The Shopkeeper 2

(This is my very first submission to Literotica! Please be kind, but truthful if you leave a comment. Thank you!)

*************

This is a fantasy. A fantasy like no other. Please allow me to indulge your bulge.

Hi. My name is Brie. I'm a 5'3" strawberry blonde with measurements of 46C, 40, 48. Yes, I'm a big girl, and I'm what many might call "plump," but my husband seems to like all my curves, and honestly, THAT is all that matters.

I have trouble sleeping at night. My solution is to think up a story and live in that story. Become the story. I've got dialogue, and settings. "Real People" per se. It usually puts me to sleep after about 10 minutes. Thing is, I've gotten rather attached to this story, and I never seem to get past the first couple minutes. So, I'm going to expand my story by writing my fantasy. And I want you to come with me. Grab a drink and a towel, cause you're gonna get wet.

********

Chapter 1: The Career

I now work in a fancy boutique of high-end clothes named Heart of the Matter. A person such as myself would normally never get a job like this, but I was in desperate need of a job. I'm not what someone would call "stylish", as I don't wear the "in" clothes (as I don't have the luxury of buying said clothes, and even if I *did* have the luxury, many clothes off the rack rarely fit my build), but I do know what is in style, and I know what people like to wear at the office, at home, at a party, and just out and about! (I make do with what I have, so although my clothes aren't specifically stylish, I am clean and styled nicely.)

I was relentless when it came to applying at Heart of the Matter. I went in every other day after I had filled out the application and talked to the manager. After not hearing back for two weeks, I had gone in everyday to inquire. I wasn't pushy. I just REALLY needed a job, and I thought I would be perfect working there. After 4 weeks of having taken my application in, I was finally hired. Mrs. Thompkins hired me to be a seamstress. I was content with working in the back learning how to sew the made-to-order pieces together, and alternate pieces if they didn't fit quite right. I had to earn even that, though. When I applied, I knew nothing - not even how to sew on a button. But because I needed a job, it was YouTube to the rescue! I also had to submit at least 5 sewing samples every week of the first month to let the owner and manager know that I was indeed needing and wanting to work there. I didn't care. I finally could say I have a job in the upscale part of town, AND I had a trade that I could use and improve upon.

People in the back don't normally get seen except when someone comes in for alterations. We dress and look "nice", but looking nice to most of these people I akin to aristocrats, I thought was equivalent to looking like bums to the "regular Joe." But even knowing that, I get to interact with them. Yes, some are snobbish, but most only carry the air of snobbery until they are under the pin. They have a specific look and taste to what they wear, and Heart of the Matter caters specifically to them. Of course we allow all people of any "station" or class, ethnicity/race to come in and buy what we have to offer. Many don't care that we can alter what they buy in order to fit them specifically. They just like to say they came to us to get it. That's how "boujie" we are.

So, here I was, working in this beautiful boutique. Often, when I heard the soft chime of the door, I would take a peek out the thick curtain that leads to the front to see who had entered. I quickly learned that at least 12-15 ladies were regulars, and they all had "their" time of day that they would shop. It was as if the shop was all theirs because no one ever, and I mean EVER, came in when these ladies were here. Which isn't to say that people couldn't come in and shop when these ladies did, it's just that no one ever DID come in. I don't know if it was coincidence or not. It was just my observation. They were all kind, and all of us employed there went out of our way to make their shopping experience as pleasant as possible. We doted on them in a special way, but they never looked down their noses at us. For some reason, I never felt "below" them. I never felt like one of them, but they never once made me feel inferior.

I had worked three consistent months and apparently had shown great possibility to Mrs. Thompkins, the manager, so that I could also work up front with the customers as they shopped. I chalk it up to my personality. I'm not over-bubbly as to be annoying, but I do try to lift others up if they're having a difficult day. I want others to try to see the best in each situation, but I don't push my beliefs on others. I listen with a caring heart, and many people who have to stand still as they get pinned by me as I'm working on their garment, will usually open up. Since I proved I can listen to the customer, and can suggest a garment or two that I think they would like, I was promoted to also being able to work in the main sales floor, as well as being in the back. Getting a commission on sales as well as getting a seamstress's pay is very nice.

Now, just as a preface, I hadn't ever met the owner of the store before that day; I didn't know to treat her as the owner. I treated her as I had treated all the other ladies that I had shopped with and fitted: I treated her as if she were the Queen. After welcoming her into the shoppe and introducing myself, she gave me her name: Angela Monte. She asked to look at several different pantsuits, dresses, blouses, and jeans. I pulled them off the racks as she went around to say what she liked, and I even pulled some that I thought would complement her skin tone, though she never asked. I took all the items to our largest fitting room as she continued to shop and look around. When she was ready to get fitted, I helped her try on and fit several of the styles, noting where they would best be altered to fit her luscious body (though I NEVER said that to her face) and pinned where each garment would need to be taken in, and marked with fabric chalk where the garment would need to be further altered.

Angela - excuse me - Mrs. Monte was 5'10" tall with piercing brown eyes and medium-long dark brunette hair with flawless waves. She looked to be of a distant Asian descent, with a hint of Native American. Her beauty - her aura - was distracting, but I tried to keep my head about me and attend to her clothing needs. We spoke of many different things during her fitting, allowing me to get to know her better. She bought nearly every piece I'd suggested asking for the alterations to be completed in 10 days. I assured her they would be done with the utmost care, and would she like to be contacted if they were finished beforehand. Before I could complete my question, she patiently waved me off.

"No, don't worry about that," she commented. "I'll be here in ten days to pick them up. Thank you, Brie."

I nearly swooned and creamed my panties when she said my name. Her voice has a sweet raspy quality to it, and everything she says is sexy; but when she said my name, it took me by surprise, and turned me on SO much.

Gathering my wits about me, I wished her well on her travels, waiting for her to leave the boutique before taking the articles of clothing to the back and tagging them as hers. We had been taught that the customer shouldn't see your back when she (or he) is at the counter; assure them their purchases are as special as they are, and allow them to leave before going to the back.

Sasha, another young lady working in the back as a seamstress, stood gawking as I entered the back hallway where we kept the orders to be altered.

"Sasha, what's the matter?" I stopped and asked, concerned.

"Do- Do you know who that was that you just served?!" she asked excitedly.

"Sure! That was Mrs. Monte. She's a lovely lady," I said excitedly. "Bought nearly everything I brought out for her! I think that was my biggest sale ever!" I said while clapping my hands under the pile of clothes in my arms and doing a little jig.

"No, That... That was-" she stuttered.

"Sasha!" Mrs. Thompkins called roughly, interrupting Sasha's explanation, making Sasha jump and turn rapidly at the interruption. "Get over here now, and tend to Mrs. Berkley's care package! You know she wants that sent to her daughter ASAP, and it won't get to the post office without your help!"

"Yes, Mrs. Thompkins. I'm coming, but," Sasha said, turning back towards me and pointing towards the front door. She tried to finish what she was telling me, but was sent away with a firm "NOW!" from Mrs. Thompkins. Sasha scurried off looking perplexed and heartbroken. I felt badly for her, but no one goes against what Mrs. Thompkins says!

I shrugged the whole ordeal off, and went back to wondering about Mrs. Angela Monte, and squeezed my thighs together and did a couple of Kegels to hopefully alleviate the sensations swirling in my nether regions. She was so sophisticated. Seemed even more so than all the other women that came into the store. Maybe it was because I held a soft spot for the brown-eyed beauties of the world. My husband Bryce holds THE most beautiful brown eyes I've ever seen. Big doe eyes. Loving. Caring. Giving. It was as if I could see all that in Mrs. Monte's eyes, too.

Closing time was nearing, so I wouldn't be able to start on Mrs. Monte's clothes until the next day. I carefully folded and placed each piece in a stiff paper; making sure none of the pins would stick out through other parts of the garments, or through the paper. Then I lay them one by one in a large paper box, placed a sticker with her name on it, and signed it as my own.

"Mrs. Thompkins?" I called, looking around trying to find the wee woman. She was small - only 4'9". So, trying to find her either in the store or in the back rooms was nearly impossible. If she wanted, she could literally hide in the clothes racks, and none of us would be the wiser. Of course, I'm short, too, but this woman... She took the cake on all things small. At least to me.

"You need me?" She asked as she sneaked up behind me and jabbed me in the ribs. I yelped and jumped.

"Whoo! Girl, you scared me!" I chuckled, and gasped for breath, holding my hand over my chest. "Has anyone ever told you that you should work in a fun house, or a haunted house? You wouldn't even have to dress up. Just come up behind them and scare the bejesus out of them!"

"Huh! I never thought of that! I might do that this year for supplemental income!" she teased. "What did you need, Brie?"

"Oh, yeah," I breathed. "I just wanted to let you know that I'd placed Mrs. Monte's items in a box, and I'll start on them tomorrow since we only have a half hour now before we close. I'll go tidy up the sales room then clock out."

"Right. Good plan. Okay then! Have a pleasant evening. Don't let those little people scare you any more!" she teased.

"Mrs. Thompkins..." I chuckled. "You're so cute," I teased, as I slightly pinched her cheek. "I'll see you tomorrow."

She gave a sweet smile, and I answered in kind; went to tidy up the sales floor just as I'd said, and clocked out on the computer. Sasha came back into the store after having walked the block to the post office, and stood beside me at the other computer looking a bit deflated. Much different than what she was just a couple minutes ago.

"Is everything okay?" I asked her.

Sasha shrugged. "Yeah, I'm fine," she said defeatedly. "I just want to leave now."

I didn't know how to answer that. "Well, I'll walk you to your car, okay?" and walked out with her after I made sure Mrs. Thompkins would lock up the store.

Dusk was just falling, and the air was crisp with the smell of rain coming in. We quickly got to our cars and drove off toward our respective homes.

Nothing special happened over the next nine days. In between, I had three days off. The other days I was either working on Mrs. Monte's garments, or working to sell more garments. Then it hit me: I was working the sales floor a lot more that past week; more than I ever had before. I wasn't complaining, though. Sales ladies make commissions on what they sell, and more on top of that if they work on the alterations for the customer. Not all sales ladies are able to do the alterations, and not all ladies who do the altering work on the sales floor. There are only three - including myself - that work both sales and alterations. The other ladies try not to be jealous. I keep telling myself that they could do both if they tried, just like I did. Some like the back so they don't have interactions with customers, and some like the front so they don't have to do the alterations, but they still get jealous. Whatever. To each her own.

On the day I expected Mrs. Monte to come in, I made sure to dress as nicely as I could. I couldn't yet purchase any of the store's items, but I tried to put an ensemble together that came close to what the store might have sold. I put my blonde waist-length hair in a loose French braid falling over my left shoulder, and my makeup made me look natural. It was on point - if I do say so myself. I didn't have to clock in until 2 PM, so I really hoped she wouldn't come to the store until I got there.

About 20 minutes before closing, Mrs. Monte walked in with her head held high with confidence. She saw me and walked straight to me. The look in her eyes made me wet my panties a little bit. Hers was a look of primal urges; one that just screamed, "TAKE ME! FUCK ME!" I was having daydreams about making love to her right there on the showroom floor.

"Mrs. Monte, you're practically glowing!" I cooed. "Where did your adventures take you these past couple of days? Your skin is even more golden than last time I saw you, and your hair is shining like silken thread." Where was this coming from?! I mean, I had given compliments to people before, but I felt as if she brought out the poet in me.

"Oh, actually Brie, I stayed at home, but thank you for asking! I thought I would be going out of town, but I didn't have to. I stayed poolside most of the time unless it was raining." Her voice was sweet as honey, but still had that bit of a rasp to it. Sexy and tantalizing. She looked straight into my eyes as she talked to me, and I could feel my body quiver with sexual energy. I fought to keep myself and my thoughts together.

"Well, it sounds as if everything worked out for you. It looks as if it did, too." I smiled as I took the time to look over her body again, and let her know that I appreciated what I saw. "Would you like to try on your garments to make sure I did them correctly?"

"Why, yes! That sounds like a great idea. I don't think I've ever been asked to retry my clothes on. Thank you. Though I've never come away with a piece of clothing incorrectly altered, I'm glad you suggested it," she said.

She lovingly brushed my left cheek with the back of her hand, much like a loving mother would do to her child. The electricity that bolted through my body sent heat waves and cold chills straight to my pussy. My clit was on fire, and if she touched me again - anywhere - I was going to cum right then. I could smell my sex. I wondered if she could too.

I led Mrs. Monte to the fitting rooms, and chose the largest in the back; the same one that I had led her to ten days before. I'd like to think it was because just outside that fitting room's door was three large mirrors that allowed the customer to see themselves from many different angles. But my desire out-thought my brain this time. I wanted the largest fitting room so I could be with her as she tried on her clothes. This boutique wasn't shy about wanting to help the customer in and out of the clothes, basically because we didn't want the clothes to be ripped or stretched in unnatural ways as they're being fitted. So, before you go thinking it strange... it wasn't. The clients have come to accept us being in the fitting room. Some of them welcome it. Mrs. Monte welcomed me in.

"Brie?" Mrs. Thompkins called, shaking me from my daydreams.

I peeked out around the dressing room door, "Yes ma'am?" I answered back.

"The showroom is closed. I know you have a customer there, and that's fine, but I'm going to close up. You have a key to lock up, right?" she smiled and nodded her head, hoping that I did.

"Yes, ma'am. I'll lock up after I take care of Mrs. Monte." I smiled.

"Yes, that's great. Take great care of her. I will still lock the door so you won't have anyone entering while you're busy. Have a pleasant evening," she said to me. "Good night, Mrs. Monte!" Mrs. Thompkins called with her back to me as she walked out of the dressing room.

"Good night to you, Mrs. Thompkins," Mrs. Monte answered back and smiled and winked at me.

I handed Mrs. Monte a robe similar to what one might find at a posh hotel. "Mrs. Monte, as I'm sure you know, I'll be right back with your garments. If you would be so kind as to get undressed and put on this robe, I would be ever so grateful."

"Brie, I will, but I'll need your help. See, this dress zips up the back, and I cannot get it without getting all twisted up," she said in a mockingly meek tone as she weakly tries to grab the zipper pull.

"Oh- okay, sure!" I stammered. Was that too much enthusiasm? I think I should dial it down a bit.

She turned her back to me, and gently dropped her arms to hang beside her perfect hips.

Damn! I wish I were a man right now! I'd even want to have a strap-on! I'd love to get up behind her and lean her up against the wall and shove my... My nipples, my breasts, my clit, and my pussy were on fire as I thought of all the things I'd love to do to this sexy woman.

I got behind her as close as I dared. I smelled fresh citrus from her hair as I gently gathered it together and lightly caressed her neck as I set her hair to drape over her shoulder in front. I didn't want it to get caught in her zipper, you know. Her neck glowed with the tan she had recently gotten. I tried to keep my hands steady as I gently grabbed the top of the dress and the zipper pull to help the "invisible" zipper come down. My left hand kept the fabric together so the zipper wouldn't catch, as my right hand deftly slid the zipper down. I barely touched her skin, but when I did, it was as if she was on fire, and my fingers were ice. I had to do or say something to distract myself.

"Mrs. Monte, I love this dress! Was this one of ours?" My voice was a bit shaky, but I was holding it together as best as I could.

"Hmmm, I think so! I think I got it last year at the end of the season. I've been waiting a whole year to wear this, I think!" she explained. "It's a one-of-a-kind. I specifically asked for this type of material and this pattern. I didn't know it was going to be a zip-up though!"

"Well, my knowledge is still quite limited since I've only been here three months, but this fabric, though quite billowy, doesn't have much hold to it. To get the style and flair of this specific pattern with this fabric, it called for a zipper to basically keep the bodice right," I explained as I lightly slid my hands down the sides of the bodice to help her understand. (Riiiiiight... I'll just keep telling myself that.)

The zipper was finally undone. Oh, did I mention the zipper went clear to the top of her perfect ass? Yes, I got a glorious peek of the top of her crack, and a fleeting touch, too. I had to. Otherwise it would have caught the material inside the dress and snagged it. I couldn't let it do that to this one-of-a-kind piece, right?!

She turned to face me and let the dress fall. Her perfect, uncovered C cup breasts were smiling at me; the areolas enticing me to suck them. I looked. It wasn't a stolen look. It was a full-on I-have-to-see-your-tits-and-I-don't-care-if-you-see-me-looking moment, and I stood there for a couple extra seconds admiring them. If I had a dick, it would be sticking straight out. My clit and my own tits were on fire.