So, at the end of my last story I appended a little note informing readers that I would love to write their fantasies with them as the protagonist. This latest effort is the result of one such reader's request. The woman (you know who you are. - I hope you enjoy reading your story as much as I enjoyed writing it) for whom this story is written is hot (she sent me a photo) and courageous in equal measure. It takes a certain amount of confidence and self-esteem to approach a complete stranger and divulge your innermost fantasies to them, and you Missy, have proved you have both qualities in abundance. Every word in every paragraph of this tale is for you and any scene setting that takes place is directly drawn from your own recounting. Grammatical and contextual errors remain my own.
*
To anyone else, she was just another late afternoon customer.
Missy slowly strolled around the store with no particular item or purchase in mind for now, although she knew with absolute certainty what she would be buying today. After all, she daydreamed about it more often than not. The posters of hot bodies and fad celebrities modelling the latest thing in sportswear held no appeal for her, and she was oblivious to the crass and overstated neon advertising that bombarded the senses. She was in the store for a variety of reasons, one of which was to provide fuel for fantasies.
Occasionally she would let her fingertips brush gently against an item that pleased her, leaving a wave of gently swaying cloth in her wake as she moved up and down the aisles. She cast her eye over the arrays of tempting clothing while passing, pausing now and then to conduct a tactile examination of a particularly appealing piece. To anyone on the outside looking in, Missy was a demure epitome of sophistication and poise. Inside, she was feeling the first, unmistakeable, and not altogether unanticipated stirrings of arousal.
She mused to herself as she effected a studied deliberation of some leggings, "What is it with me and stores like this? I set one foot inside and instantly turn into a raging slut."
Rhetorical question really. Missy was a closet exhibitionist; it was as simple as that. Oh she had never really acted on her tendencies, at least not in any kind of brazen way. To be honest she wasn't sure she was brave enough. She knew though that she liked to work out, she liked to look good while doing it, but above all else, she liked the thought of other people in the gym checking her out, it got her hot. There was something about sportswear that got to Missy on a primal level. She wasn't sure if it was the way wearing the gear made her look and feel or the way it made others, especially hot guys, look at her. A mixture of both she suspected.
Missy was proud of her body. She worked hard to keep it looking good, and when she was dressed for action, be it ready for a workout, or in a drop-dead gorgeous high powered business suit, she felt empowered. Being dressed to kill made her feel in charge, confident, and able to take on the world.
Her fantasies always involved good clothes, at least up until the point they were removed. One of her favourites was to imagine herself working out in the gym. She'd be wearing a front-zip sports bra with a sexy little razorback tank-top over the outside. A pair of hot tight knee-length leggings such as those she was standing in front of would show off the curves of her behind and thighs to best effect, and of course, it being a fantasy, she had conveniently 'forgotten' to put panties on underneath. In her mind's eye she was the only female present and there were invariably several hot guys straight out of her favourite movies around her, checking her out intently as she went through her routine. Needless to say the fantasy always ended with her being roughly taken on the floor of the gym by a guy while one or more others looked on. It was a favourite of hers, and lying in bed at night she had used her fingers and brought herself to an intense climax on more than one occasion as she feverishly played and replayed the fictional events over and over in her mind.
Missy knew ultimately what she was going to buy today. In fact, given recent events she was probably more familiar with the brands and ranges in this place than the employees who worked here, but there was no need for them to know that just yet. Missy was quite content for now to savour the feelings of physical arousal that were bubbling up in her at the thought of multiple pairs of eyes covertly checking out her body as she paraded herself before others.
Missy came to with a start and realised she had allowed herself to drift off. She shook her head and took a deep breath, as if doing so would inject a little clarity.
"For God's sake get a grip girl," she muttered silently to herself. "You're not here for cheap thrills, time enough for that at your next CrossFit session."
The pep-talk didn't work. In her heart of hearts she knew that cheap thrills was precisely why she was here, but with a conscious effort of will, she chose to ignore the devil on her shoulder for now and forced her mind back to the events of two days ago.
She had gone for a new job. A job she really wanted to get, and one of the reasons she was here today was to further her chances.
The particular store she was in was owned by one of the biggest sportswear chains in the country, and the position she had applied for was PA to the Chief Executive. It was more money than she had ever earned before by some considerable distance and an added bonus was that the company was located right here in her home town. It was early days yet but Missy had a good feeling about this. She felt she brought a lot to the table; she was smart, attentive, organised and had the requisite skill-set. She could handle people, discourse on a variety of subjects, and was organised in her approach.
She had attended an initial interview with the outgoing PA. She remembered vividly the nerves in the pit of her stomach as she sat on the large leather couch outside the interview room at the downtown offices.
Faceless executive types had scurried past her as she sat. Missy had felt small and insignificant as she waited, glancing up at the forbidding oak door abutting the CEO's outer office. Eventually the door had opened and a diminutive, middle-aged woman in a smart business suit had beckoned her in and invited her to sit. Missy did so. The other woman was dressed impeccably. Her hair was tied back into a long ponytail, and she wore a small and rather out-of-place unicorn brooch on her lapel.
"Alice Symmonds," she introduced herself in a business-like manner. "Tell me about yourself."
By the end of the interview Missy felt she had done quite well. She had talked eloquently about her skills, demonstrated a good product knowledge and even answered the phone a couple of times. By the end Alice was smiling, and told her that the next step would be a second interview, this time with Mr St John, the CEO.
"I think you may be what we're looking for," she began. "However, you should know that Mr St John is a rather exacting man. He doesn't suffer fools gladly; doesn't suffer them at all to be honest." Missy listened attentively.
"When you come for your next interview, be prepared," Alice smiled at her. Was that a sympathetic look in her eye? "He will ask you...unusual questions. Make sure you know what you're talking about and you should do just fine."
Missy returned to the present. Her second interview was scheduled for two days from now, and she was determined to make an impression.
She sauntered up the lingerie aisle for the second or third time and stopped at the range of sports Bras. This was, after all, part of the reason she had come here. Her pulse quickened as she reached up and fingered, and then took down, a front-zip bra that she had her eyes on. It was black, with a tastefully understated dark purple trim. Perfect for CrossFit, and of course had the added bonus of ease of accessibility for any inquisitive fingers that may want to sample the delights within when worn.
She mentally slapped her own wrist "Stop it, time for that later."
