It was the first Saturday of April and I was dozing on the sofa watching daytime Sports TV when Mum and Dad arrived home from a day shopping in town.
"Guess what?" Dad grinned as he playfully shook me from my half-sleep. "I've arranged an interview on Monday; for a Summer job for you!"
"You've done WHAT?" I growled as the enormity of the sentence hit home.
"Dad has organised an interview for you with Nick at Nicholas Shoes". Mum repeated Dad's life changing sentence as she changed TV channels.
"Oh Dad......you know.....oh shit." I grumbled as I realised that I wouldn't be able to doss around watching TV and hanging out with my pals playing tennis, going to the gym and drinking lots of cold beer as I waited to go to University in September. I also needed to get a girlfriend as I was constantly horny and had started wanking twice a day.
"Watch your language...my boy." Dad hypocritically chastised me. "Nick is expecting you at 10 sharp. Mum will get you out of bed bright and early; so you can get showered and shaved and remember to dress smartly."
As arranged; on Monday morning I unwillingly made my way into town for the interview dressed in my best trousers, white shirt and a smart green v-neck pullover. Nicholas Ladies Shoes was an upmarket shoe boutique that Dad claimed catered for 'Footballers Wives and Gangsters Molls'; carefully forgetting that my Mum also bought all of her shoes there. It was tucked away in the financial district and the owner, Nick, was quite a cool guy that I'd known all of my life.
The interview was quite laid back with Nick appearing more concerned about my time keeping than experience or trustworthiness. After two cups of coffee we shook hands on the deal and agreed that I would start work the following morning. We then chatted about music and football.
Eventually he asked what my Mum thought about me working in his shop.
"Not much, I guess." I shrugged, "it looks like it was Dad's idea." Nick smiled and looked away.
By lunchtime on the Tuesday I realised that I could have had a lot worse jobs. I was expected to dust and clean, answer the phone and unpack any deliveries that arrived. I was only to serve customers if Nick was busy. His choice of music was quite good too – very soulful and jazzy; because he had been a scooter riding Mod 'back in the day'. The shop got quite busy on the Friday and Saturday and I eventually served a couple of the 'more mature' ladies when Nick was serving the younger more glamorous ones.
Nick certainly knew his customers and greeted most with a hug and a kiss then a query about something in their lives or whether the item that they'd previously bought was still in use. I suggested that he must have a photographic memory but he replied that it was just years of practice and good customer relations to make everyone feel special.
Nothing very exciting happened until the following Wednesday afternoon when an attractive, smartly dressed woman about my mothers' age came into the shop. Nick greeted her with a customary kiss on the cheek and had a brief chat with her but excused himself as he had to go to the bank before it closed; leaving me to help her try on some knee-high boots. I dutifully brought her the three styles that she'd selected with a couple of extra larger sizes for her to try on.
"Can you help me with this zip please?" The lady asked.
"Of course I can." I replied as I nonchalantly slid the fitting stool next to her feet and sat on it. She instantly placed the sole of the shoe on the plinth and turned her knee outwards to allow me access to the zip. My eyes nearly popped out of my head as I pulled the tight zip up her calf as I had an unobstructed view of her stocking tops and lacy white knickers up her dress. I desperately tried to stay calm as she rolled her leg from side to side admiring her boot.
"It's a bit tight. Can I try those on now please?" She sighed as she pointed to a snakeskin pair.
"Of course." I replied as I took a boot out of the box.
"Well?" She grinned at me as she wiggled her foot. "Are you going to take this one off for me?"
"Oops." I blushed, "Sorry." Then held her ankle and pulled the zip down; getting another eyeful of her grey stocking tops and a definite crease in the centre of her knickers.
She carried on like this for nearly ten minutes, trying each pair on twice, until she finally selected a black patent pair with three inch heels.
I was nearly too frightened to stand up in case she saw the stiffy filling the front of my trousers.
I neatly turned away so my back was facing her and scurried to the till to complete the purchase. I was so nervous I made a couple of mistakes as I took her credit card details. I checked her name – Dr. Donna K Babb.
"I'm very sorry Dr. Babb; but I'm new and still learning." I mumbled an apology as I swiped the card for a second time and handed her the receipt.
"Call me Donna," the woman chuckled and thanked me before giving me a saucy wink as she left the shop.
I still had a hard on as I tidied the boots away and it was still semi stiff an hour later, as I served two more women who were wearing jeans until Nick eventually finally appeared from the bank. I didn't mention what had happened when he asked about the sales.
I had plenty more flashes of knickers and g-strings over the next few days as women bent over wearing hipster jeans or upskirt views as they tried on boots and shoes wearing skirts or dresses. Plus there were lots of women who 'accidentally' let me see down their blouses or dresses so that I got an eyeful of cleavage or the occasional nipple.
Nick eventually caught me looking up a woman's skirt one day as I fitted her with some beautiful shoes while he was talking to the woman's husband. When the sale was completed and the couple had left the shop I began apologizing but he only laughed and told me that it was 'a perk of the job'. From then on we compared notes on the different types of underwear that we saw – it was a right laugh.
Occasionally Nick would take 'old friends' into the office for a coffee. It didn't take Einstein to work out what they were really doing.
Usually it would be when I was unloading deliveries or busy with other customers but one day I had to go into the back stockroom for some shoes and I took the opportunity to sneak a peek through the office door. Wahay! Nick was sitting on the desk with his trousers around his ankle and a woman whom I'd served the previous week was rubbing her tits across his cock then dipped her head to kiss his bell-end. I knew I couldn't stay long as my customer was waiting; but this was too good to miss. She looked up at my boss then opened her mouth to swallow his cock. I got an instant hard on; especially when he grabbed the back of her head as he slid off the desk to force his cock down her throat making her gurgle.
I was blushing when I returned to my customer and told her that I'd had to climb a ladder and was out of breath.
Another lady arrived as I finished the sale so I didn't get the opportunity to see any more in the office. They eventually walked back into the shop as innocent as possible. They said their goodbyes and Nick just asked if I'd sold anything in his absence.
The following day something 'interesting' happened. In the middle of the morning a petite Asian woman came into the shop. Without resorting to stereotypes she didn't look like our kind of customer. We certainly had plenty of female Asian customers but this woman looked a tad untidy with thick unkempt hair and her clothes were a little bit 'High Street' and 'well worn.' She asked to try on a pair of boots that retailed at nearly £400. It wasn't my place to judge so I got the required size and stood back. Without sitting down she tried the left boot on then changed position like a Crane to try the other on. I was impressed at her agility. She liked them but wanted a smaller size; trying these on while standing on one leg too. The perv in me was alerted because her skirt rode up and I got a good look at her slim but muscular thighs; but no flash of her knickers but noted that she was wearing cheap tights.
"Can you put these away for me until Friday?" She asked. I nodded and took her details then reluctantly placed the box in the kitchen. Mrs. Syal thanked me profusely as she left the shop. I never expected to see her again.
