Three PM at the coffee shop last week, I saw someone I had not seen for nine years. Monet was a woman I had hired years ago to work in the shop I ran at the time. I was not the owner, but managed a gift shop on Sutter Street at Stockton in San Francisco. She and I ran the shop nights and weekends, and she was always nice to be around. At the time, we were both in our twenties, and things were good. No cares, lots of free time, and we both got to sleep late every morning. Except Saturday and Sunday, since we ran the place from 10am until 8pm. It was a great time. The place was in a good neighborhood, with a tourist trade.
We sold all types of Indian goods there, including clothing. Men would bring their wives or girlfriends in, or some would come alone, to see the beautiful silk Saris, and the all would want to see how they looked in them. A Sari is just a length of cloth, and we had expensive embroidered silk. To dress in a sari, a woman has to be wrapped in it just so, and it needs to be secured in a particular fashion, or it will come undone. I had to help them wrap them on, since they had no idea how to do it. This entailed much touching of women, and I thought nothing of it. I did, however, notice that I kind of liked to touch pretty young girls while dressing them. More than once, a woman would make sure I got to feel her up really well. Looking back on it, I realize now that they were flirting with me constantly. They would always press this or that part of their body against me as I adjusted their fit, and I was too naΓ―ve to realize what they were offering at the time, and regret all the opportunities that I let slip by.
The shop did not actually have a dressing room, and all we offered was a small curtained corner for the customers to try things on. There was no door, just an Indian bedspread hung from a curtain rod for privacy. There was no securing the curtain closed, and usually there was a wide crack open for all to see the goings on inside. I did notice that there were many exhibitionists in the 80's in San Francisco's downtown at on a weeknight.
Needless to say, there were also many women willing to be handled by another woman in that shop dressing room in those days. In addition, there were always women who would leave the curtains almost completely open as they tried other things on, and there was a good deal of lingerie on display from these women.
At a youthful age, I saw things I never saw before outside of magazines.
For instance, there was one woman who changed clothes in full view of Monet and me as we were all alone in the store. She was wearing long leather boots, open crotch panties, a garter belt, a push up bra, and not much else under her coat. I remember blushing and feeling a warmth and wetness in my pussy that night. She was Asian, young, and very erotic.
I should have followed her to her car. But I didn't. One that got away, I guess. She could have taught me much, I am sure.
The men who were in the shop would frequently have a hard time avoiding the show. Monet and I had a signal. When either of us would notice an exhibitionist in the dressing room, we would call for a "price check on the water buffalo sandals". This resulted in both of us meeting near the cash register and having a clear sight of the curtained booth, with the babe inside showing us her pussy, or whatever. This allowed us both to amuse ourselves with the goings on. But it was all innocent fun. Neither she nor I ever got a chance to close the curtains behind us in that dressing booth and get it on with a customer. Pity.
Since she worked under me, (so to speak), and we were both quite proper employees, I certainly behaved myself with her, even though I noticed how attractive she was. Back then, I only was interested in men, and had a boyfriend.
Anyway, that was then, this is now. Since then, I have learned much about how to please men and women, and myself.
Now, years later, at the coffee shop, I saw her in a different way. I felt blood surge when I saw her. I felt a wetness in my pussy that never would have done in my past daily working relationship.
Nowadays, I have few limits on my sexual pleasures, and before I said anything to her, I spent a few moments looking at her body. She was wearing white leather boots that reached her knees, and she had very sexy horizontally striped black and white stockings that kept going up her legs another six or eight inches past her knees. She had on a short black skirt, and a white button up blouse. Slung over her shoulder was a little purse from which she was fumbling for a few dollars to pay for her coffee.
I got up from my table, walked over to her, and said, "Here, let me pay for that..."
She looked up, her eyes widened, and she smiled broadly. She threw her arms around me, hugged me tight, and squealed, "Karen!...How great to SEE you!..."
She kept hugging me, and I certainly appreciated her small breasts pushing into me. I hugged her back, and it lasted a bit longer than it should have. I made a slight effort to make contact with her body along it's entire length, as much as was polite...
"I thought it was you..." I said.
"It's me...how are you?"
Well, it went on a bit there at the counter, small talk, until her coffee was served. I paid for it, and we sat down at my table. There were only a few other customers in the shop.
Listen..... I know you probably don't really give a crap about this part, so let's just cut to the chase. I seduced the sweet little girl, or she let me seduce her, and she followed me home in her car. I had promised her some really good wine or some such shit, but we all know it didn't matter what the hell it was. The main thing was, I got her to come to my place, and we were finally alone. It was