Greta Simpson is the matronly proprietor of "Fancy Pants" lingerie boutique.
I had been one of Greta's regular customers since she opened three years ago. I frequently purchased a sexy negligee, bra or some flimsy panties to spice up my sex life.
Her stuff was not cheap, I could spend $85 on a bra, but it would be sensational.
Each year shortly before Valentine's Day Greta has a gentlemen's night. She keeps the shop open until midnight and has two or three gals model items for male customers only, boyfriends and husbands buying their woman a gift. The small shop is usually wall-to-wall with guys.
This year Greta surprised me asking if I would be one of her models? She said if I agreed I could pick out any outfit for myself in payment.
Several of her ensembles sold for two hundred dollars! I told her to put me down as one of her girls.
I never mentioned my modeling assignment to my hubby who I didn't think would be too sympathetic about me prancing in almost nothing in front of a bunch of strangers.
The night of the show finally arrived and I showed up at Fancy Pants an hour early as Greta asked. The shop was closed in preparation for the fashion show.
I met Greta's husband Bert who had tagged along to help. Bert was a kindly man, in his early sixties as was his wife. In addition to Bert there was another woman sales clerk and my two fellow models.
Dianne was sitting in front of the dresser mirror wearing only a pair of panties oblivious to Bert's presence. She was an early twenties brunette with small breasts and a petite figure.
Also milling around in only panties was Donna. Donna was a hard-looking buxom blonde pushing forty. Donna's boobs were huge, appeared to be about 40DD with 3" pink nipples.
"Why don't you try some things on and get your size?" Greta suggested.
Self-consciously I began to remove my street clothes I had arrived in.
I was aware of Bert watching me as I disrobed. First my slacks came off and then my sweater and finally my bra. I stood before him in a pair of white bikinis and a forced smile.
I soon become accustom to being almost naked in front of these strangers and went about trying on various outfits. By the time door-opening time arrived I was right into it.
"O.K. ladies, time for the panties to come off!" Greta announced before allowing the customers to enter.
Everyone knew the guys came to see what they could and we were to spice it up by not hiding anything! I had carefully shaved that afternoon and my pussy was thoroughly bald. Bert's eyes were locked on me as I peeled of my knickers and donned my first outfit.
There were at least half-a-dozen early birds waiting to get in when Greta opened the door. I had selected a floor-length white transparent negligee as my welcoming number. It concealed nothing and my bare breasts and bald pussy were clearly visible through the filmy material. Dianne and Donna wore equally revealing outfits.
Soon the shop was a madhouse of activity. Try this on, try that on, the requests were endless. The small change room was hopelessly overburdened so we begin changing outfit right in the store with the customers watching us remove one outfit to put on another.
Greta had furnished a wine and cheese table for the customers' enjoyment. Several glasses of Chardonnay had been handed to me, which I had hastily downed to get on with my task.
Soon everyone was getting jovial and the touching began. It was casual at first and became more deliberate, groping my breasts and caressing my ass cheeks. I ignored it as part of the atmosphere.
Meeting no resistance fingers begin blatantly entering my pussy for a feel. I laughed it off as part of the show,
