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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I rejoin J outside the store. Even though she wasn't inside to witness anything, she gives me a knowing smile. "You look a little... unfulfilled". I grimace. In my effort to exert some control over Lisa and the situation, I denied myself a chance of release.
We walk in silence for a few minutes, as I replay my encounter with Lisa in my head. Soon, J guides me into a small nook away from the main traffic. She backs me against the wall with a hand on each of my hips and I feel the cool surface against my bare shoulders. She leans in close to speak softly into my ear, while slowly drawing her hand to the front of my dress. "I'm really proud of the way you've handled these tasks so far." She coos, as her fingers manipulate the dress directly in front of my crotch. "You've come so far in so short a time." She slides her in hand into the opening between two buttons. I inhale sharply as J's fingers caress the insides of my thighs. I look past her at the people walking by, unaware of what's going on in our half-hidden alcove.
"You just have one picture left..." Her fingers glide towards my sex. "...and then I can give you the reward you've earned." She draws her finger teasingly, up and down my panty covered lips. "But I need your full attention for this last task. It may prove... chal-len-ging." She punctuates each syllable with a gentle tap on my clit. My thong is drenched from my relentless arousal. Then suddenly, her hand is gone. I groan in frustration and J gives me a sympathetic smile. "Come now, Little Butterfly," she says, pulling me back into the mall. "The game waits for no one."
I follow J in a half conscious daze. My sense of worry kicks into overdrive as we stop in front of a comic book and gaming store. She stands before me making a show of straightening my clothing, like a mother sending her child off to school. "Ask for Sam." I barely notice as she opens the top button of my dress before ushering me forward with a gentle push and a knowing grin. What is it with her and buttons?
Growing up as a self-proclaimed computer nerd, I've had plenty of experience with this particular subculture. I know that the stereotypes you see in the media don't always hold true. Still, stereotypes exist for a reason.
I walk into the store hesitantly and scan my surroundings, looking for the most likely "Sam". I only spot three people in the store. There's a young man, kid really, behind the counter - all bangs, brooding, and Bauhaus t-shirt. Although maybe 20, he could easily pass for a high schooler. 'Emo Boy', as I dub him, tries his best to look disinterested in a flirtily dressed woman entering the store, but his eyes track my every move. There's a slightly older guy, probably in his mid twenties, straightening the comic books on one of the shelves. He's slightly overweight, has a bit of acne and seems completely devoid of any fashion sense. 'Comic Geek', as I uncharitably name him, stops what he's doing and watches my entrance without a hint of subtlety.
The reaction of the two boys, I can't think of them as men, speaks more to the store's usual clientele than anything else. I'm cute enough, I suppose, especially when I'm done up with hair and makeup. But I've never been one to turn heads the way J must. I don't have that kind of presence in a room. Still, I couldn't look more out of place in my trendy, brightly-colored sundress. And it certainly does show a fair amount of skin.
The third inhabitant is a haggard looking woman sitting at a small table, pecking at a laptop with one hand and holding a half-eaten slice of pizza in the other. I'd estimate she's in her late forties, but it's a little hard to tell. She eyes me curiously as she takes a bite of the pizza.
My guard goes up under the trio's collective scrutiny. I feel none of Gus' warm adulation, or Rick's fumbling curiosity or even Lisa's playful bravado. This feels dirty... hungry... wrong. At the same time, I practically vibrate with pent up sexual energy. Every nerve is on edge and every sense is amplified until I can almost feel their stares pawing at my body. My steps falter in anticipation. Whether of danger or some illicit thrill, I can't tell.
Not knowing what else to do, I start towards Emo Boy behind the counter. I'm just about to speak when the woman stands, wiping her mouth with a greasy napkin. "Back again, huh?" she asks, not seeming sure what to make of me.
"Pardon?" I ask in genuine surprise.
"You came in here first thing this morning. Dropped off a... package." She's watching her words, still appraising the situation. "Said someone would be back for it and had some crazy story. Can't say I thought you'd show."
All eyes are on me now, even Emo Boy stops trying to hide his curiosity. "Are you Sam?" I ask the woman. My mind is racing to process the situation. I wasn't expecting her, and I certainly wasn't expecting an audience. At least there don't seem to be any customers.
"Yep, like I told you earlier."
I look to the doorway for any sign of J, but she seems to have disappeared. "That wasn't me. That was my... uh... sister." I'm not sure what J is to me, and I don't want to try to explain it. I guess made up the way I am, the resemblance between us is even stronger.
Sam looks me in the eye, with obvious distrust. "Whatever you say. Your 'sister'," she wraps that word in air quotes, "said you'd really want to get that package back. Is that right?"
"That's... um... yes. That's right."
"And your 'sister' said I should ask for something in return."
"What... uh... did she say you should ask for?" I look around the store. Comic Geek has wandered over to get a closer look, and Emo Boy is staring openly. I meet the gaze of the two boys defiantly, but inwardly my fear is growing.
Sam chuckles under her breath. "She said I should be creative."
The idea hangs in the air for a moment. Until 24 hours ago, I had never regarded a woman sexually. While recents events may cause me to reconsider my stance, this is not the woman to turn me. I steel myself for what comes next. "And what did you have in mind?" I ask, trying unsuccessfully to shift from shell-shocked to sultry.
"Hah!" Sam startles me with her boisterous laugh. "Oh honey, you're barking up the wrong tree. I don't get off on that dyke stuff."
Shaken, I continue, "What DO you want, then, Sam?" I'm growing more confused and agitated by the moment.
She looks me over again, and scoffs softly. "I don't really know what's going on here, or what kind of game you're playing. You're not much use to me unless you want to stock the shelves. But here you are, wagging that pretty little ass of yours all around my store. I suppose I ought to get something out of ya." Emo Boy snickers at her comment, but Comic Geek seems to be lost in a cloud of confusion.
Sam scans around the store considering her options, likely looking for inspiration. Her thin lips form into a disconcerting smile. "I know. Come over here, uh... what's your name, anyway?"
"Jules" I reply before realizing I probably shouldn't use my real name.
"Jules? Is that short for something?"
"Juliet" I answer truthfully, figuring the damage is already done.
Sam shakes her head, chuckling. "Oh, that's just perfect! Come over here, Juliet." She leads me to a small reading area near the back of the store. Shoulder height shelves partially obscure the area from the doorway. I'm thankful for whatever privacy they grant.
"Jimbo, bring that chair over here," she calls to Comic Geek.
"It's James," he says nervously, as he pulls a folding chair towards us. Sam dismisses his correction with a wave of her hand.
"Right here" she points to a spot roughly in the middle of the area. While James places the chair in the indicated location, Sam walks over and retrieves something from behind the counter. She walks back to us, obviously pleased with the plan forming in her head. "Take a seat, Jimbo." He starts to correct her again, but decides against it. "Ryan, you can watch from there," she says, pointing to a spot at the end of the row of shelves, "but keep an eye out for customers." Sam then ushers me directly in front of James, who is sitting in the chair as directed.
She shakes her head absently before continuing. She seems as bewildered by what's going on as the rest of us, but is obviously used to being in charge. "Here's what we're going to do...," I'm not really sure what to expect. Sam doesn't seem malicious, just unpleasant. But her contempt for me, and whatever I represent to her, is plain.