"There's so little of you left in there, isn't that right, good girl?" Vanessa was sure she didn't know what the Caucasian man with the graying hair and icy blue eyes was talking about, but he was a customer and it didn't pay to get argumentative with customers... especially when she worked on commission and a man wearing that kind of suit could easily drop ten thousand dollars on expensive furniture in a single visit. So she instead let out a simpering little giggle, the kind men like him never seemed to tire of, and twirled a ringlet of her curly blonde hair between her fingers as she led him through the showroom towards the four-poster beds he'd asked to see.
He continued his weird, incomprehensible conversation as they walked, forcing Vanessa to nod politely again and again at bizarre turns of phrase like, "Oh, yes, I can see it in those pretty hazel eyes. You've got just enough of your old self in there to construct a few justifications for everything I'm making you do, convincing yourself that it all still makes sense and you're not my dumb, ditzy little slave." It was all nonsense, of course--Vanessa wasn't anybody's slave, especially not a complete stranger who'd never even set foot inside the store before today. But arguing would only draw her into an entire conversation with a man who probably didn't take well to being contradicted, especially not by a mere employee. Better to simply give him another one of those bubbly little laughs he loved so much and bob her head up and down in vapid agreement. Rich men never got tired of that.
"But all that's just surface level," he continued, warming to his topic and self-evidently enjoying the sound of his own voice as they made their way past sofas and settees and through to the back of the showroom. "Scratch that surface, and we both know we'll find an obedience that goes all the way down to the very core. That's what makes this particular kind of brainwashing so very effective, isn't it? The Vanessa that would want to resist me doesn't even know what's happening to her--refuses to admit it even when I'm outright talking about it out loud--and the Vanessa that knows about it is my good girl and my willing ally. It actually makes her happy to help me erode the other Vanessa's resistance." Vanessa's smile became a little more genuine. She had to admit, she appreciated it when customers took the time to learn her name.
She brought her customer over to a bed that matched the description he gave her at the front of the store, a king-size four-poster canopy bed with a metal frame and thick privacy curtains on all sides. Vanessa slipped off her shoes and clambered onto the mattress to demonstrate its firmness, and he gave her an appreciative look that somehow made the warm glow of happiness inside her even stronger. "See what I mean?" he asked rhetorically, his gaze centered well below eye level in a way Vanessa pretended with surprising ease she didn't notice. "A few weeks ago you would have been wearing boring, respectable slacks, and now just look at you. You didn't even bother wearing panties to work today, Vanessa. I'm so very proud."
Vanessa didn't have the slightest clue what he meant--of course she was wearing panties, if she wasn't wearing panties she never would have dared to sit in this particular pose directly facing a customer the way she was--but she'd already decided that attempting to challenge him on this particular line of bewildering conversation was more trouble than it was worth. So instead she merely let out another tittering laugh and wiggled her hips suggestively. Fuck it. If this weirdo wanted to labor under the delusion that she was showing off her bare pussy to him, let him. She knew everything she was doing was perfectly normal and just another part of her daily job. Just like the skirts she'd always worn, just like her... grooming habits.... Vanessa wanted to be smooth and neat and tidy down there. And anyways, her customer couldn't even see it.
But he could certainly guess, apparently. "I even see you've been shaving down there the way I instructed you to!" he exclaimed, keeping his voice pitched just low and quiet enough to avoid letting it carry to the next aisle over where a young couple were shopping. "You really are coming along so nicely, Vanessa. Another month or so and I think your mind will simply crumble in on itself and leave you my totally obedient slave." And Vanessa thought she was going to escape retail hell someday and get a job as a DJ, but she'd learned to her regret that thinking a thing didn't make it so. This guy was barking up the wrong tree if he thought he was going to somehow hypnotize and brainwash Vanessa into obedience. She was so strong-willed she didn't even need to worry about it.
He walked around the bed, testing the curtains by drawing them until only the side facing Vanessa was still open, then came back around for another look at her. Vanessa found herself quietly glad she'd chosen this particular spot to climb onto the mattress--despite her stubborn conviction that she wasn't showing any more skin than usual, she knew there were always a few rich prudes wandering around the store looking for something to complain about. Better to have nothing in front of her but the handsome older customer and the store wall if she was going to be sitting here with her legs comfortably parted and her fingers amiably twirling her blonde ringlets again.
