Summer Job: Clothes Shopping

I followed him back to the dressing room area. He stopped in front of the common room mirrors and indicated that I should go there. I out and out laughed at him. The way that visibly stung him set off a tuning fork off deep inside me. It made me a bit wet, the power I had over his.... ego. I had never really experienced anything like that before, and I was starting to think I would enjoy this more than it had looked like I would. "Not a chance buddy." I turned effortless and found several security cameras that we would be within constant sight of. "I'm not going to do a sex show or making a sex tape for you and your friends." I told him indicating the camera locations.

"Fine!" he acted as if he had been dealt a major defeat. "We will go to the stock room then," was that a smile of victory he flashed as he headed back there?

"Honestly do I give you the impression that I'm stupid?" I didn't budge an inch. "Do you think I don't realize there are cameras there as well? Dressing room. I'll let you keep the door open." I was starting to like bullying this bully. And now there was no way that anyone would take the thong back I was wearing.

"Fuck that!" he whined at me. "Fine no deal! You don't get shit!"

"Fine." I turned on my heels which I had hoped would be dramatic with the leather skirt twirling high to show everything he would be missing. However I wasn't used to the heels or that graceful in them. Though the leather skirt did twirl nicely as I almost feel on my face.

He caught me mid fall. "First dressing room with door open?" He looked down at me with pleading eyes. I liked it. I was managing bring him to me, under my power. I really really liked it.

"Let's go." I smiled sweetly at him, the devious cat that ate the canary sweetly.

We got there and I squatted down in front of him. I let my cleavage pour out of the too small blouse, and the skirt fall back from my spread legs showing the see through panties and the hint of my reddish blonde mound. I took great satisfaction that there was already a dark stain on the front of his pants. I freed his cock and my tongue swirled around the tip as it bobbed free. I love the taste of cum, and the clear fluid of excitement. But this tasted... well not good somehow and was actually relieved when he clumsily pressed a wrapped condom into my hand. I made short work of getting his rock hard cock wrapped. He pulled me up, turned me roughly toward the 3 way mirrors, and pushed me towards them. I staggered in unfamiliar 4 inch heels, barely catching myself, as he maneuvered himself behind me.

He flipped the skirt up and pushed the thin material thong to the side. I barely had any warning when he entered me roughly. If I had not gotten a little excited on my own, he could have really hurt me. I gaged, by his expression I saw in the mirror, that he seemed disappointed that he had not hurt me or that I had not cried out more then the low involuntary grunt I did let out. I was having a hard time remembering why I had been so attracted to this guy.

He grabbed my hips hard and thrust into me angrily. He might have been many things. But none of them would be a good or considerate lover. I sighed and that just seemed to get him going, I could feel his demeaning grimace bore into the back of my head and didn't even bother to look. I had had bad sex before, not this bad, but bad, and gotten through it. I would get through this.

Then came the moment when I was about to realize something about myself. It came in the oddest way. Though it would delight the asshole who was using my pussy in much the same way he would use his own hand. It would only do so only briefly. What it would actually do, is liberate me. It would tell me something about myself that I might not have known by any other means.

It came in the sound of another woman's voice, "Excuse me, but do you have this in..." she stopped short as she witnessed the sight before her, a lone shoe in her hand and surprised expression on her face.

"Yes Ma'am." He replied smoothly as he buried the length of his cock into me, his balls making an audible slap as they made contact with me. "If you will just give me a few moments to finish servicing this young.... customer, I will be right with you." He emphasized what we were doing. And by not using the word lady, bending over me, undoing the few buttons on the blouse to make my breast fall free, he made sure she knew exactly how little regard he had for me.

The lady, who seemed a bit apprehensive, was attractive, well dressed, and somewhere in her early 40s I guessed. What surprised me was, that though I was embarrassed, it was not because of modesty. It was an embarrassment born of the situation. Getting obviously used in such a way. I had some serious questions to ask myself once Don Juan womens shoe department manager was finished. Which I could tell after that display wouldn't take long. He had cheapened me in a public way which made his cock impossibly harder. Not the least of those questions would be; did she touch herself as she was turning to leave? I could have sworn I saw her fondle a nipple as she left.

I would find out the the answer to that question and many others very shortly. The woman found a seat that gave her full view of the mirrors in my dressing room. She sat placidly, watched, and waited. I felt humiliated. But not for the reason that I was being watched. Not because a stranger watched me supporting myself against a mirror and thrust my ass into the air to get fucked in a public place. That for some reason didn't bother me at all. It was because I was getting fucked in the public place with a nice sized cock in me and I wasn't enjoying it. And someone else knew that. I might as well be the whore that he saw me to be. I might as well have my hands support me on the arms of the woman's chair that watched us and see her disapproval eye to eye as I was used shamefully. I might as well have told the whole world....

That's when it hit me. Why wasn't I enjoying it? It wasn't like I just had to just stand there and let him fuck me. So I started with rotating my hips into him. Hmm yes that was better. He was taken off guard as I started moaning and enjoying his cock, in a way he never intended. Something that he was intent to stop. He grabbed my hips with brute force to stop my hip from their movement. But I was fairly fit myself, my strength was in my legs and hips. I managed to swivel, roll, and rotate my way into a pretty good time. His once rock hard cock had soften a bit with my enjoyment. Not that I cared any longer what he liked.

And my watcher seemed to be enjoying it as well. Her skirt was now hiked over her knees with one hand clearly pleasuring herself. I smiled at her and she beamed back with.... what was that? Pride? All because I had taken some little bit of control in my life? I writhed on what seemed now to be more and more of an involuntary cock between my legs. He hammered into me despite himself, trying desperately to cum before I did. Her hand had completely disappeared up her skirt. Her eyes never left me taking charge of this small corner of my life, that for an instant, seemed to be my entire universe. I couldn't help myself. I ground my ample ass into my lover and growled low at him, "Oooo Brad, fuck me harder!"

He grabbed my long blonde hair, and with a jerk, yanked my head back. His lips were tight, pressed hard to each other, and colorless. "Fuck you bitch whore!" He spit venom and little bits of spittle as he cursed me.

In response, I laughed, breathless, but effortlessly. I shrugged off the blouse and wiggled out of the bustier. "Whatever gets you going honey. Just don't stop."

It must have looked like a bad porn movie to him because he managed to get his full head of steam again, and started pumping into me with wild abandon. I was exposed in a very real way. All I was now wearing now was a 4 inch pair of heels, thigh high stockings, a skirt that was bunched about my waist, and a big O on my freshly red painted lips. And I was loving the power and thrill of it all.

And I wasn't the only one. It was obvious that the woman watching us was cumming. She was trying to force herself some quiet control, as she looked around guiltily. I felt my own waves build deep in my belly and wash over me, while bit my lip to try to keep from crying out. My knees got weak and started to buckle. A strong arm lifted me while the hand in my hair pulled me upright and slammed me hard to the cool mirror glass. He was obviously going to have his last word as he savagely fucked me, pinned almost completely naked to mirror.

My feet no longer touched the floor. He grunted his disdain into my ear, while his cock pounded hard and deep inside me. "Oh, God yes! Fuck me!" I whimpered. I liked the creaks the cheap dressing room wall made as our bodies pressed cruelly against it. I started cumming again and felt him stiffen as he came. The wall groaned as if it threatened to come down.

"Bitch!" He cursed me softly for finding a way to enjoy our experience. His spent cock pulled out of me and he let me go abruptly. I hit the floor with no strength and even less grace. I fell on my ass. Hard. Somehow I found humor in even this and the sneering asshole I had wanted to notice me for so many years. I laughed at landing on my ass. I laughed at the awaking of the sexual person I was starting to become. And I laughed at him.

The laughter cut him deep. He wrinkled his nose, as if the scent of an aroused woman on his person was the most vile smell in the world. He glared at me, carefully removed the condom, and then tossed it at me. I moved some, but not enough. The condom hit my foot, and his semen spilled and splattered on my stockinged shin and foot... and more upsetting, on one of the shoes.

I scrabbled to my feet and was ready to follow his retreating form out of the dressing room and confront him not only for myself but every woman he obviously tried to demean. A small but firm hand on my arm stopped me. It was the woman that had watched. Her touch was light, not a restraint, but a command. Her eyes danced and her gaze bore into me her will. I submitted. She closed the door and helped me get cleaned up, told me to leave the stockings and shoes on. She helped me into the clothes I had come with, then she walked out of the dressing room with me.

We approached the register where he was ringing up my purchases. It amazed me how different he looked to me now that I had seen him for who he was. I almost wanted to retch at the sight of him. However I was more concerned about why he was wearing an evil smile. I choking down the desire to slap it off his smug face. I stood there, hoping to look disinterested in what he was doing. I even managed to force myself into an open posture when all I wanted to do was hug myself, turn away, and really just leave without any further contact with this old high school "friend". But I needed the clothes and coming back in was not an option. I had to tell myself over and over that I had nothing to be ashamed off.... all in hopes that I would believe it myself.

He gave me the total and my jaw dropped. "You promised me that you would give me a discount!" I was having trouble holding my temper and more importantly my tears.

"Oh yes I did Miss. The discount has paid for the shoes as I promised. However, and you should know this, lingerie can't be tried on without undergarments on. It is for public health reasons. The stockings package has been opened, plus the condition of this blouse and skirt," He showed them and pointed out the open stocking package meaningfully, "are such that none of it can be sold."

I was deflated and trying to think. The leather skirt was very expensive and the lingerie wasn't cheap. I would have to put back too much of what I was going to get to make it through the summer and start school afterwards. He couldn't help but rub it in, "I would suggest that you could return the shoes, but I see they are in no condition that they can be."

I was about to breakdown in tears. I could, of course, tell the store manager what had happened, he would lose his job, and maybe I wouldn't have to pay for these things. But maybe not. Maybe I would be kicked out of the store and I would have to -cringe- explain it to my mom. Plus I would have to admit to what I had done. And that really did make me look as bad or worse than it made him look. I was trying to work it all out. I kept coming up with the same answer. He wins and all I got was screwed. The irony wasn't lost on me, I actually almost laughed and cried at the same time.

"I will pay for them." The soft feminine said to his and my utter shock. "But young man, I think I saw that it was you that used these articles of clothes and lingerie. Not her. I will not pay for them and neither will she." Her voice held a unassuming authority and he blanched at it.

"Yes Ma'am." He agreed unhappily as he removed the lingerie, stockings, skirt, and blouse from the bill.

She started to collect the bags and I came out of my shock to help her. "Oh yes," she said as if she was just remembering a minor detail she had forgotten as she signed the credit card receipt, "there seems to be something on this young lady's shoe. Do be a dear and clean it up." It was the dagger through his heart. I had the good sense not to act like a fool in front of this woman and rejoice in it. I was stoic when he went down on his hands and knees to clean my foot.

As he rose I thanked him for helping me with my shopping. I turned on my heels, successfully this time, and delighted in the heel clicks on the hard floors that punctuated the swing of my hips. In my mind it spelled out to my onetime friend, how horribly wrong his life went. How karma had come back on him here. However I realize, with hindsight and more experience with men, he likely just looked at my ass. That and told himself, to bolstered his bruised ego, that he had fucked that ass. Regardless of what he thought or saw that day, I was feeling good about life.

__________

A tug on my arm snapped me out of the daze I was in. I realized that she had spoken to me a couple of times but I was so.... lost that I hadn't comprehended what she had said. "Where are you parked hon?" All I could do was point. The woman seemed to sense the daze I was in, took me by the elbow, and lend me to her car. It was a short drive to a nicer upscale bar. She bought me a few drinks and we talked. Much of it was about how women need to take control of their lives and sexuality, and how I had done that. She assured me I would be stronger for it. We talked about more things that I had trouble remembering, and not having had dinner was making the alcohol rush to my head. I was soon tipsy.

That smiling face though, it seemed to reassure me and make me feel safe. We somehow ended back up in her car and outside my parents house. I stepped out and almost panicked remembering that I had left the store wearing the thigh high stockings and the 'fuck me' heels. But when I looked down I was wearing what I left the house wearing. The kind face beamed at me again as we got my bags out of her trunk.

In parting, she clasped my hand saying, "It was really a pleasure to meet you Erin. I would very much like it if you would come interview with me for a summer position I have open." Her hands left mine and a business card was tucked neatly into my palm. She drove off and I wondered how I would get my car. I got inside expecting a lecture about coming home drunk, but only a note greeted me. A cursory glance told me it was long. It was likely just, "We didn't know where you were or when you would get back, so we went to this place without you. I'm writing out a complete list of what you can have for dinner and exactly how to prepare it. -Mom"

I took the note and my new clothes to my room. I closed the door, striped off what I wearing and got into bed. As I drifted off to sleep and I couldn't help but wonder, "Do I really have a job interview? And what's it for?!?"