This little story is a "quickie." (Not
that
kind of quickie.) If you've read "C.F.N.F. Club," you've met one of these two m.c.s. Enjoy.
*****
Steal Of A Deal, Or, "Gift" Exchange
Saturday, May 27th, 2017, 11:02 a.m.
The morning was happy, spry and young. The sunlit hours saw the outdoors shared by ever so many, it being the start of one more great spring weekend. If one were to zoom down from an aerial view of the city, over the Juniper Falls Expressway connecting the metropolis to the regular business district, one might spot a topless royal blue convertible Cabriolet en route to the Juniper Mall.
The car was being driven by Stella Starr, a freelance journalist who lived and worked downtown. She had the day off and a meeting of her women's club later today, and felt like doing some window shopping in the killable time. She parked and entered via Tempra, one of the mall's anchors, and a retailer grown by a young entrepreneur called Alice Tempra. She was of Japanese descent, and saw a need for a store that fused fashions: hot, stylish American apparel with a splash of Asian flavor. Consumers and customers alike approved. Twenty years' and a dozen locales' worth of impressive sales figures later, the enterprise continued to thrive.
Stella browsed admiringly. She was a little short on funds at the moment, so she didn't plan on making a purchase. But this didn't mean she couldn't pluck product here and there, pay a visit to the fitting rooms and play dress-up. She kind of hoped she'd find something pretty, so the store could earmark it for her and she could buy it later. And at the same time, she kind of hoped she didn't find anything, so she wouldn't have to wait. Stella and delayed gratification did not get along.
Tempra's garments were sectioned by type, wearer, nuance, and sale status. Being a futchy lesbian who liked pretty much anything in her size, Stella boasted a vast wardrobe, but remained particular and exacting in her choice of purchase. She had to be. Not nearly as generously sized were the closets of the proverbial poor house—making it tough to go into them, let alone come out. No, this had to remain a mere window shopping trip. She combed and pawed at display racks, noting prices and sizes in her head, where she drew up a "yes/no/maybe" column. Ten minutes, several "no"s and a
lot
of "maybe"s later, her attention was referred elsewhere.
"Good morning, ma'am! May I help you find something today?"
Stella hated being called "ma'am," but not enough to let it ruin her day. She understood the employee was just being polite and professional. And "ma'am" remained nicer than certain
other
words disallowed in civilized company. She turned to regard the fellow ma'am asking to assist her. She was an innocent and wholesome-looking brunette, with a full face behind a pair of
sizable
eyeglasses on a band. She appeared about early- to mid-30s, close to Stella's age. Stella felt she looked a bit young to be assuming the "librarian" look, but was a creature of graciousness and said not. Instead, she dropped her gaze to the associate's sternal region, where her nametag lived.
TRISSA is here to help you!
it said. Stella reached for her hand.
"Well hi there, and a good morning to
you
...Trissa," Stella greeted with a quasi-friendly/quasi-flirty smile. "Stella. How do you do?"
"Oh. Well..." Clearly not used to such inquiries as a retail rep, Trissa was a skosh aback. But charmed.
"...Well, of course, I do just about as well as anyone else, ma'am: prone to the same ups and downs in life and all..."
"Eh, yeah..." chuckled Stella, shoving the irritation back at bay. "My name's Stella, by the way," she hintingly repeated.
"Nice to make your acquaintance," curtsied Trissa. "So then, are we looking for anything special?"
"Well, I dunno about '
we
,'" Stella smiled. "But, maybe you could show me the recent stuff? It's been a while since I last dropped in."
"Oh, absolutely, ma'am! Let's start over here!"
Grrr...
"Yeah, that-that's Stella, like I said, sweetheart. First-name basis is okay. I won't tell your boss."
So Trissa took Stella about, doing her own demonstrative display-plucking to illustrate Tempra's hottest summer threads. Stella gave each garment a thorough examination, mentally rating on her own scale of cuteness, sophistication, and complement to her skin tone. She decided she wouldn't mind owning about a third of the things Trissa showed her. But aside from her executive election not to spend money today, taking home
all
these articles was unkind treatment to her wallet and budget.
In the meanwhile, she also secretly admired Trissa. Those massive spectacles obscured her pulchritude. Maybe that was why she wore them, to deliberately "frump" herself up (down). As if folks wouldn't regard her as a professional if all they could see was her comely kisser. Of course, if she needed them she needed them, but Stella couldn't help wishing she could see the chick's face without those third and fourth eyes. Her other appealing features were unimpeded. Her chestnut hair was straight and thick, with more than a hint of wave. Her light skin looked soft and delicate. Her moderate-sized breasts pleasingly filled out her figure in her apron. And when her mouth opened to a smile, out came a series of pearly whites that just beckoned to be...
tongued
.
"...Ma'am?"
Stella felt herself rudely jolted from her reverie. Trissa was staring at her.
"...Did I lose you?"
Stella gave her head a shake, rejecting that last one loose. She gently took Trissa by the upper arms.
"
Lady...
Trissa," she corrected herself. "
Listen
to me, please. I'm sorry, I don't mean to be impolite, but I
really
don't like to be called 'ma'am.' My name is
Stel
-la.
STEL
-la. Like...like Groove Back. McCartney. Kowalski. Did you see Streetcar Named Desire? Please don't make me pull a Brando in the middle of this semi-crowded store to get my point across."
Trissa blinked.
"I'm sorry, ma—er...St-Stella...I'm just really used to 'sir' and 'ma'am.' They like us to be especially respectful and professional here."
"That-and that's fine, honey, you should. But I'm sure they also want you to honor your customers' wishes in this...department," she chortled. "No pun intended. Seriously, though, no kidding,
pleeeeease
...call me Stella."
Her salesgirl hostess slowly, uncertainly nodded. "...I'll do my best. Would you like to see some more items?"
So Trissa led Stella further along. They passed by the exit where the store let out to the main mall. Its restaurants lay close outside. When the store was acquired and built, the mall managers had thought ahead and placed it near the food court. They thought the name Tempra might make shoppers hungry. So they too made sure to include a Sakura with the other eateries. It was an appropriate time of day to notice. The appetizing scents teased the girls' noses and awoke their tummies as they strode by. Stella grinned as she inhaled the mouth-watering aroma. Again, she partly wished she had some spendable money to eat here. But it was fine; her club meeting was at 4:00, and though still a few hours away, she didn't want to spoil her appetite. Well,
this
appetite.
Trissa paused in her tracks, looking around, tapping her chin. "And...let's see, what else've we got to show you..."
Stella glanced off in another direction. She did a triple-take. And wordlessly wandered off in the direction her eyes took her.
"M—...Stella?" asked Trissa.
Stella spied a garment that stood out amid its competitors. It grew only more flashy and beautiful as she neared. It was a deep crimson yukata dress printed with a silver crescent-shaped pattern. A more subtle floral pattern was also melted into the base hue. Despite the dark color and the forearm-length sleeves, she could tell it was summer-perfect: soft, airy, billowy and heat-resistant. It would keep the wearer cool while shielding enough skin to protect from sunburn. Stella took a sleeve and evaluated the texture.
"
Oh wow
," she breathed. Trissa followed, taking the other sleeve.
"Oh, I remember this!" she told Stella. "It actually came in last year. I guess this is one of those rare cases where a piece survived our little annual recycle. $57.99, marked down from triple digits. Beauty, isn't it?"
"It's
perfect
..." gushed Stella. "It's...it's gorgeous, it's sleek, it's light as a feather..."
Trissa took it off the display rack and held it just in front of Stella's body.
"I bet it would look beautiful on you. Would I be terribly rude to ask your size?"
"You would not. I'm an 8."
"Oh now, you've gotta be kidding. I would've put you at a 6, tops."
While this may have been merely a sales technique, her comment instantly made Stella feel wonderful.
"...Trissa, honey, do you have a quota for the amount of sales you make? I'd like to help you blow it outta the water."
Trissa giggled, checking and then showing her the tag. "Well, if you really are an 8...would you like to try it on?"
...Ohhhhhh, I think I just wet myself...in a
good
way.
"...You really think it'd look nice on me?"
"Oh, absolutely! I could totally see you rocking this."
So could Stella herself. Her heart accelerated in the top she began today with. So, on a day Stella decided to visit the store, this one unique yukata just
happened
to have slept over since last year, was still here for purchase—discounted—
and
in her size.
"I...suppose it couldn't hurt to throw it on and see..."
Trissa showed her to the fitting room. This was a part of her job she very much enjoyed. She got to sit and take a nice break while on the clock. She retained the option to help others, but part of her job was seeing to customers' fittings and encouraging them towards the registers. Trissa really valued and liked her job, and especially such elements as this. After several moments passed, she called.
"Ma'am? Er—'scuse me, sorry. Stella? Everything going okay?"
Oops!
"Uh—just beautiful, T.! Just..."
Stella'd discarded her clothing, taking time admiring her nude figure in the mirror. Distracted by the reflection of her hot naked bod, she'd momentarily forgotten about the yukata. To be brutally honest, she was embarrassed. Trissa had caught her—only through the door, thank goodness—as she was about to part her pussy with one hand and play with it with the other. She often amused herself with a vocalization she'd heard from gentlemen on women's bodies. They said that if they had boobs—and/or a pussy—that they'd just be home playing with it/them all day. Stella didn't know how true this was of other women—she guessed it varied—but
she
certainly spent her fair share of time toying with her goodies. Maybe she was a dude in a lesbian's body, she thought with a chuckle.
"I'm just trying it on now, Triss!" she called, doing so.
Really?
thought Trissa.
It's been, like, a few minutes already...but it's not really my place to point that out to customers.
"...Okay. Well...I'll be right here; just let me know if you need any help with anything!"
"Will do!"
Trissa sat outside the fitting room, frankly hoping Stella would like help with something. Symmetry examination, stubborn zipper, personal opinion...Trissa could come to assistance with any of these. Moreover, being helpful was embedded in her nature. She treasured the sensation. It was so rewarding. And she had the feeling a client such as Stella could increase her rewarding factor. The lass seemed different from most who turned up in her house of employ. She seemed gracious, outgoing, charming...and to make Trissa feel her job mattered. Most of the time, sad to say, her job felt thankless. Even a bit empty. But this was her source of income. Her means of carving out a living. She couldn't walk away from it, and also couldn't do anything to jeopardize it. And...yet...
She took a look back out to the store, and saw no one immediately near. She slowly let herself to her knees, leaned down, and peeked under the fitting room door. Through the shadow, she could make out Stella's bare feet. They shifted about as she moved, curling, wrinkling up her soles every so often. Gosh, they were nice, thought Trissa (wondering why she was admiring Stella's feet of all things and then deciding because it was all she could see of her). Nice enough to...
Above her left eyebrow cropped a bead of sweat, which turned straightaway into a column. Telling herself it was because she was hunched down like this and for no
other
reason, Trissa pushed back up. Meanwhile on the other side, Stella had just finished adorning her body with the yukata.
Oh
, it looked fantastic. Turning to see it from all angles, her smile grew, and would not go away. "Erm...ma'am? Er—sorry...sorry, Stella. I meant Stella."
Stella's facial expression altered dramatically. She made a motion with her hands as if squeezing or crushing something in them. She sighed, wishing there were some way to...to...
Gasp.
Her brain clicked. A
wonderful
idea sprang to mind.
Oh, how...how
wonder
ful! But...
Had she the guts to do it?
She undid the latch on the fitting room door and opened it. When Trissa saw her, she let out her own gasp.
"
Wow!
" she exclaimed. "You l—"
Stella abruptly
leered
at her. She took hold of Trissa's wrist, feistily pulled her inside, and re-shut the door.
