This story takes place in a fictional world with fictional people. Any similarities to people or things in the world we actually live in is coincidental.
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Tim's support had been requested by a local contractor at the planning board meeting that Tuesday evening. Gwen waited until all the trucks were back and being unloaded that afternoon before she kissed him goodbye and headed off on her own. She had told her husband and herself that she really needed to do some clothes shopping, and that part was true; her loosening morals had made her current attire seem dull and she felt an obligation to Tim to give him what she believed he wanted. Some newer, fresher styles were needed—not too slutty, she cautioned herself, just more in keeping with the times and her expanding comfort level.
What she would not admit, what the Slut on her shoulder did not dare even suggest, was that she craved some excitement. Perhaps if the conditions were right, she might be in a position to give someone a peek of her underwear, or perhaps her bare back. All without them knowing she was doing it, of course; it would have to be a believable accident on her part.
Her destination was not the mall, but a smaller shopping center two towns over; she had no desire to run into anyone she might know, and she wondered if even the distance she had traveled would be enough to prevent that. The long-sleeve shirt that had maintained her modesty in front of the boys back at the shop was discretely removed after she pulled to a stop in the shopping center parking lot; not before a thorough scan of the area for any passerbys, however. Underneath was a tank top she had found in Alison's closet, scandalous in the amount of bare shoulder and arm it showed, even threatening to reveal a bra strap if she were not careful.
Gwen glanced down as she hurried across the scorching pavement towards the cool interior of her target. The top was a little tighter on her than she had hoped, her breasts distinctly defined under the thin material and pushed into a hint of cleavage beneath the low-scooped top. The Lady was adamant her bra would not be up to the task of preventing her nipples from proclaiming her loose morals should she get a sudden chill, while the Slut hoped the Lady was correct. Gwen took solace in the fact that the trickle of sweat running down between her breasts made that unlikely, at least in the short term.
The first blast of refrigerated air hit her in the face as the doors slid open. Gwen managed to keep a measured pace to the first racks of clothing before again looking down. The Lady had been right about the bra. She briefly thought about returning to the truck, at least to retrieve the shirt she had just removed, but instead pressed on in the opposite direction, compromising by keeping her chest pointed away from the other shoppers.
Gwen made a quick pass by the dressing rooms upon reaching women's wear, making note of the fact that waiting area and changing rooms were even more closely situated than Crandall's. That the area was currently without an attendant was not lost on her, either. One less person to put a crimp in her ill-advised plans.
She hurried back into the racks of clothing, intent on quickly choosing items to try on that she might actually buy and wear—she had to go home with something for her efforts. A look of disappointment almost cracked her deceptively-calm demeanor as another pass by the dressing rooms revealed nobody, male or female, waiting for a friend of significant other. You've been parading around this store with your nipples sticking out of this ridiculous shirt, the Lady scolded. Just try on the slutwear you've got in your hand and go home before you get in real trouble! A part of her wanted to take the direction; perhaps just going into one of the stalls and undressing would be enough to satisfy her need for excitement. The Slut finally talked her into making one more trip into the racks to look for a few more items. If there's still no one here when I get back, Gwen decided, then I'll just go in and see how these look. That would probably be for the best, anyways—this is insane!
The trembling woman continued to carefully select items, taking her time. The chill of the air-conditioning had worn off some time ago, but still the bra failed to contain the eraser points beneath it. Finally Gwen could wait no longer and made her way among the racks back to the open area at the rear of the department.
Her breath caught at the sight of the tall, thin, man standing with his back to her in the entranceway to the dressing rooms, looking down the stall-lined hallway. Gwen took stock as she brought her gathered items to her chest as a sort of shield and advanced. Neat black hair, t-shirt, Cargo shorts, sneakers with no socks, wedding band on the ring finger of the left hand which was resting high on the doorframe.
"Umm, excuse me?"
The man turned and looked down at her, a surprised smile on his face. "Oh, sorry, please, excuse me." His eyes surreptitiously scanned her from top to bottom before he moved to the side
Gwen could hear the sound of a belt buckle hitting the floor in what seemed to be the last cubicle on the right. Are you crazy? The Lady screamed. You can't go in there! What if this man decides to trap you and have his way with you! There will be no one here to help you!
That's probably his wife back there, the Slut reasoned. I seriously doubt she's going to let him do that. Besides, there's plenty of people in this store just a scream away. Gwen pressed on, selecting the second booth on the left.
With shaking hands she "carelessly" let the left half of the barroom-style swinging door stick in a partially open position, a ten-inch gap between it and its partner while she sorted and hung her potential purchases,. The oversight was not attended to, and Gwen glanced right, into the mirror on the wall. The reflection allowed her to see through the gap, the waiting area partially visible behind the thin man still standing in the entrance to the hallway. She allowed herself a long enough look to see his eyes shifting nervously back and forth between the end of the corridor and her door.
Don't look in the mirror, Gwen chided herself as she decided her next steps. Don't let him know you know. With a deep breath, she turned her back to the reflection and bent to remove her sandals.
The sound of dressing room doors rattling momentarily froze her in place. Not mine, Gwen decided. Further down the hall.
"How's this look, honey?"
A male voice, the man at the entrance, replied. "Uhh, looks nice."
"Keeper?"
"If you like it."
Gwen turned slightly and risked another look in the mirror. The man was still there, his attention drawn to the end of the corridor where his wife was modeling. She quickly averted her eyes as the sound of the door closing came up the hall and the man's eyes began to shift back to her cubicle.
Now what? Did she actually dare to go through with this crazy scheme? It would be so easy to just reach back and pull the door shut, ask him to take a seat, do the proper thing...a nice compromise might be to close the door and strip naked knowing he was just a few feet away.
No. Not enough. The Slut wanted more. Fingers moved to the zipper of her jeans without need for further instruction, slackening the tension on the brass button only slightly before it too was undone. The denim was slowly pushed down and off her hips, dragging panties along for an inch or two until the friction on them was lessened. Gwen felt some consolation in the possibility of reversing the action and stopping her depraved show until she stepped out of one, then the other leg. Now, with underwear, naked thighs and calves on display, in her mind there was no turning back.
She bent to pick up her jeans, taking the time to give her audience a long look, the top of the cleft between her globes visible above where her panties had been dragged down. Gwen finally straightened and gave up what little cover the tank-top offered with a quick pull of it over her head. Another decision point had been reached. She could stop there, clad in her bra and panties, and go about the business of trying her items on, or she could go further. The sound of the man's wife coming back out into the corridor gave her time to consider. Gwen risked another look.
