dick, alternating long, slow strokes with quick little circles around the head. You begin to breath a little heavy, as your cock grows to larger than it has been in some time. She continues the long, regular strokes, keeping a steady rhythm until she begins to feel the first twitches of your orgasm.

Intensifying her attention on the tip of your cock, she speeds up her strokes to bring you to climax. You quickly lift the bottom of your shirt out of the way, to avoid any unexplainable stains. Meredith cups the tip of your member with her hand as the semen erupts. The cum spurts out into the palm of her hand, some dripping onto your abdomen. You cum for what seems like minutes, your dick finally twitching down and resting inertly on your belly.

Meredith reaches into the purse at her feet with her other hand and produces a handkerchief. Wiping the jizz off her hand she smiles, "Now, dontcha you feel better? I'm gonna go to the Starbucks; let mine know if she comes out first." Before she turns to leave, she licks the side of one finger; "Hmmmm, better than I remember. You better put that away, now," she points at your now flaccid penis.

You scramble to fix your pants back and just finish when the curtain on the dressing room flings open.

"I can't decide," your girlfriend announces to no one in particular. "I guess these'll do." She drops the pile of clothes onto the seat next to you. "Take care of these, will ya, hon? I need a macchiato in the worst way." She snatches the purse off your lap and spins for the exit.

You check yourself once more before getting up and carrying the stack of clothes to the register.

"Excuse me, miss," you say to the clerk in the blue blazer behind the counter. She turns and you find yourself staring into the face of Meredith. You glance down at the blazer and the nametag which reads "Meredith – Assistant Manager".

"Did you find everything you were looking for today, sir?" she asks, bagging the items carefully.

"More, I suppose," you answer.

"Fantastic. We pride ourselves here on our customer service; and we never forget who our true customers are," she says with a smile and a wink. "Y'all come back now!"

Taking the bag you're about to say something else, when behind you you hear.......

EEEEEEWWWWWWW!!!!!!! What the fuck is this on my purse?!?!?!!?