Chapter 01 Shopping Is A Bitch

Carla Johnson-Marks shuffled in her high-heeled shoes. Her heavy shopping bags where, for now, crowded around her feet, giving her aching hands a rest. She smoothed down the creases in her above the knee, pastel pink pencil skirt, and unbuttoned her smart, matching jacket. She poked out her bottom lip and blew cool air across her flushed face. Shopping was a bitch, especially on this water-poor planet, and especially when the mall air-con was playing up.

The travellator started to speak, warning Carla that she would have to walk for herself some more. She sighed, grasped the handles of all her bags and toddled off the walkway aiming for her favourite coffee bar. She slumped in a chair near the window and waited for the server.

The servers had come a long way, technologically, in the last ten years, but the shiny metal faces and the whirring motors still made Carla a little uneasy. "You're usual, Mrs Johnson-Marks?" came the rather pleasant male voice.

"Yes," she squinted at the name badge on the upper left of the bulky, mechanical body, "Henry."

"Very good, madam." Henry said, his caterpillar tracks spinning him in an almost perfect one-eighty to trundle off for a large cappuccino. She knew that the server would have already logged the request with the coffee machine, but she was still always amazed at the speed with which her coffee was brought back to her.

She lounged back in the comfortable seat, inhaled deeply the rich aroma of the coffee. She took a deep draught and closed her eyes. Flipping off her shoes, she wriggled her hot toes, then stretched them out. There was an audible crack from her left foot, and Carla nearly spilled her coffee.

A young man just across from Carla was staring. "Still go it." She thought to herself, loosening the top button of her white blouse. Then she realised, by his smirk, that what he was looking at was the moustache of cappuccino foam on her upper lip. She wiped it off, and flicked her long hair as she made a deliberate turn away from the young man.

As she placed her coffee back on the table, she noticed the young man glance her way again. This time no smirk. She creased her brow in puzzlement, but as she looked down she could see that, from his vantage point, he would have a fairly clear view of her ample cleavage, framed in the pretty white lace bra. She sat back, a naughty thought leaping to the front of her brain. She stood, slowly, took off her smart jacket, and went to the lady's room. Once there she slipped off her bra, in that 'without taking your top off' way, then ran her white lacey thong down her stocking clad thighs. "Shame I'm not wearing a garter belt today." She smiled to herself.

Back at her seat, she ordered another coffee, and slipped her underwear into one of the shopping bags. The young man was still there. "Young?" thought Carla, "I'm only 32, he must be at least 27!" Where had this weird focus on youth started, she mused, then remembered her plan. She unbuttoned another button on her blouse, and bent forward over the table. She peeped down, to make sure that her large pink nipple was visible, then briefly up at the boy. His eyes had widened, and his mouth hung open a little. Was that the hint of a bulge in his loose-fitting jogging shorts?

Carla sat back, pretending that she hadn't noticed the man's gaze. She shuffled in her chair, deliberately making the short skirt ride higher up her thighs. She covered a smile as she saw a definite twitch in the jogging shorts across the way. The bulge was visible now, and the young man had slid a hand under his high table to rest on what must be the head of his now engorged cock.

Carla took another sip of her second cappuccino, and crossed her legs. This pushed the short skirt even higher, and exposed the top of her hold-ups. The man slowly, carefully pulled the leg of his shorts upward, and Carla nearly choked as the bright purple head of his cock emerged from its dark hiding place.

The young man started to massage the head of his penis under the table, looking straight at Carla's folded legs. A breeze from the door wafted against her arse and pussy, and she realised that from the man's vantage point there was probably a fair amount of exposed pussy. She was glad she had shaved today before leaving the house.

She shifted angle again, uncrossing her legs, and sitting with them slightly apart. There was no doubt now that the man had full, unhindered view of her damp, shaved pussy. She placed her coffee cup down on the table, with another elaborate, breast exposing movement, then leaned back, letting her right-hand trail down her body to rest mere inches from her exposed cunt. The thought of men masturbating over her turned her on, and now she had one, his hand rubbing firmly up and down his half-exposed cock.

She touched her throbbing clitoris with her index finger, swirling it around, making the small pink bead stand out, glistening in the half-light. The man pulled his shorts leg aside with one hand, and grasped his veiny shaft in the other; pulling back and forth as he stared at Carla's moist pussy. A small drop of fluid appeared at the one-eye of his cock head, and the movement of his foreskin over and back spread it into a fine, shiny film.

Carla looked around. No one else was paying attention. She got bolder. In dived a finger, pulling forth a glob of creamy liquid from within her quivering cunt. Her nipples were clearly visible through her white blouse now, not only poking the material forward, but the large dark circles of her areola could be seen clearly through the flimsy, white material.

The young man straightened his shorts over his hard-on as best he could, and came to sit at the free chair at Carla's table. He moved forward, releasing his rigid tool once more, and started to beat it hard. He peered at Carla's wet slit as she widened it and then dived a finger in, then rolled her fingers around her swollen clit. It was too much for the young man, and he stifled a groan, his face tensing as his cock spurted shot after shot of cum onto Carla's stocking clad thighs. Some even reached as far as her glistening labia, and she rubbed it into her own, creamy juices, as a wave of ecstasy gripped her, her pussy contracting wildly, juice spurting onto the wooden floor.

The young man smiled, a little embarrassed, straightened his shorts, and hurriedly left the coffee shop. Carla, too, straightened her clothes, rebuttoned her blouse, and sipped the last remnants of her now cold cappuccino. She sighed, poked her bottom lip out and blew her straying fringe away from her sweat beaded forehead. She collected up her bags and set off for the teleporter and home.

Before long she was entering the small, cylindrical teleporter tube. She dialled in the co-ordinates of the tele-bay nearest home; a whole solar system away. She took a deep breath, and pressed the button. The whirring sound came, then the violent flash of lights, then the uneasy tingling sensation. The lights went out, and the cylinder walls showed different symbols to the ones she had just been viewing. It always surprised her how fast the journeys were.

Then the lights went out.

"Great!" Carla muttered, pulling on the emergency door release. She felt for her bags, but they were not there. "For fuck's sake!" she spat through gritted teeth.