Closing up Shop

I am such a bastard. I think this time I really screwed up my life. I have a beautiful wife, two dogs, well-paying job and a house out in the country. I'm 36 years old (way too young for it all to be over) and if my wife of 10 years finds out what just happened-I'm screwed.

I want to say right now I didn't go looking for trouble, but I found it anyway. Here's how it started. I went to exchange some clothes my wife had given me for my birthday. The size was wrong and nothing fit.

Last night I worked late a few hours at the office and decided to stop off at the clothiers where Deborah had purchased the shirt and pants.

The shop was part of a well-known chain of men's clothing, which I won't name, but I will say they were sure I was going'to love the way I looked' and that the owner'guaranteed it.'

I walked in a few minutes before closing. The store manager was busy ringing up another customer. I nodded a greeting and made sure she saw the bag I was carrying. Then I started browsing in the tie section to kill time. The sound of the receipt printer indicated the other customer's transaction was nearing its close. I glanced up as the manager followed the customer to the door then locked the door and dimmed the lights in the display areas in the front of the store.

'I'll be right with you, Sir.' She said, hurrying back to the checkout terminal.'My assistant called in sick today, so I am here alone today.'

'That's ok.' I assured her. Then added,'Do you want me to come back tomorrow?''It's no problem--I just work a few blocks from here.'

Squinting at the terminal screen, she said,'No, I'll be over in a sec. I just need to send this order to corporate.' She typed furiously for a minute pausing to swipe at the golden tress of hair that hung over one cheekbone. Shrugging, I turned my attention back to the ties.

'There!' She said triumphantly, punctuating her word with a loud click of the'enter' key. She walked efficiently toward me,'Now, it looked like you had an exchange or a return--is that correct?'

I nodded, and noticed she had fallen suddenly silent and was looking at me with a mixture of vague recognition and curiosity. I held up my bag and said,'Yeah, these were a gift and they don't fit. I just wanted to see if you had the same thing in a different size?'

'Sure, let's take a look,' she said absentmindedly. I noticed a deep blush rising in her cheeks as I handed her the bag. Her name plaque said her name was Heather. She pulled out the merchandise, inspecting and smoothing the woolen material with manicured hands that trembled slightly.

Where these the same hands that had just expertly assaulted the terminal keyboard, I wondered.

'What size did you need?' she asked, her eyes fixing on my lips.

'That's what I don't know,' I said.'32 is usually what I wear--those say 32 but are too big.'

Her eyes flitted to mine only for a second then shifted away.'This brand runs a little large,' she said and self-consciously moved to retrieve a measuring tape from a shelf.

Why was she so nervous, I puzzled.

With her back turned to me I appreciated for the first time how fetchingly beautiful she was. She was dressed in a crisp long-sleeved white blouse, a camel-colored wool skirt that hit her about mid thigh, her slim athletic legs were sheathed in very sheer light tan-colored nylon stockings and on her feet she wore dainty brown'mules' with a medium business-appropriate heel. Her hair was the golden color of a wheat field in September. She wore it pulled back in a tight ponytail except for that recalcitrant wisp that kept escaping to fall across her cheek.

She turned then, in the same motion tucking the wisp of hair in place behind one well-formed ear. I noticed her full mouth, muted pink lipstick, high cheekbones and a cute patrician nose. Her skin had an healthy, clean, sun-bronzed glow. Her blouse, open at the neck, framed a tiny gold cross on a thin, intricate chain that hung from her neck.

'Nice necklace,' I stammered.

She blushed again hotly and nervously touched the crucifix with a graceful French-manicured finger.'Thanks--my Grandmother gave it to me.'

My eyes swept down her body. Past the gentle swell of her breasts to the curve of her waist and hips, down her strong thighs to the shapely calves and ankles. She wasn't merely attractive, but vibrated with sexual tension and energy. This energy seemed to only be barely contained within her taught skin as it paced there just under the surface. My eyes snapped up to meet hers. Heather's lips were parted slightly--she had caught me gazing. Now she wasn't the only one blushing.

Thankfully, she broke the awkwardness and stepped forward to take some measurements. All business now, she measured my waist then dropped to her knees to take the inseam measurement. Without hesitation, her right hand held the end of the tape to the inside of my upper thigh while her gaze fell to her left hand down at my pant cuff.

Unbidden, my manhood responded to her touch between my legs. In a moment that is still etched into my mind, I watched this beautiful woman in front of me kneeling on the charcoal gray berber. Her golden hair glowed warmly in the recessed floods. She looked up at me offering a brief professional smile.

'Kind of a compromising position,' I joked.

She stood up fluidly and laughed,'Working in a men's clothing store you get used to it.' Again stowing that pesky lock of gold behind her ear.

'Here, try these on. They should be better.' She said, handing me a new pair of pants.

I ducked obediently into the dressing booth. I hunched out of my own slacks and looked at my erection straining at the fabric of my boxer briefs.'Down boy!' I muttered to my'man.?'We've got to be presentable for the nice lady.' I rearranged him so he was pointing straight up toward my navel and pinned him there with the elastic waistband of my briefs. I simply couldn't shake the image of Heather on her knees, those legs, that hair, that mouth just inches from my...' I shook my head in an attempt to clear it. I donned the new pants and buttoned them up. The fit was actually very good and in the mirror my rude little friend didn't look too obvious.

'I like these.' I said stepping from the booth. While I changed, Heather had busied herself by selecting a variety of shirts and a few ties. She carried some and others were laid out on a display credenza. She put them down and inspected me.

'Turn around,' she commanded. I obeyed.'Nice fit.' she commented.'The drape of the fabric creates a nice shape here.' She went down on one knee and put her hand on my lower back and swept her hand downward over my buttocks and legs to indicate the'drape' she'd just discussed.

'I'll take'em--sold!' I said, trying to be enthusiastic and funny in my nervousness. Our eyes met in the big three-paneled mirror. There was that puzzling endearing blush again!

This time her clear blue eyes held my gaze and she commented,'You might want to try something on with more room up front though.'

I looked down at the bulge in my crotch and could only shrug. What else could I do?'Sorry! That's a little embarrassing.' I lied (the truth was it made me feel very alive and powerful to have her notice.)

Smiling coolly, but still blushing she said,'That's another thing you get used to working here.' Straitening, she bit her lower lip. I stood fixed on its ripeness as the warm overhead floodlights reflected off the sheen of her lipstick.

Cocking her head, she asked;'You didn't by any chance attend High School at Bailey?'

I stopped breathing;'I did go to a Bailey High School.' I answered.'But that place is a long time and a long way from here--how did you know?'

Then she explained,'I was a student there too.?'You were a senior when I was a freshman.' Nervously now,'I had this huge crush on you then, but I don't think you remember me.'

I started to interrupt.'It's ok, I really didn't develop 'till later--I was just a shy, skinny kid with braces.?'I went to every football game that year just to see you play. Even that Victoria game--remember, it...'

I finished her sentence for her,'...it rained so hard the mud was up to our ankles on the field and the team bus got stuck for four hours on the way out of the parking lot?''Yes, I do remember that game.' We smiled at each other, our thoughts warm and suddenly far away.

'I tried out for track when I heard you were on the team.' Then she continued,'God, did I used to hate running! But I made the team out of pure determination.'

I broke in,'Listen, we weren't ever mean to you were we?''Sometimes the guys got carried away.'

She cut me off,'You were the coolest boy in school.?'Your friends were sometimes real asses, but I remember you always being nice to everyone.' I was relieved.

'In fact, the only time you ever touched me was once when I missed a hurdle in practice.?'There I was, tangled up in this broken hurdle, crying. My knee was bleeding and suddenly there was these big strong arms picking me up. You carried me across the field to my coach. I was so embarrassed. I didn't want you to see me like that.'

I shook my head recalling the incident,'That was you' You really have changed, and definitely for the better.'

She ignored the complement,'I've never forgotten that feeling in your arms--I was so safe. I felt warm and protected.'

We were standing close to each other. Conversation had ceased. She met my eyes in the silence, her nervousness now gone. Suddenly Heather rose slightly on her toes and pressed her mouth over mine. I responded without conscious thought, my tongue seeking hers to begin their twisting dance. Her mouth was wonderful and warm. I tasted lipstick. I smelled her soft perfume. Her hands, on my biceps at first, slid to my neck and hair as our kiss deepened.

My world quickly contracted until I was aware of only her darting pink tongue, her fingers in my hair and the feel of the quivering muscles of her back and arms in my hands. We parted momentarily. The deep blush had returned, spreading now to the delicate skin of her throat and chest. This time I was the one who tucked that sweet lock of hair behind her ear. My eyes fell to the opening of her blouse, the skin hot and inviting.

She watched as I unbuttoned her shirt then she removed it completely to stand in front of me, waiting. Her breasts were not large but firm and extremely well formed. She wore a dainty white-laced demi bra (the kind that just covers the lower halves of the breasts.) I loved how the ripe flesh seemed to spill out of the top proudly, clambering for attention. Her areolas were just visible through the top edge of lace. We kissed again, our hands roaming. I weighed and kneaded each firm mammary globe, brushing her hardening nipples through the thin material. Her hands roamed over my chest, arms and stomach. I helped her remove my shirt.

We kissed more urgently and I slid my hands up her thighs, the flimsy nylon material catching on small rough spots on my hands. I lifted her onto the credenza, her legs parting to allow me to stand in front of her. I continued stroking her thighs, slowly ascending to more and more secret territory. I savored the clingy electric feel of the nylon against her skin.

When I brushed against her vaginal mound with the back of one of my knuckles, Heather gasped and shut her eyes. At the same time, instinctively opening to me and rotating her hips to maximize contact with my hand. I was surprised to find almost no barrier between us. I bent to examine her more closely. She wore no panties and I could plainly see her shaved pussy, lips pouting and swollen, through the sheer material of her nylons. There was a thin sheen of wetness at her opening, the feminine lubrication glistening and spanning the little voids in the nylon like soap bubbles in water. I groaned, my other hand falling to rub my cock through my pants.

'I don't like panty lines,' Heather joked.

'I am SO glad you don't.' I said, dragging her hips to the edge of the credenza.

I knelt between her legs and pinched the thin wet nylon at her cunt opening. It ripped easily in my fingers and I made a hole big enough to allow me access to everything I wanted. I smelled her perfume again. Slowly I began to nuzzle her labia with my mouth and tongue, moving the folds of her vaginal lips gently. Then more urgently, I pushed my tongue deep into her canal and was rewarded with a quivering gasp.

I realized how hungry I was for this woman, how good she tasted and how deeply I wanted to please her. I slid a finger tip up and down her opening relishing the velvety wetness. At the same time, I began to kiss and tongue flutter the hood of her clitoris.

I raised my eyes to look up at her. Her eyes were closed, her thin eyebrows pushed together in erotic concentration. That great wisp of hair had fallen again over her cheek. I pulled her clit into my mouth with gentle suction which caused her to moan and begin manipulating and kneading her own breasts. As I suckled hungrily, she pulled the lace down to allow herself access to one brown nipple. It was already taught and contracted, the areola furrowed. She dragged one finger under her tongue and smeared the glistening saliva on the brown nub of her breast. I slid two fingers into her as I continued to minister to her clitoris. Roughly, she twisted her nipple and pawed at her other breast confined in the thin bra.

I began to lightly brush at her g-spot with my inserted finger tips while I rhythmically tortured her clitoris with my mouth. It wasn't long before I felt the muscles around my fingers begin to twitch and rhythmically contract in the quickening waves of her orgasm. Holding her breath, she convulsively abused her breasts with her manicured hands. Finally, she let out an explosion of breath in a ragged gasp. Her athletic body racked by wave after wave of orgasm.

To be continued'

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