The Therapist's Journey Ch. 11

For lingerie, I went to Agent Provocateur. There were two women working there. One was gorgeous; a tall light complexioned blonde with a svelte build who could have modeled the stuff in the store. I put her in her early twenties. Her companion was several inches shorter. She kept her brown hair in a short bob, the hair curled forward. She was small breasted and although she packed some extra weight in her ass and thighs, she was far from fat. She was in her mid-thirties and I assumed in charge.

The blonde turned to me. "My name is Gretchen. Can I help you?"

I was a bit nervous. I'd never bought myself sexy lingerie before; it had all been given me as gifts. The blonde, with her friend mostly listening, asked me a series of questions to determine what would work best. Her infectious manner got most of the story out of me: I had entered into and lost an impulsive bet with an attractive younger man. Now I had to go on a date with him wearing lingerie and I might, just might, want to knock his socks off. I tried to leave them with the impression that he was a younger man I supervised at whatever company employed me.

The blonde turned to her friend. "What do you think Paulette?"

Paulette flashed a warm smile. There was something very likable about her. She openly studied my body and then said, "Not that you need it, but have you ever tired a corset?"

"No."

Gretchen was immediately enthusiastic. "You'd looked great. Something black to contrast with your skin and hair. How much do you want to blow his socks off."

I had been thinking about something a little less risque, but the thought of me in a corset was intriguing. It might, at least, temporarily, shut the young man up. I didn't need to answer the question. My positive reaction was evident in my face.

"Let's try the Damson and Mercy," Paulette said. After confirming she had correctly guessed my size, she directed me to the dressing room and went to fetch the goods. She suggested I try the Damson on first, it was more classic, less frilly. I carried it to the dressing room but was having trouble getting it to fit right; I had never tried on a corset before. I called to Paulette for help.

She entered the room, looking at me without embarrassment, "Having trouble? A lot of people do. They take some getting used to."

Paulette had me turn around and ran her hands ran along the side of my body, straightening the lines and seams. She then redid some of the buttons on the front and, placing her hands over my breasts, moved them slightly in the cups. Although I was briefly uneasy over the familiar way she touched me, her strong sensitive hands quickly won me over. When her hands covered my breasts I even felt a small, but definite, tingle between my legs. After she tightened the laces in the back, she surveyed her work.

"Absolutely magnificent!"

She slipped some stiletto heels on my feet and, calling for Gretchen to take a look, had me stand on a small podium. I turned around several times.

Gretchen stared at me in unabashed admiration and then looked at Paulette, "My god, she's beautiful."

I had mostly been checking myself out in the mirror, but the intensity of Gretchen's voice caught my attention. She was looking right at me, eyes smoky and slightly dilated. She sucked on her lower lip and then ran her tongue along her lips, moistening them. I wasn't sure, but it seemed like she blushed.

"Well, you've certainly got Gretchen's approval," Paulette said. "Gretch, why don't you help her with the Mercy corset. I'll watch the store."

Paulette's voice snapped Gretchen back to reality. "Of course," and then to me, "I'm not sure if we need to go any further, I mean you look great. But I would like to see you in the Mercy Corset."

I looked at myself in the mirror. I also wondered if I needed to go any further, I looked great. But I was enjoying myself. I liked these women's hands on me; I liked playing model for them; I liked their eyes on me.

I answered Gretchen, surprised by the coquettish tone of my voice. "If it's no trouble, I'd like to show you."

Gretchen handed me the Mercy corset. It was lacier and a bit more sheer than the Damson.

While I changed in the dressing room, I kept the curtain partly open. It allowed an easier conversation with Gretchen and if it afforded her an occasional peek at my form, well, I could live with that. Although I had more success with this one than the first, I still couldn't get it quite right. I called for Gretchen to help.

As Gretchen fitted the garment to me I contrasted her touch with Paulette's: not as strong or confident, a little gentler. Paulette was sure she knew how to touch a woman. Gretchen was not. She needed reassurance.

"You have very soft hands, Gretchen. They feel good on me."

She blushed openly this time. "I'm glad. Thank you."

I could hear Paulette in the store, talking to some customers.

Placing my hand on her forearm, I said, "Gretchen, while we wait for Paulette, would you help me put on some stockings and garters. I'd like to see the full effect."

Gretchen, unconsciously, arched her back. Her breathing had definitely slowed. She picked out some stockings, panties, and garters. I put on the panties and garters in front of her and then sat down and held out my leg as she slipped the stockings up my legs. My hands were trembling. So were hers. We finished with another pair of stiletto heels.

I ran my hands down my body and then cupped my breasts. Gretchen was staring at me. "How do I look. I feel so sexy."

"You're beautiful," she replied. There was no guile in her voice.

"Run your hand down my side, let me know how the fabric feels."

Gretchen did do. Goosebumps formed on my skin. "Your young man will be pleased," she said

Just then I was startled by a mechanical noise. A metal gate was descending over the store's entrance. I glanced at the clock on the wall. It was 8:00, closing time at the mall.

Paulette bustled in seconds latter, apologies pouring from her lips, and then she stopped dead in her tracks.

"Good god, are you fine!"

She motioned me up to the platform. I posed for both women. Paulette stepped on the platform and circled me. She ran her hands down the side of my body, as if evaluating the material. Her knowing hands occasionally paused, straightening lines that didn't seem crooked and eliminating rumples I couldn't see. As Paulette's touches became more openly sensual, the gentle smoldering between my legs intensified.

It was then that I noticed Gretchen in one of the mirrors. She was staring at me, making no attempt to hide her interest, a look of sheer concupiscence on her face. Her look was almost distracted, like she'd forgotten where she was. When Paulette straightened the cups holding my breasts, Gretchen's hands drifted upwards, the movement half-conscious. She cupped and squeezed her breasts. She dragged her thumbs hard across her nipples, whose outline was clearly visible through her clothes. Her body shuddered; she let our a sharp gasp of desire.

I didn't make eye contact with Gretchen, maintaining the illusion that she was unseen. Instead I kept her in my peripheral vision or viewed her in the room's many mirrors. I was captivated by her reaction; naked desire was burning in her eyes.

Paulette stepped back. "Eve, check out your breasts, make sure they're comfortable."

There was no discomfort, no hint of discomfort. Nonetheless, I did not hesitate. I held my left breast, imitating Gretchen's movement, cupped it in my hand, and flicked it with my thumb. Gretchen ran her tongue across her full lips. I did the same. I gave my right breast the same treatment, this time letting out a soft, barely audible, moan of delight.

I adopted a guilty secretive look, glanced around, and then turned my back to the ladies. I let my hand drift to my panties and ran a finger across the mouth of my vagina and up my wet labia. Although my back was turned, what I was doing was clearly evident in the mirrors and my sharp moan plainly proclaimed how much I enjoyed it. After working my labia a few more times I crooked my finger and inserted it into my vagina, finding the g-spot. My body started, as if on its own volition, a slow languorous sway. I made no effort to suppress a series of sensual moans.

I watched my admirers in a mirror. Paulette stood behind Gretchen, cupping and kneading her friend's breasts. Gretchen, like me, had buried her hand in her crotch, unhurriedly working her sex. Again, acting as if I was the only one in the room, I reached behind me, pulled aside my thong, and fingered my asshole. I inserted my index finger up to the first digit and that felt so good I pushed it the rest of the way in.

Again I looked in the mirror. Paulette had dropped to her knees, undid Gretchen's skirt, and was avidly licking the cleft of her ass. Paulette slid two fingers into Gretchen's vagina and then inserted them, coated with Gretchen's cunt juice, into the girl's ass. Gretchen gave an involuntarily squeal of delight.

I slowly turned around, my body swaying in time with my fingers, and faced my two observers. I had never thought of myself as an exhibitionist, but watching Gretchen's reaction to my performance was intensely exciting. I pulled aside my thong, exposed my cunt, and pushed three fingers inside while running my thumb in hard circles around my clitoris.

My exposed pussy pushed Gretchen to the next level. She jammed three fingers into her cunt and planted the heel of her hand on her clit, pivoting her body against them.

Paulette had stood back up, one hand playing with Gretchen's asshole, the other with her breasts. She talked to her friend in a stage whisper, loud enough for all to hear. "Isn't she hot? Look how her cunt is burning up. What a horny girl she is. I bet she's thinking about when you had your hands on her, helping her get ready."

Gretchen let out a low guttural, "Unnh..."

I groaned in response, the tone and passion of my utterance echoing hers. From there we moved in lockstep, Gretchen's fervent whimperings being quickly matched by my febrile responses. The pretense that we were alone dissolved, we were staring into each other's eyes, cunts, tits. Gretchen's face was flush, her skin covered with a thin sheen of perspiration, and her movements increasingly jerky. She was on the edge of an orgasm and I knew when she exploded, I would also.

Paulette then took over. She half-pushed, half-lowered, her friend to the floor and grabbed Gretchen's hands, forcibly pulling them from her cunt. Gretchen groaned in protest and tried to jam them back into her pussy, but she was no match for Paulette's determination. Gretchen's face was frantic with need. That's when Paulette buried her face in Gretchen's cunt.

Gretchen jerked, trying to free herself, but was helpless against her friend's strength. She tried protesting in a voice sodden with fear and lust, "No, stop, I'm not like that," but Paulette ignored her, attacking Gretchen's cunt with maniacal intensity. The porn films I had been watching over the last few days inevitably featured lesbian scenes, but nothing compared to watching the real thing.

Paulette must have had a talented mouth for a transformation quickly came over Gretchen. She stopped struggling and soon was rocking her hips into Paulette's face. Paulette rammed two fingers into Gretchen, who squealed in delight. Gretchen's eyes returned to me, watching me masturbate as I watched Paulette eat Gretchen's pussy. When I cupped one of my breasts Gretchen did the same. When I brought it to my mouth and licked my nipple, so did Gretchen.

Gretchen and I had once again converged, each of us bounding lock step towards a powerful orgasm. Gretchen came first, screaming in delight and shoving her cunt into Paulette's face. My scream echoed hers; it was heaven. My mind was consumed by a fantastic display of shimmering lights.

* * * *

I sat there a few minutes, mired in the joy washing through my body. When I noticed Gretchen staring at me, a silly joyful happy grin on her face, I went to lay next to her, softly stroking her skin. She did the same to me. It felt nice to be touched. I'm not sure how long it was, but Paulette returned and kissed Gretchen on the lips, a sweet sensual kiss. "You just lay here honey, I'll see our guest out." Paulette helped me to my feet, guided me to my clothes, and walked with me into the store. Waiting on the counter was a nicely wrapped box.

"I assumed you'd choose the Mercy Corset and accouterments. Here they are. On the house."

"You don't need to do that," I said.

"I started out as a manager of a Victoria's Secret. Over time I noticed something curious about the young woman who applied for jobs. Many of them harbored voyeuristic and lesbian desires, but were doing their best to suppress them. In retrospect it should have been obvious, the job consisted of dressing women in scanty sexy clothes. Of course it attracted women who liked looking at other women.

"I also learned something about myself. I liked young women with such hidden needs and desires. I especially liked liberating those feelings. I opened this franchise in large part to fulfil my own fantasy life.

"But its become more than that. We've developed a stable of customers who like to be watched. They come here, in part, to try on outfits before an audience of young salesgirls whose eyes burn with desire for them. For a few extra dollars the girls will watch our customers masturbate or make love. For a few more dollars, they'll join in. It's immensely profitable.

"When Gretchen applied I could sense she was just what I wanted. I have been nurturing her along for awhile now; there was a lot of family upbringing to override. When you walked in her eyes lit up; her attraction to you was immediate and you have certainly expedited the process. She will be a regular guest in my bedroom in the future. The gift is a token of my appreciation. You are also welcome to join the two of us in bed tonight or borrow Gretchen any time you'd like."

Was I ready for that? I wasn't sure.

"I appreciate the gift, but it's not necessary. I enjoyed myself. Let Gretchen know that I'll be home tonight fingering my cunt tonight thinking of you two. But as for joining in, I not sure. Yet."

"Well, when you are you know the number of the store. Call me. And if you need some relief on the way home, I have some dildos you can borrow."

With that I smiled. Here was a girl after my own heart.

"Not necessary," I laughed, "I always pack some in the car."

* * * *

What I did not know was that Scottie had also been at the mall that evening picking out, with the help of Sally's friend Theresa, just the right clothes for our date. At the same time Sally and Lauren were in bed, recovering from several long hours of lesbian love. Sally's head lay on Lauren's shoulder. Lauren ran her fingers through her lover's short hair. They were reviewing my e-mails to Sally.

"It looks like our girl is ready," Sally observed. After kissing Lauren on the nose, she continued, 'I trust you've not been a bad therapist and disclosed these confidential communications to your son."

Lauren kissed Sally right back. "No, I haven't, but I was most encouraging when he told me he planned to seduce his pretty teacher. I may even have give given him a few suggestions."

Theresa and Scottie got to Sally's just about the time I was leaving the mall. They found Lauren kneeling between Sally's legs and eating her pussy. Theresa tore off her clothes and straddled Sally's head, lowering her cunt to her friend's mouth. Scottie kneeled behind his mother, fitted his cock to her twat, and fucked her doggie style. Thus they were occupied when I got home and sent Sally another e-mail:

"Just displayed myself in lingerie to two women sales clerks. Partly inspired by me they ended up making love on the floor. What a turn-on: I was part-exhibitionist, part-voyeur, and seriously considered an invitation to join them. Have a hot date tomorrow and plan on breaking a few more rules."