Working In A Shoe Store

I am working as a shoe salesman for about twenty years now. I began selling shoes one week after I dropped out of school. And I liked it from day one. And no, I am not into feet. I just enjoyed selling things to customers, recommending them something or helping them out with minor problems like why their shoes weren't really fitting them.

But I wasn't working for the same store for those eighteen year. I began working for a faceless corporation, I hired at one of the biggest shoe store chains out there. As mentioned above, I loved selling shoes, dealing with customers but I quickly began to hate the corporate aspect of my job.

I hated that those suits from headquarters told me how to do my job. How much time I was allowed to spent on one customers. What kind of shoes I was allowed to put were in the store I was working in -- I became a store manager about four years working for the same chain -- and I hated that they did those things without never ever having sold a pair of shoes ever. Those drones from the headquarters, they just had no clue who it really was to sell anything to a customer.

Looking back from now I still ask myself how I was able to survive close to a decade in an environment like that. When a former coworker of mine approached me back then, more than ten years ago and offered me job in his own shoe store, a store that was selling over prized footwear to wealthy, mostly female customers, I took the opportunity and said yes. I quit my old job on the same day.

My decision back than was was a that easy one because I was sick of working for a faceless corporation were I was nothing more than an easy replaceable asset. And maybe because my new boss was offering me a commission for ever pair of shoes I would sell: A certain percentage of the sales prize would end up on my bank account. That number added up quick, because luxury shoes are everything but cheap.

After quitting my old job and beginning my new one the first order my boss gave me to get out and buy some expensive, stylish clothes. He handed me the company credit card to do so. And he also was so kind to hand me a list of what I needed, because I honestly had no clue what I was supposed to buy.

After my makeover was finished I was ready to sell some shoes. I showed up at the store before it would open, I was ready to get tour through the place and to sell. But, no. That was not how things were going at my new workplace. My first order was to do some studies. He kept files about every regular customer in his office in the back.

Those files sometimes contended a picture of the customer, they always had a name, an address, how they liked their coffee or their tee, what they had bought so far, their job and mostly who they were married too. And those files also contended the customers age, sometimes their real birth date, sometimes an approximation.

My first task was to memorize as much of the data. Because the stores regular customers were expecting the salesman to know them. Luckily the customer base wasn't in the thousands. But it kept me occupied for about two weeks.

While studying the files something stuck out to me. Some of the files had written "late night customer" on them. It were only files of female customers. It being that way, and the note itself made me curious. So I asked my boss about it. He told me to forget about it, to not to worry about it. And that he might tell me about it later. He was the boss, so I did as he told me to do.

Because, well, I like to obey and to follow orders. Not that I am not able to give orders, it just is easier, more relaxed the other way around. And brings by far less responsibilities.

Then, two weeks after my first official workday in a luxury shoe shop I was finally allowed in the front, in the sales area. I sold my first pair of shoes my first day. I got a hefty commission for doing so, and selling those shoes, it had something. It was a totally different experience than at my previous, my old workplace.

I was allowed, even required to spent some time with the customer. I was serving them something to drink. I had some chit chat with them. I asked them things who is it going. I presented more than one pair of shoes. I helped them trying them on, I even put them on their feet if they asked me or signaled me to do so. I liked it. I immediately realized that selling luxurious shoes was my thing to do.

It was about two, maybe three years ago, I was working in the luxury shoe store for around seven years that my boss asked me to take care of one of the late night customers. Thirty three year old freshly divorced and therefore single me said yes, because divorces are expensive and child support isn't cheap either.

But while, or shortly after saying yes, I asked my boss about what was so special, so unique with those late night customers. A smile then appeared on my bosses face: "Well, they show up after the official closing hours."

I looked at him, and told him to declare someone else for stupid. The smile on his face got bigger, he then continued: "And they are very demanding customers. You can full fill their wishes, you can join in the game they will attempt to play with you, or not. The decision is yours. And saying no will have no consequences for you."

I listened, I nodded with my head. Those special services made me curious, I tried to get more information out of my boss, but he dodged my questions: "You will see. It will be fine. And knowing you, you will like it."

Three days later, it was a Thursday, it finally was time for my first late night customer. She would show up about an hour after the shop officially was closing it's doors. According to her file she was working in charity, she was married to some incredibly wealthy tech billionaire, she liked her coffee black and she so far had bought sneakers and high heeled leather boots. There even was a picture attached to the file. By the looks of it she was a very attractive fifty one year old woman.

The customer showed up in time. She was wearing a coat, a hat, some high heeled boots and a skirt that was rather on the shorter side. She caught my eye. I then unlocked the front door and let her into the shop. After she was inside, I locked the door behind her. While locking the door the customer checked me out from tip to toe, then she was thinking out loud: "Not bad, that could work."

Then I led her deeper into the store. We went in deep enough, and around a corner or two, so that no one from the outside was able to see what we were doing inside. No matter how hard they were peeping through the front windows of the store.

After arriving at our destination I took care of the coat the customer was wearing. I helped her getting out of it, I carefully folded the more than just expensive looking piece together and then I put it onto an empty lounge chair.

Then I pointed the fifty one year old woman towards an empty chair. While she was moving, while she was sitting down I checked her out a little bit more: She was wearing a white shirt, top buttons unbuttoned, partly showing off the lingerie she was wearing beneath. It was then that my dick began to grew and got harder and harder.

But I stayed professional. I offered her something to drink, she politely asked me for a cup of coffee. I told her that I would be with her again soon. Then I went and brewed her a cup of burned bean juice. When I served her the coffee the way she preferred to drink it -- without her telling me how she liked it, or me asking, her file had that information -- a tiny little smile appeared on her otherwise emotionless, stoic face. Then she was thinking out loud: "Someone has made his homework. Not bad."

I blushed a little bit, then I asked her what she was looking for. What kind of shoes she wanted to try on. Her answer was: "For some fun and some new boots. Not necessarily in that order."

After nodding with my head I collected all the boots that were her size, that somehow matched the ones she previously bought in stile and color and that came into our store since her last visit -- that file of her, again, really really handy. While collecting those boots I had time to think. Think about what she had said, how she had said it and combine it with the clothes she was wearing: Was she here to seduce me? Was that what late night customer really stood for? And well, from the moment those thoughts came up in mind in, I hopped that it was that way. That she was here to buy some shoes and for some nice, innocent and consensual grown up fun.

Then I presented her one pair of boots after the other. All together I told her the backstory of ten different pairs. About their manufacturers, about the material they were made off and something about the person that had designed them. The customer listened, she sipped her coffee and she crossed her legs in a more than sexy way from time to time. In the end she picked three pairs. She wanted to try them on. And she asked for my help. Moments later I was down on my knees, helping her out of that pair of high heeled boots she came in and helping her into one of the three that she wanted to try on.

I tried to act as professional as anyhow possible while doing so. I tried not too look up and lock beneath her skirt, which coincidentally was sliding up higher and higher. It was when I put the second pair of boots on her feet that the temptation got too big. I just had to peek. That peeking turned into staring the moment I realized that she was wearing no panties. Her pussy looked more than just tasty, my mouth was watering and my dick turned from hard to rock hard while I was staring at her cunt.

The customer noticed my behavior -- not that she had provoked it to begin with -- she watched me staring at her pussy, and seeing my reaction, seeing me getting mesmerized by her pussy, it put a smile on her face. After giving me some time to stare, she said the following: "Do you see something you like?"

Horny me nodded with his head: "Yes I do, but I don't touch married woman."

A tiny little smile appeared on the customers face before she told me the following: "How honorable. A man with principles. And you and my husband have something in common: He isn't touching married women either. At least not the one he is married to."

I nodded with my head, she kept on going: "He currently is on a business trip with his twenty five year old male assistant. I bet those two are fucking each others brains out. So it just is fair that I get some action too."

She delivered me a more than valid reason for her doing. She also left no doubt what she was up too. And horny me was in full swing, so I decided that it was time to put my I don't touch a married woman rule aside and just go with the flow. Then my head moved towards her pussy. I was more than willing, more than ready to taste her for the first time.

But shortly before my tongue reached her pussy her hands prevented me from moving forward. The moment my head came to a standstill her voice was in my ears: "I know, my pussy looks tasty. But for now, how about finishing trying on boots?"

A desperate moan escaped my body. Horny me really wanted to lick her pussy. I took me a moment or two to focus myself, to get back into professional mode. Suppressing horny was not easy task, but I pulled it through. I then excused myself for my behavior. The customers reaction onto my doing was: "You have done nothing wrong. It just is business first with me. The fun comes afterwards."

I nodded with my head. She then got out of the chair and walked around in the boots I just had put on her feet. She shook her ass in a more than just sexy way while walking up and down the store. After about two minutes of walking back and forth she sat down again. She then asked me to put the third and last pair of boots on her feet. A "yes, ma'am" came out of my mouth and then I went down on my knees again.

While putting on the third and last pair of boot on her feet she showed me her pussy again. By doing so she made my still rock hard dick spit out some sticky pre cum. Once the boots were on her feet, she went for a walk again. She shook her ass even more. She turned me on even further.

After finishing her walk, after making sure that the boots were fitting her feet, she sat down again. Then she grabbed her purse, she searched for some time then she pulled out her credit card and then she handed the card over to me: "I'll take the three pairs I have tried on."

I took the card, I went to the cash register, I billed the card and then I gave it back to the customer. While I handed her that rectangle piece of plastic back I thanked her for buying, she thanked me for selling her those boots after the official opening hours of the store we were sitting in. And then, then she asked me another question: "Can you put the boots I just bought into some bags for me and can you please help me putting the high heeled boots I came in back on my feet?"

Another "yes, ma'am" came out of my mouth. Then I went down on my knees again. I pulled the third pair of boots she had tried on off her feet, then I slid her old boots on her feet. While doing so I stared at her pussy. She was showing off again. And yes, I was licking my lips while doing so. I was planning on making a move after her old boots were on her feet again. But she was faster. As soon as the second boot was on her foot she called me out for staring at her pussy. She did it in a very unique way: "You really love my pussy. Show me how of much of a turn on she is for you."

Without hesitating I confirmed her order and unzipped my pants. A few seconds alter my needy hard one was set free. The customer carefully watched my doing, and then she gave me another order: "Now, touch yourself. Please yourself while looking at my perfect pussy. But don't cum, unless I tell you to do so."

The next "yes, ma'am" came out of my mouth. Then one of my hands touched my hard one. Then the same hand grabbed my hard one. And then the same hand began to go up and down on my hard one. While I was watching, lusting for the customers pussy.

Every stroke I gave myself felt better than the previous one. It didn't took long and my moaning was filling the room. The customer carefully watched every move of mine. After some time doing so she critiqued my doing: "Aren't you forgetting something? Don't you like your balls to be played with too?"

Moments later my free hand was on my balls. I played a little bit with them. I touched them gentle while doing so. It worked, it enhanced my pleasure. But my doing was not good enough for her, the customer: "Squeeze them harder. You are barely touching yourself."

I moaned out another "yes, ma'am" before I squeezed my balls harder. Then it was a mixture of pain and pleasure. It felt good. Surprisingly good. And the sensation made me sink even deeper into the act, it was then that my eyes began to run in circles while I worked myself closer and closer to an orgasm. The moment my eyes began to run in circles, the customer talked down to me again: "Have I allowed you to take your eyes off my pussy?"

I took a deep breath in and out. Then I focused myself. Then I began to stare at her still more than tasty looking pussy again. While one of my hands kept on going up and down on my hard one, and the other one kept on squeezing my already aching balls. Harder and harder.

Every stroke, every squeeze I gave myself made me feel better and better. The urge to cum grew and grew. I came to a point where I just had to ask her: "Can I cum now?"

She said no. She told me to keep on going a little bit longer. I then begged the customer to let me cum. I really, really needed to nut out a load. My dick was already more than just leaking pre cum. My balls were more than full. I was a needy horny pre cum leaking mess.

But the customer got her thrills out of it. She enjoyed watching me getting more and more desperate with every second I was playing with myself. It put a smile on her face. But she was only overdoing it a little bit before she showed me mercy: "Cum for me. Cum on my boots. Now."

She then crossed her legs. One boot ended off the ground. I gave myself a few final strokes while trying to squeeze as much of my cum out of my balls as anyhow possible. Then I came. My whole body was trembling while my cum ended up on her high heeled leather boot. I then wanted to relax, to enjoy that awesome post orgasm feeling.

But the customer had different plans. As soon as I was done cumming, as soon as there was no cum coming out of me anymore, she gave me another order: "By the looks of it my boot is dirty, how about cleaning them? Now?"

Without thinking, without hesitating I stuck my tongue out and then licked my own cum off her boot. The customer was more than helpful by pointing me towards every little single tiny spot that I was missing. And then, when her boots were clean, when I had shown her my empty mouth, the game was over.

I got up, I put my pants back on, then I helped her putting her coat back on. Then I put the three pair of boots she was buying back into the boxes they came in, and then I put the boxes into some bags. I handed her the bags, I grabbed my things and then the customer and me left the store together. In front of the store our way parted for the time being.

While doing the things mentioned in the paragraph above we talked about our session. We talked about the game we played, we came to the conclusion that we both enjoyed ourselves. And we agreed that doing something similar in the future was totally doable.

On the following day I told my boss about my previous night. He listened, and then asked me the following: "And, have you really enjoyed yourself?"

A smile appeared on my face when I told him that I had a blast. That it made me forget about the nasty divorce I just was going through. While listening to me a huge smile appeared on my bosses face: "So you are totally okay with meeting her again?"

I told him that I'd love to meet her again. His reaction onto my reaction: "Good. Her assistant has already contacted me. She will come shopping again in about three weeks."

I nodded with my head. Then I asked my boss a question: "Are all late night customers like her?"

He gave me the following answer: "No, she is a unique one. Most of the others show up after the official opening hours because they value their privacy."