Shoe Store

You can see me peeking through a crack in the door. You try not to smile, looking forward into the mirror. You apply just a little bit of perfume to your neck; you decide to leave open the top two buttons on your white blouse. Your hands move from your hips to your knees, smoothing the skirt that ends just above your knees.

You spin, wondering if anyone will notice that you're not wearing panties. We've done the dare before; you go without underwear, and we go out. Sitting in a theatre, standing in line, sitting in the car. It's just a fun little sexy game we share between the two of us.

You wonder where our field trip will take us today.

"Are you ready, yet?" you hear me call.

"You should know," you laugh. "You were watching me all along."

"Guilty as charged," I call out.

You open the bedroom door and walk down the hall. I am halfway down the stairs, trying to act like I hadn't been spying.

"So what are we doing today?" you ask, noticing my eyes are examining you from head to toe.

"Well," I say. "I do need to go the mall and run and errand or two."

The mall. Didn't sound too sexy or exciting. The thought of going store to store didn't make you feel very sexy. It wasn't like sitting in a darkened movie theatre and allowing your legs to part after the lights went down. It wasn't like going out to dinner, shifting your skirt as we sat down over a gourmet meal — and wondered what was to come next.

This was the mall. Possibly the most boring place in the world.

"If you have to run errands, aren't I a bit overdressed?" you ask.

I just smile and lead you down the stairs to the front door. We walk out to our car, and then make the 10-minute drive to the mall. It's our lucky day, we find a parking spot close to the west entrance and walk in.

The next hour is as bad as you would have imagined. I look at televisions ("these will be half off on Boxing Day!") and then go to the comic shop. "You're such a geek," you smile, but there's nothing about being surrounded by people going through shell drawers of Action Comics back issues that make you feel sexy.

"OK, then," I say. I can feel the rage building up in you. "Let's now focus on something I've been meaning to get you."

I lead you past the food court, up the escalator to a lonely shoe shop far away from the main entrance. You have gone by it a few times; it feels wrong being in the mall. It's a store that sells designer shoes with price points way out of the range of most mall shoppers.

"Just got a royalty cheque this week," I smile. I remember you telling me about a pair of boots you wanted?

"But they're over a thousand bucks," you say. But, at the same time, your heart skips a beat because, hell, if Christmas comes early, why turn it down?

The shop was empty, save for a clerk with a trimmed, neat moustache and a smart matching black jacket and pants. The watch he wore on his left wrist showed off that, while there weren't a lot of shoppers at the store, the commissions he earned from the few customers who did come in left him fairly well off.

"Well, well, hello," he said. "Welcome. Anything I can do for you today?"

"You've been saying you want a pair of new boots, didn't you?" I ask.

You nod. Your eyes are already trained on a pair of high, black boots that zip up the side. Leather. Next to them are a pair in burnt red.

"Would you like to try those on, ma'am," says the clerk.

"She's an odd half size," I say. "Sometimes we have to play around to get the size that's right."

The clerk motions us to sit down on the chairs in the middle of the store. You sit down and slip off your shoes. I refuse, saying I'm fine standing. And, as the clerk goes to get the black foot measurement tool from just underneath the till, you remember: I'm not wearing panties.

The clerk kneels down in front of you, and you close your legs tightly.

"I need you to put your foot here," he says, sliding the measurement tool under your left foot. You gingerly move your foot forward, trying to place it in the device, but at the same time keeping your knees closed. The awkwardness of it all has you sliding down in the chair.

Finally, he gently places his hand around your ankle and guides it into place. "Perfect. I think I have the size," he says.

"Make sure you get a few sizes for her to try on," I say. I smile wide, but my teeth aren't showing. You know I am holding in a laugh.

As the clerk disappears into the storeroom, you growl, "having fun?"

"Yes."

"You planned this, didn't you?"

"Well... maybe..."

We're interrupted by the clerk walking back onto the sales floor, a pile of boxes cradles in his arms. He lays them down in front of you.

"I will help you try them on," he says.

"You don't need to!" you blurt out, panicked. "I mean, I can do it myself!"

"Ma'am, we pride ourselves on having the finest customer service in the city," he says as he opens the lid on the first box, and produces a black boot.

He guides your foot into the opening and pulls the boot around your calf. Your legs part slightly as he does up the zipper. Wait, did he pause for a second? Was he lost in thought. Did he see... no!

You unconsciously tug at the bottom of your skirt, which only brings more attention to your legs.

"Not bad," he says. "But maybe a bit big."

He then slowly unzips the boot and gently lifts up your leg. He gently pulls the boot off. Did his hand linger on your leg for an extra second? Once again, he paused. Oh my god, he must notice. You look over at me and think... "damn you."

The clerk has produced another boot, a cherry red one. This one is much shorter, with a strap that goes around the ankle. To put it on properly, he takes your leg and places it in his lap. You try and pull down your skirt, but it's no use. You feel him doing up the strap, oh so slowly, but you can see he's not looking at what he's doing. He's looking straight ahead.

"Excuse me," I clear my throat. "Um, I can't help but notice that you have to be looking, sorry, I don't know if there's a polite way to say it... but are you looking at my wife's pussy?"

Oh my. The fact that I just blurted it out, in the store... your leg whips out of the clerk's lap and you close your legs. The clerk's face is red and he's averted his gaze; he's now looking across the shop at a rack of brown dress shoes.

"Sir," he says to me... "Of course not. Why would you think that?"

I nod. "Very well. I think my wife would like to try on some more shoes."

The clerk undoes the strap on the boot and takes that off. His fingers tremble. You can feel it. He produces another high black boot, and this one also zips up.

"I can do it," you say.

"No," I say. "Best customer service in the mall."

Once again, he guides your foot into the boot, and zips it up slowly. His hands shake. It's clear he can't help himself, he looks again.

"Aha!" I say, pointing at him. "You are looking at my wife's pussy!"

"N-n-n-n-o," he says.

"Liar!" I say. "Tell me, do you like looking at her pussy?"

"S-s-s-s-s-ir," he says.

"Tell me."

The clerk doesn't move. You feel your heart racing. You can't believe what's coming out of my mouth.

"Have a good look and tell me," you say to the clerk.

The clerk's hands are shaking. He puts one hand on each of your knees and slowly guides your knees apart. You feel a cool rush of air. You know that this stranger, this boy, is looking at you.

"Honey," I say to you. "I'd like you to tell me something. Do you like him looking at your pussy?"

And then it comes through your lips. One simple word.

"Yes."

Your heart is racing. The clerk's hands wander down from your knees to your calves, and then back again.

"I am going to ask another question," I say to the clerk. "Young man, would you like... I don't know really a polite way to ask... but would you, do you, want to fuck my wife?"

The clerk exhales deeply. You feel a tingling sensation between your legs as I ask the question. You know the answer before he says it. But you have to hear it. You need to hear it.

"Yes."

"Yes, what?" I say.

"Yes, I want to fuck your wife."

I walk over to you and take you by the hand and lead you out of the chair and through a door that says EMPLOYEES ONLY. "So, are you coming or what?" I say to the clerk, and he follows.

We are in a storeroom. We are surrounded by shelves filled with shoeboxes.

I unbutton your skirt and let it fall to the floor.

FIN