It's actually kinda totally awesome that you wrote me just now, because I had, like, a super long drive earlier this week and, well, like, I was letting my mind wander, and, well, I thought up this kinda fun sequel to the story I sent you before about going down on you in an aisle at your store in front of a security camera.
What, can't a girl have a little fun on a long drive in her fancy new sports car (hush you, a CRZ is *totes* a sports car!)? It was dark out, no one could see what I was doing in there! ^.~
Anywho, you just-so-happening to write gives me a great opportunity to flesh out my sequel idea! Always my favorite way to neglect my real work ^.^
It would start the next time I came to see you, like, the *very* next day, or some such. As soon as I walk in front door, the little "shoplifter" sensors go off, buzzing, light blinking. I look quizzically at them, since I obviously am not stealing anything, what with just having walked in. A tall, burly security guard walks out of a door nearby, coming up to me.
"Excuse me, miss, did you set off the alarm?" He says politely, face the usual security-guard-mask-of-sternness.
"Heh, ya, but-" I start, smiling at how silly this is.
"Do you mind letting me look through your purse and turning out your pockets?" He says. Sternly.
"Uh, sure, ya, I mean," I shake my head, pointing to the door, "I'm just coming in, is all, I mean, like, I couldn't have, like stolen anything." I reach into my tight yoga pants, pulling at the slim pockets. Unsurprisingly, they don't seem to be the kind to turn inside out.
"I'm sorry, but store policy is store policy." He says, taking my purse. "When the sensors go off, we have to do a search until we can get you through them, or we've got to call the police."
"Um, okay, right," I look nervously at my purse as he pulls it open, unsure if I took out everything I think I took out. An eyebrow raises. Nope, my vibrator is definitely still in there. "Uh, my pockets don't seem to turn inside out." I swallow, smiling awkwardly as he pulls out the vibrator.
"I don't think you probably stole this from here..." He smirks, waggling it in the air. I glance around, some young guys in the one operating checkout aisle look amused by my situation, but mostly no one is around to notice us. "Do you mind if I simply do a brief frisk, since your pockets won't turn out?" He sets my vibrator and my purse on a shelf behind the "shoplifting" sensor.
"Um, okay, I guess." I shrug. "My pockets really are empty."
"Policy, you understand." He lift my arms up above my head, his large hands roughly patting down under my arms, along my sides, pressing a little too obviously against my breasts.
"This, uh, hardly seems necessary." I mumble. I wore my very most sheer top today with my very most dark black bra under it just to show off for you, and it's the very most clear that that's all that's under my shirt. Heck, you can even make out the details of the little frilly pattern on the bra pretty well, this top is so transparent. Very mostly, at least.
"Policy." He says, hands patting down around my hips, his large fingers reaching around the curve of my ass as he goes. He presses his fingers gently on the inner thigh of my stretchy yoga pants, and I pull my feet apart. I jump slightly as his first pat down between my legs lands completely vertical, his hand pressing unconcernedly up against my smooth little pussy lips through the thin, tight material of the pants. Of course this would happen on a day I came here with the express intent to get you hard by leaving my panties in the car!
Should've left the vibrator there, too. Er, instead, I guess.
He makes his way down one leg, then starts on the other, and I jump a little again as the first squeeze lands oh-so-casually right on my pussy, his fingers digging gently up this time against the increasingly warm space between my thighs. I bite my lip to hold back a soft little sigh that suddenly tries to escape, wondering if he can feel a little dampness down there.
"Alright, you seem clean, go ahead and give it a try." He finishes down my leg and gestures to the door. I pause as the young guys who smirked at me from the register pass by, then I step toward the machine. Almost before I'm even between the sensors they buzz loudly again, the lights flashing.
I glance back at the register, the one customer, an old lady, looking over at me. I smile awkwardly and she looks casually back to the girl behind the register scanning her groceries.
"Hmm, well, try losing the shoes. Sometimes that can be the issue." He says, shrugging.
"I thought, well, since you patted me down and all," I say, stepping out of my shoes, the cold linoleum sending a chill though my bare feet. "I mean, I'm obviously not hiding anything, right?" I step toward the door. The alarm goes off again. I smile awkwardly at the old lady as she walks slowly up, and she shakes her head at me with a grimace of disapproval.
"Sorry, that's not enough, you have to go through without an alarm." He frowns, and I frown back. This is kind of getting annoying. "Well, do you have an underwire, maybe?"
"What?" I look sidelong at him.
"Your bra." He nods at the obvious black fabric showing glaringly through my shirt. "Does it have an underwire? That could be the issue."
"I'm just here to see Phillip! Can't he just vouch for me or something?" I pout.
"Ya, no, he can't." He shakes his head, "Hey, Sarah?" He shouts over to the young girl at the register, now scanning some middle-aged guy's stuff. "Can you call Phil to the entrance?"
"Sure thing." She leans into a microphone. "Floor manager, to the entrance."
"Thanks." He turns back to me. "Off with the bra, miss. Let's just get this done with."
I narrow my eyes at him. His face is still the same, unchanged sternness it's been since he first walked up. I groan. "Ug, fine, whatever." I reach back under my shirt and unhook my bra, reaching into the sleeves of my shirt to pull the straps down my arms. Crossing one arm against my chest, I pull the bra down, eyes flitting gently closed as I suddenly discover how sensitive my nipples are becoming. He reaches out and I let him take it. He bends down briefly, and it and my shoes end up on the shelf with my purse and the still-completely-out-in-the-open vibrator.
I pull my arm forward and look down. Yes, my big, dark, noticeably stiff nipples are very, very visible in very fine detail right through this top. And, no, my arm is not really doing a very good job hiding them, or the fact that I'm no longer wearing a bra. There's only so much practically-bare boob that my little arm can cover up.
I turn to the door, the alarm sounding seemingly as soon as I step toward it. "Fuck!" I blurt, looking angrily back at him, then over to the register, the middle-aged guy briefly smirking at me before turning away, startled by my glare. The two college guys behind him aren't so easily frightened as they giddily gawk away. "Now what?" I growl at the security guard.
"Are there any tags or anything on that shirt?" He says calmly. "Maybe on the pants?"
"What?" I look incredulous. I know I've been to stores in these clothes before. I walked out of a store with these clothes. When I bought them. There's no way there's a security tag on these clothes.
"Hey, what's up? Oh, hey Cindy!" I turn as you walk up behind me from the other side of the door. "What seems to be the issue, Mike?"
"Your girlfriend here keeps tripping the alarm. Maybe a security device on her clothes?"
I look angrily at you. "Phillip, can you make him stop? This is dumb. I'm not stealing anything." You smile apologetically, and suddenly I feel less angry.
"It's just, well," You sigh, "We just did a store-wide inventory and it seems like we've had a pretty bad rash of thefts recently. I just... it's a temporary thing. This policy. Objective quality evidence and all that."
I stare at you. "OQE? You're playing the trust but verify card? Is that what's going on here?" I glare, and you look apologetic. All you can do is shrug.
"He already took my bra. You can..." I start to whisper hoarsely, stopping as the middle-aged guy walks past us, and I swallow, pausing as I eye him eyeing me. "You can really, really see my nipples in this shirt!" I continue.
"Then, well, maybe it won't really be that bad if you have to take it off. Right?" You say, shrugging.
