Jules 06 - the Second Photo

Author's Note: This is a chapter in a multi-part story and is not intended to stand alone. This is my first attempt at writing erotica, so feedback is highly encouraged.

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J stops abruptly, snapping me out of my thoughts. "Ready for picture number two? I think you'll like this one even more than the first." I look up to see that we stopped in front of the boutique where I bought the sundress. "Your favorite clerk is waiting for you."

I'm buzzing with anticipation as I enter the store. I suddenly realize that Lisa already had the photo before our last encounter. That would explain why she didn't seem reluctant to take some liberties with a customer. Under the circumstances, I probably wouldn't complain to management. "Not that I have any complaints," I laugh under my breath.

My nerves start to falter and all of the confidence I felt with Gus drains away. What does she think of me? Does she think I'm just some tart that gets naked at the drop of a hat? For that matter, am I? I've shown my body to more people in the last 24 hours than I care to think about. I'm filled with an overwhelming need to make Lisa like me. I don't just want her to desire me. I want her to respect me.

And yet, I'm here to bargain with my 'charms' for some lewd photo. A photo that shows me as exactly that kind of tart. Lewd, there's that word again. But what other way do I describe it? Stewing in my own self doubt isn't going to do me any good, though. I have a job to do.

I find Lisa at the proverbial scene of the crime, still hanging and folding discarded clothes by the fitting rooms. "I was hoping you'd be back" she beams. "I think we have some unfinished business." She doesn't bother to hide her appraising leer. "And you still look amazing in that dress!"

I keep my voice low, not wanting any to overhear us. "Hi, Lisa. Yeah, I need to get that picture back."

"You didn't think to mention that before? Or were you just too distracted?" There's that look of mischief again. That doesn't bode well for me.

"I didn't realize you had it then."

This is met with a quizzical look, like she's trying to piece together some puzzle. "Hmm... I don't know, I really like it. Maybe I should keep it. I have some friends who would like it, too." She's obviously taunting me. This may not be as easy as I hoped. My confidence wanes further.

"Um... maybe I could give you... um... something else." God, I sound pathetic.

"Oh yeah, like what?" She seems intent on embarrassing me as much as possible.

"I could show you my... um... breasts."

She hooks one finger over the top of the dress, pulling it away from my body, and glances down at my chest. "They are nice, but I've seen them before. Remember?. What else do you have to offer?" She releases the front of my dress and turns back toward her folding.

Lisa is obviously enjoying this too much to make it easy for me. Time to up the ante. "I could let you touch them."

She stops what she's doing and turns to face me. "Touch what?"

"My... breasts."

Lisa walks over and stands directly in front of me. "Let me give some advice. If you're trying to barter away your body, you really need to sell it better." She looks me up and down. "You've got the product, but you need better marketing." My face begins to flush with embarrassment, and more than a little desire.

"For example," she says matter-of-factly, "No one will be tempted by 'breasts'. They want 'tits' or 'boobs' or even 'tatas'. And no one wants to just 'touch'. It's much better to 'fondle', or 'grope' or 'cop a feel'. So, let's try again. What are you offering in exchange for the picture?"

My body is brimming with arousal, but this is new territory for me. "You could... feel my boobs," I say awkwardly.

She lets out an impatient sigh. "A little better, but still way off. Try again."

"Lisa, would you like to fondle my tatas?" I say with a sheepish giggle, getting into the spirit of things.

"Better," she smiles. "One more try, really sell it."

Lisa's carefree attitude and contagious enthusiasm overtake my usual reserved nature. I glance around quickly to make sure we're alone. "I'll whip out these fun bags just for you. You can grope them all you want." I grab my tits through my dress and give them a playful squeeze. "Fondle them, grope them, maul them..." I laugh at the absurdity of my words, but I also feel my desire well up. "Pinch my nipples, twist them, tweak them," I begin to work my own nipples through the dress. "Make me cry out in pleasure and beg you for more." I look at Lisa, waiting for her reaction.

"Well done!" she laughs. "Get in here." She leads me into the same changing booth I used previously. She stands me in front of the full length mirror on the wall and takes her place behind me. "All right, whip 'em out!" she says with a grin.

I hold her eye in the reflection in the mirror, trying to portray more confidence than I feel. I slowly unbutton the dress to my waist, for the second time in an hour. I try to make a little show of it, but suspect it's more awkward than alluring. With a smile, a flourish and a soft "tada!" I pull the dress open to reveal myself to Lisa's hungry eyes. She takes a long moment to drink in the sight before easing the straps from my shoulders. The top of the dress falls away, leaving me completely stripped to the waist.

Lisa's arms encircle my own as she gently cups my breasts from behind. My 'tits' I correct myself. My arms are trapped against my sides, adding to the excitement. My soft murmur turns to a sharp intake of breath as she pinches both nipples sharply. "Very nice," she purrs in my ear. "Very nice, indeed."

Lisa grabs my tits again, more firmly than before, and begins to knead them. I close my eyes and lean my head back against her shoulder, surrendering to her touch. "Do you like this? Do you like it when I grope your tits?"

"Yessssss!" It comes out as much a hiss as a word.

She leans in close to whisper to me. I feel her lips graze my ears. Her breath is deliciously warm on my face and neck. "Tell me. I want to hear you say it."

"I love it!" My voice is shaky with lust. "I love the feel of your hands on my breasts! I love it when you grope my tits! I love it when you pinch my nipple!" She complies with my desire. "Harder!" She does.

I feel her hand slide from my breast down across my stomach. Her hand dips below the dress, still fastened around my waist, until I grab onto her forearm. It takes all of my resolve to stop that hand's descent, but I need to regain some control over the situation. Finally, in between pants, I manage to choke out "That wasn't part of the deal." She stares at me for a brief moment, dumbfounded, before she breaks out into a wry grin.

"I guess you're right." She withdraws her hand from the front of my dress and straightens her own clothing. "Such a shame," she says with more than a trace of reluctance. She gives my exposed body one last appreciative look, and then exits the booth.

Moments later, I'm walking out of the store with the picture in hand. I note the writing on the back. "Call me! -Lisa" with a phone number.