Jules 07 - The Third Photo

Author's Note: This is a chapter in a multi-part story and is not intended to stand alone. This is my first attempt at writing erotica, so feedback is highly encouraged.

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I rejoin J outside the store. Even though she wasn't inside to witness anything, she gives me a knowing smile. "You look a little... unfulfilled". I grimace. In my effort to exert some control over Lisa and the situation, I denied myself a chance of release.

We walk in silence for a few minutes, as I replay my encounter with Lisa in my head. Soon, J guides me into a small nook away from the main traffic. She backs me against the wall with a hand on each of my hips and I feel the cool surface against my bare shoulders. She leans in close to speak softly into my ear, while slowly drawing her hand to the front of my dress. "I'm really proud of the way you've handled these tasks so far." She coos, as her fingers manipulate the dress directly in front of my crotch. "You've come so far in so short a time." She slides her in hand into the opening between two buttons. I inhale sharply as J's fingers caress the insides of my thighs. I look past her at the people walking by, unaware of what's going on in our half-hidden alcove.

"You just have one picture left..." Her fingers glide towards my sex. "...and then I can give you the reward you've earned." She draws her finger teasingly, up and down my panty covered lips. "But I need your full attention for this last task. It may prove... chal-len-ging." She punctuates each syllable with a gentle tap on my clit. My thong is drenched from my relentless arousal. Then suddenly, her hand is gone. I groan in frustration and J gives me a sympathetic smile. "Come now, Little Butterfly," she says, pulling me back into the mall. "The game waits for no one."

I follow J in a half conscious daze. My sense of worry kicks into overdrive as we stop in front of a comic book and gaming store. She stands before me making a show of straightening my clothing, like a mother sending her child off to school. "Ask for Sam." I barely notice as she opens the top button of my dress before ushering me forward with a gentle push and a knowing grin. What is it with her and buttons?

Growing up as a self-proclaimed computer nerd, I've had plenty of experience with this particular subculture. I know that the stereotypes you see in the media don't always hold true. Still, stereotypes exist for a reason.

I walk into the store hesitantly and scan my surroundings, looking for the most likely "Sam". I only spot three people in the store. There's a young man, kid really, behind the counter - all bangs, brooding, and Bauhaus t-shirt. Although maybe 20, he could easily pass for a high schooler. 'Emo Boy', as I dub him, tries his best to look disinterested in a flirtily dressed woman entering the store, but his eyes track my every move. There's a slightly older guy, probably in his mid twenties, straightening the comic books on one of the shelves. He's slightly overweight, has a bit of acne and seems completely devoid of any fashion sense. 'Comic Geek', as I uncharitably name him, stops what he's doing and watches my entrance without a hint of subtlety.

The reaction of the two boys, I can't think of them as men, speaks more to the store's usual clientele than anything else. I'm cute enough, I suppose, especially when I'm done up with hair and makeup. But I've never been one to turn heads the way J must. I don't have that kind of presence in a room. Still, I couldn't look more out of place in my trendy, brightly-colored sundress. And it certainly does show a fair amount of skin.

The third inhabitant is a haggard looking woman sitting at a small table, pecking at a laptop with one hand and holding a half-eaten slice of pizza in the other. I'd estimate she's in her late forties, but it's a little hard to tell. She eyes me curiously as she takes a bite of the pizza.

My guard goes up under the trio's collective scrutiny. I feel none of Gus' warm adulation, or Rick's fumbling curiosity or even Lisa's playful bravado. This feels dirty... hungry... wrong. At the same time, I practically vibrate with pent up sexual energy. Every nerve is on edge and every sense is amplified until I can almost feel their stares pawing at my body. My steps falter in anticipation. Whether of danger or some illicit thrill, I can't tell.

Not knowing what else to do, I start towards Emo Boy behind the counter. I'm just about to speak when the woman stands, wiping her mouth with a greasy napkin. "Back again, huh?" she asks, not seeming sure what to make of me.

"Pardon?" I ask in genuine surprise.

"You came in here first thing this morning. Dropped off a... package." She's watching her words, still appraising the situation. "Said someone would be back for it and had some crazy story. Can't say I thought you'd show."

All eyes are on me now, even Emo Boy stops trying to hide his curiosity. "Are you Sam?" I ask the woman. My mind is racing to process the situation. I wasn't expecting her, and I certainly wasn't expecting an audience. At least there don't seem to be any customers.

"Yep, like I told you earlier."

I look to the doorway for any sign of J, but she seems to have disappeared. "That wasn't me. That was my... uh... sister." I'm not sure what J is to me, and I don't want to try to explain it. I guess made up the way I am, the resemblance between us is even stronger.

Sam looks me in the eye, with obvious distrust. "Whatever you say. Your 'sister'," she wraps that word in air quotes, "said you'd really want to get that package back. Is that right?"

"That's... um... yes. That's right."

"And your 'sister' said I should ask for something in return."

"What... uh... did she say you should ask for?" I look around the store. Comic Geek has wandered over to get a closer look, and Emo Boy is staring openly. I meet the gaze of the two boys defiantly, but inwardly my fear is growing.

Sam chuckles under her breath. "She said I should be creative."

The idea hangs in the air for a moment. Until 24 hours ago, I had never regarded a woman sexually. While recents events may cause me to reconsider my stance, this is not the woman to turn me. I steel myself for what comes next. "And what did you have in mind?" I ask, trying unsuccessfully to shift from shell-shocked to sultry.

"Hah!" Sam startles me with her boisterous laugh. "Oh honey, you're barking up the wrong tree. I don't get off on that dyke stuff."

Shaken, I continue, "What DO you want, then, Sam?" I'm growing more confused and agitated by the moment.

She looks me over again, and scoffs softly. "I don't really know what's going on here, or what kind of game you're playing. You're not much use to me unless you want to stock the shelves. But here you are, wagging that pretty little ass of yours all around my store. I suppose I ought to get something out of ya." Emo Boy snickers at her comment, but Comic Geek seems to be lost in a cloud of confusion.

Sam scans around the store considering her options, likely looking for inspiration. Her thin lips form into a disconcerting smile. "I know. Come over here, uh... what's your name, anyway?"

"Jules" I reply before realizing I probably shouldn't use my real name.

"Jules? Is that short for something?"

"Juliet" I answer truthfully, figuring the damage is already done.

Sam shakes her head, chuckling. "Oh, that's just perfect! Come over here, Juliet." She leads me to a small reading area near the back of the store. Shoulder height shelves partially obscure the area from the doorway. I'm thankful for whatever privacy they grant.

"Jimbo, bring that chair over here," she calls to Comic Geek.

"It's James," he says nervously, as he pulls a folding chair towards us. Sam dismisses his correction with a wave of her hand.

"Right here" she points to a spot roughly in the middle of the area. While James places the chair in the indicated location, Sam walks over and retrieves something from behind the counter. She walks back to us, obviously pleased with the plan forming in her head. "Take a seat, Jimbo." He starts to correct her again, but decides against it. "Ryan, you can watch from there," she says, pointing to a spot at the end of the row of shelves, "but keep an eye out for customers." Sam then ushers me directly in front of James, who is sitting in the chair as directed.

She shakes her head absently before continuing. She seems as bewildered by what's going on as the rest of us, but is obviously used to being in charge. "Here's what we're going to do...," I'm not really sure what to expect. Sam doesn't seem malicious, just unpleasant. But her contempt for me, and whatever I represent to her, is plain.

"I think it's safe to assume that Jimbo here hasn't had much attention from the fairer sex." James' face goes red with embarrassment as he tries to sink into the chair. "And judging from this photo, Jules is a woman of certain... inclinations." Sam holds up a manilla envelope as evidence. No one needs to see the contents to catch her meaning.

"The way I see it," Sam continues, "Jules wants to get this photo back while Jimbo needs to live a little. And me," she says with a shrug. "I just want to help everyone out. So we're going to put on a little show. Romeo and Juliet." I really don't like where this is heading, but remain silent. "The part of Romeo will be played by our own Jimbo, here." Sam gestures to where James sits, looking like he'd rather be anywhere else. "And Juliet will be played by, well... Juliet. But I was never much for the theater, so maybe we'll just skip ahead to the good parts."

I eye Sam flatly. "What exactly do you mean by 'the good parts?'" Surely she doesn't expect me to...

"Nothing like your little scene from the picture." Sam doesn't even try to hide her distaste. "I'm trying to run a store, not a brothel. Besides, it would probably give poor Jimbo a heart attack. No, he's going to sit on that chair. You're going to sit on his lap and give him a nice big kiss."

"A kiss?" I don't believe for a second that's all she wants.

"Well, not just a little peck on the cheek. It needs to be a kiss worthy of our star-crossed lovers.

We are putting on a show, after all. We need some excitement. Feel free to improvise. You've obviously got a knack for that sort of thing." She nods to the envelope. "When I feel like the balance is right, you'll get your picture back."

I spend long moments considering the situation, but deep down I know that I will do what she wants. I do need to get the picture back. But even more, I need to play J's game to its completion. For whatever unspoken reason, whatever power she has over me, I know I have very little choice in the matter.

"Okay," I say finally. "I'll do it. But no pictures." I look back towards Ryan who already has his phone out.

"No MORE pictures." Sam agrees with a shake of her head. "Ryan, put it away." Emo Boy grumbles something under his breath and slips his phone in his pocket. "Ready?" she gestures towards James. "Showtime!"

As I step in front of James, he looks up at me with panic in his eyes. I feel no attraction to him, but I do feel some sympathy. He's just as embarrassed as I am, maybe even more so. I focus on that sympathy, letting it guide me.

"James?" I say softly, trying to appear as disarming as possible. "Have you ever been kissed by a woman?"

"Yeah... sure... of course." He says somewhat defensively.

"Your mother doesn't count!" mocks Ryan. I wince, realizing I opened him up to further embarrassment.

"Shut up, Ryan!" Sam barks. I reaffirm my earlier assessment of her. Not evil, just unpleasant.

"May I kiss you, James?" I ask as tenderly as possible. He doesn't speak, but nods his head slowly. I bend down and let my lips softly graze against his. James is still a deer in headlights, unmoving. I stand over him, my legs straddling his own, and give him a comforting smile. I stroke the side of his face lightly with my fingers while lowering myself onto his lap. The dress pools around our legs. I rest my butt on his thighs and lean forward, whispering "Just relax." James' lips barely move as I plant several light pecks on them.

I have no idea how far I'll have to go before Sam thinks 'the balance is right', but I suspect that I'm a long way off. I reach down to where James' hands hang limply at his sides, and place them on my hips. His hands don't move as I release them. I place my hands on his shoulders and gaze into his eyes. "Do you like me, James?" I ask. I need him to give me something to work with. "Do you think I'm pretty?" I kiss his cheek softly.

"Yes." He answers timidly, before finding his voice. "Yes!"

My lips graze his ear. "Then tell me. Every woman wants to be told they're pretty."

"You... you're so beautiful..." Despite having to draw them out, I can't help but feel a tingle of warmth at his words. And despite the absurdity of the situation, or perhaps because of it, I can't help but get a bit of a charge. I try to block out everything else and focus my whole being on the scared young man before me. "Kiss me, James. Make me feel beautiful."

I bring my lips to his once again. This time, James starts to respond in kind. It's clumsy, but somehow endearing. I push my tongue between his and am rewarded with a grateful moan. As his tongue begins to move against mine, I wrap my arms around his head and run my fingers through his hair.

I feel his hands start to move where I'd left them at my hips. Jame's slides them up my sides tentatively then back down. I moan my encouragement without releasing the kiss. I start to rock my hips back and forth, savoring the feeling of his rough khakis on my bare thighs.

Coming up for air, I chance a quick glance to the side where our audience looks on with rapt attention. A wicked thought enters my brain. I lean in and whisper conspiratorially in James' ear. "I want you to touch me." I take his hand from my hip, the one closest to Sam and Ryan, and run it up my leg under my dress. As I pull James' hand up to rest on my ass, I realize that my dress has hiked up completely around his arm. My entire lower body is on display for Sam and Ryan. I should be ashamed. I should be angry. But my exposure, and the feeling of James' hand on my bare flesh makes me squirm with desire and I make no effort to cover myself.

As I said before, I don't find James attractive. His fear-induced passivity and lack of technique isn't helping to bridge that gap. But I haven't felt a man's touch since ending things with Paul weeks ago and I've been teased and tormented all day, constantly denied any release. I'm a bristling ball of sexual frustration, and James is all I have at the moment. I pour all of that tension and energy into the spectacle we're creating.

James has slumped down in the chair while trying to better reach my exposed flesh. I slide forward on his lap to move myself closer to his grasping hands. In doing so, my thong covered sex is pressed along the length of his hardened member. Even through his pants, the feeling is electric. James' eyes go wide with the sensation. I grind myself harder against his crotch, both of us moaning in pleasure while trying to shove our tongues down each other's throat.

Suddenly I'm aware of a presence beside me as Sam and Ryan move in to get a closer look. Still riding the thrill of our performance, I feel an urgent desire to push things further. If it's a show they want, I'll give it to them. I sit up straight, still rocking my hips back and forth in a steady rhythm. James gasps a sharp intake of breath as my mouth pulls away from his. He takes notice of our audience and starts to panic.

"Look at me, James," I say forcefully. His eyes find mine, but the look of terror remains. "Ignore them. Just focus on me." I bring my hands to my shoulders. "On us." With slow, deliberate movements, I pull one strap then the other from my shoulders. Free of its support and with one button still open from J's ministrations, the top of the dress flutters tantalizingly with the motion of my hips offering teasing peeks at the swell of my breasts. I hear an appreciative "Damn!" from one of the onlookers, unable to tell which one.

I bask in the sensations of their attention: the heat of three sets of eyes locked on my partially exposed body; the hush that falls over the room, broken only by the muffled swish of my thighs against James' pants and the huff of our labored breathing; the feel of James' palm, sweaty and grasping, on my bare skin. I revel in the salacious audacity of our performance and hunger for more. I take hold of James' hand, the one not busy under my dress, and bring it to my breast. 'Boob' or 'tit' or 'tata'', the echo of Lisa's voice corrects me. "That's it, James," I purr. "Squeeze my tits!" He begins to paw them awkwardly through my dress as my lips return to his.

James' face is flush, and sweat is beading on his forehead. His eyes are open and slightly glazed. His groping movements turn mechanical as his focus turns inwards. Then I feel it. James lets out a hushed gurgle as warm stickiness spreads beneath my thighs. I cease my motions as James' hands fall from my body. His face becomes a mask of shame and sorrow. "I'm sorry," he whispers to me. A wave of guilt washes over me, mixing with my waning arousal.

"No, James," I stroke his cheek tenderly as I try to process what I've done. "Don't apologize." I smile reassuringly and place one last gentle kiss on his lips. "You were perfect." I linger on his lap for several moments, trying to delay what comes next. Finally, I slide to my feet and step away from him, revealing the mess to the room.

Emo Boy shouts out. "Holy shit!"

"Shut up, Ryan" Sam barks harshly. "Go get yourself cleaned up, Jimbo. You can go home and change if you need." James gives me one more embarrassed look and then retreats to the back room.

Sam watches me intently as I take a moment to fix my dress, her face a mixture of confusion, self-satisfaction and disdain. I may even detect a hint of desire, despite her earlier claims. Neither of us says a word as I pluck the envelope from her hands and start for the door, seething in a tangle of emotions that I don't have the energy to sort out.

Emo Boy chimes in, still giddy with excitement. "He shoulda hit that. I woulda hit it."

"Shut up, Ryan!" I call over my shoulder as I exit back into the mall.