By Portersky and KysaQ
About a decade ago, KysaQ published a handful of stories on the web with a distinctive voice and clever setups.
"Shopping with Debby" is one tale that has weathered the changes in sensibilities since then, but left us hanging all these years
in the middle of the action.
With KysaQ's permission and collaboration, under joint authorship and copyright, we present to you a a completed version which adds a satisfying ending for everyone involved.
We hope you enjoy this resurrection and reconstruction.
--Portersky and KysaQ
Part 1. For Play
Next to the coffee shop was a small store that was just opening for business called rather unamusingly "The Beach Shake". It was open but only partly stocked and there was obviously still some building work going on to fit it out. In the window, there was a selection of bright beach clothing and other bits and pieces. I sat and drank some coffee while Debby went to browse.
"I'll come and join you in fifteen minutes or so," I said and sat back as she left.
I'd taken Debby with me that day while I met with Bob Jackson, one of my clients who has offices in a small town up the coast. I've worked with him for quite some time, and I have come to realize that with Debby there assisting he seems to have far more time to look over new ideas than when I'm alone. Not only that, but there seems to be a direct correlation between the cut of her dress and the deals we strike. In short, she is a very useful asset. Today I had her wear a top that was both tight and showed a spectacular amount of Debby's cleavage. She has a slim figure and is blessed with ample breasts. Bob couldn't keep his eyes off her for more than a few seconds at a time, the deal went very well indeed.
I was now waiting for Bob to drop by after the morning's meeting to sign the papers. I'd given him an hour or so to sort things out and had suggested that we get together at the coffee shop where I regularly stop when I'm up here. It sits overlooking the bays stretching up the coast with its quaint shaded wooden verandas, and always gets me thinking about relocating away from the grime and noise of the city's suburbs.
When Bob arrives, I see him scanning around, clearly looking for Debby, or, really, specifically Debby's breasts, and there is visible disappointment when he doesn't see them--I mean her. We exchange pleasantries once again and get the details of the new orders sorted out.
"And where is the lovely Debby?" asks Bob. "Hope you've not lost her!"
"Next door in that new beach shop," I reply casually. "You know how these 20-year-old girls love to try on clothes. She's probably buying a new bikini or something." I let the image of Debby examining herself in a mirror wearing a swimsuit linger in Bob's mind for a minute and can almost see the sweat start to bead on his brow as he imagines those perfect breasts, large, yet youthfully buoyant, popping out of some sheer bikini top.
"I'm just about to go next door to see how she is getting on." I start to stand as I say this. "Care to join me for a moment I'm sure Debby would like to say goodbye?"
Bob almost springs from his seat in his enthusiasm.
"Err, why not." he replies. "It's a new shop apparently."
We walk into the shop next door to find Debby wandering between a few rails of clothes, T shirts and the like, she shows little enthusiasm. The shop is otherwise empty apart from a young guy at the back sorting through a pile of boxes.
"Find anything you want honey?" I say as she turns to see us.
"Not really."
"There must be something, you've been in here long enough. I was just telling Bob here you'd be buying all sorts of stuff." I glance around at the half finished displays. "What you need is a bit of assistance."
I start running through the rails and indiscriminately pulling things off them. Bob's eyes I notice are once again riveted on Debby's breasts, straining as they are to burst out of her top. She's wearing a bra that pushes her already considerable charms up and out and they seem to have rendered poor Bob motionless. Debby is conscious of his stares and throughout the morning has become visibly uncomfortable with her outfit. She is rather self-conscious of her figure as it is and was practically in tears this morning when I had told her that she needed to wear that particularly revealing top. She has the most gorgeous figure, one that most girls would die for, yet is uncomfortable with the attention she gets as a result.
Finally, I see what I am looking for, a tiny bikini, the sort of thing only just fits into the category of clothing at all. It's little more than a few pieces of bright red material connected by thin strings.
"Hey, how about this?" I hold the minuscule item up.
"I don't think so." Debby is quick to reply, appalled at the very notion of wearing something that small. "Can we get going?" She's whiny. I hate it when she's whiny; well, not really.
"I think you should at least try it on." I exclaim. "You'd look great."
"Please, I don't want to." Debby says quietly.
"What do you think Bob?"
"Errrrm, well yes. I, ermmmm, well..."
"That's settled then, give it a go." I interrupt to put Bob out of his stammering misery.
"It won't fit or anything." Debby whimpers. "Please can we just go?"
"You'll do as you're told. Now stop the silly stuff and give it a try. If it isn't right, then we'll go. Simple."
I hand Debby the scrap of bikini and usher her towards the back of the shop where a young guy is still unpacking boxes of stock that are piled high behind the counter.
"Do you need to get away or can you stay to give your opinion?" I ask Bob, although even before he stammers his assent, I know that it would take a team of wild horses to drag him out of the shop at that point. Short of stripping her naked it would be hard to imagine her in more revealing attire than the suit I've chosen.
Little does Bob know, what you wish for sometimes does come true.
"Do you have a changing room?" I ask the young guy shuffling the boxes.
Looking up he seems momentarily confused. "Well yes but I'm afraid things aren't quite ready. We ain't even got the door on yet." He glances round the shop. " People been usin' the office back there but I got a whole load of new stuff jus' come in and can't even get through the door right now."
"It's quiet in here, would you mind if Debby here sneaks behind one of your clothing rails or somewhere, just to try something on?"
The guy, who wears a tag giving his name as Karl, looks across at Debby. Registering her in an instant his eyes light up as he realizes the implications of what I have suggested.
"No problem; you go right ahead." He gestures with his arm as if to give us the freedom of the shop.
I glance around and although there are plenty of rails it isn't exactly private.
"What about over there. I point to a long clothing rail in the corner. That should do you. If you're quick no one will see a thing."
Debby stands in shocked silence, as does Bob, but for entirely different reasons.
"No way. I can't put this on over there."
