Jacqueline finished pulling into the parking space and turned her Prius off with hands that were visibly shaking, the familiar sensations she felt every single time washing through her. She sat in her car for a minute, her stomach tied in knots to the point where she felt sick, her heart hammering away in her chest, her hands gripping the steering wheel to keep them from shaking while her head spun with lightheadedness.
And the ache. The constant, burning, throbbing ache. Something that had her inner thighs wet as she squeezed and opened her legs rhythmically.
She glanced out the windshield at the parking lot, the flashing neon signs painting the pavement in garish splashes of red, yellow, and green. It was Friday and the parking lot was almost full, Jacqueline able to pick out the dark silhouettes of a half dozen people sitting in several of those parked cars.
Watching. Waiting for their own moment to go inside.
Jacqueline panted and wanted nothing more than to slip a finger between her labia, to delve into her clenching vulva, and then use her lubricated fingertip to circle her aching clit. It would be so easy. The bottom edge of the sleek red tube dress she had on barely covered her mound while the top hem clung precariously to her hard nipples, and with the black satin crotchless panties there would be nothing to stop her. She closed her eyes while her body shuddered at just the thought, but after a deep, slow breath she reached over to open the door and step out into the hot, humid night.
The pavement was still uncomfortably warm against Jacquelin's bare feet. She had taken the time to slip her fishnet stockings on before leaving the house, the pair that let every one of her toes slip through the black netting while she could feel the strings pulled taught between each one, the black fishnet coming up to midthigh, but that didn't count. She could feel both the sting of the fishnet and the sting of the heat biting into the flesh of the soles of her bare feet and had to bite her lip to stifle a moan at the delicious sensations.
She had only just closed her car door and began to walk towards the sliding double glass doors when she heard other car doors opening and closing.
A tall, slim woman with black hair and D cup breasts, a red tube dress clinging to her body with fishnet stockings and no shoes walking all by herself.
One or two, then a handful, then at least a dozen. She glanced around the parking lot as men began to converge on her while she held her clutch tightly in her hand.
She wanted to run, to flee to the imagined safety of the sliding glass doors while her heart tried to beat out of her chest, but continued with her slow, sedate walk, her hips swaying while the neon signs painted her in garish hues.
No one called out tonight, no one catcalled or made any crude suggestions, and Jacqueline wasn't sure if she was grateful or disappointed as the doors slid open and a rush of chill air flowed out to envelope her. She shuddered at the feel of the cold air caressing her damp inner thighs, icy fingers brushing against swollen labia. Goosebumps prickled her skin on her arms and legs and it seemed as if her nipples somehow managed to get even harder.
Jacqueline stepped inside, a hand reaching behind to lift the hem of her dress all the way up to her lower back, a fingertip caressing the narrow band of gauzy fabric of her crotchless panties that slipped between her cheeks while she let all the men behind gaze at her bare ass.
The store was as crowded as what Jacqueline had expected. A dozen men of every description, as white as Jacqueline or as dark as any of the men in her many dreams, short, tall, old, or so young as to just be old enough to get in the door, bearded and even shaved bald, all of them standing among the rows of DVD's and glossy magazines stacked on waist high display shelves. A few couples and even two women gazed through glass display counters filled with toys just as varied as the men.
Jacqueline's eyes were drawn to a woman in the clothing section who was turning her torso from side to side while wearing a lingerie halter top that cupped the bottom of her breasts while leaving her exposed, a crowd of men gathered close to admire her, and another woman holding a double dildo as thick as Jacqueline's forearm, the heads on each end of the dildo flattened and animalistic with a prominent spiky ridge running around the glans of the silicon beast.
Jacqueline suppressed the surge of excitement she felt looking at the woman and wondered who... or maybe even what... had been used as a model for that particular dildo.
Jacqueline caught the eye of the clerk behind the glass counter next to the register, an older balding overweight man with a ponytail that reminded her of the cartoon character on a kids TV series who ran a comic book store, scraggly goatee and all.
William gave her a knowing and familiar smile with a slight nod before returning to checking out the customer standing in front of him, Jacqueline walking slowly through the room while she felt every eye turning towards her to follow her progress.
She forced herself to keep her pace slow and even, her stomach tied in knots while her body trembled. Every sense seemed to be in slow motion, every sensation amplified, the bite of the fishnet stockings between her toes and feel of the plush carpet on her bare feet, the brush of the fabric of her dress against her skin with every step, the pulling rasp of cloth against her hard nipples and cold caress of air against her wet inner thighs and labia. She could see men begin to move in ones and twos, could hear the sliding glass doors open with a subdued whoosh behind her as more men came in. Jacqueline had to bite her lip and still couldn't help giving a low, nonstop moan as she struggled to keep to her slow, measured pace as she crossed the room.
An open hallway was on the opposite wall from the entrance, a dark shadowy arch with a series of numbered doors leading off into the gloom. Number six was down there, halfway down the hallway, third door on her right.
Jacqueline stepped into the shadowed gloom, her body screaming for her to hurry, to run the last few feet so she could slam that door shut behind her, but again she forced herself to take one slow, measured step after another while her heart continued to hammer in her chest.
