Hi. I suppose the best way to start my story is by introducing myself. My name is Vera Wright and until recently I was the manager of an Abercrombie and Fitch store at the mall near where I used to live. Shit, that doesn't make any sense to you, does it? I guess I need to tell you that story so that you'll understand how I got to be where I am now.
It was about a month ago when a middle-aged woman came into my store with an obviously embarrassed younger woman in tow. I remember not really paying any attention to them; ask anyone in retail, customers are notoriously boring and typically rude and they don't really want you around anyway.† When the woman shouted, "Get over here," I lifted my eyes from the clothing I was returning to the racks from the dressing rooms to see what was happening. That was when I first noticed them, I mean really noticed them. The younger woman whose name turned out to be Kimberly Turner was wearing a tiny wisp of a dress that accentuated her lovely figure. I could see the swell of her breasts and the gentle slope of her ass. And that dress was short. It ended barely two inches from the apex of her sexy thighs. With how small the dress was, and the color bright enough to light Manhattan, Kim stood out.
I opened my mouth to say something, closed it, and opened my mouth again, ultimately doing a fairly good pantomime of a fish. I stepped from behind the clothes rack, took one step towards them and stopped. My eyes were wide and instead of approaching them, I merely stood there and watched the show. Not very mature and definitely not the actions of a manager, but I couldn't tear my eyes away or force myself to intervene.
"Try this on," the woman said holding a small denim skirt in her manicured hands. It was the first thing I remembered clearly, her hands were neat and tidy and painted in a perfect French Manicure.
Kim's hands were trembling as she took the skirt and spun to her right. I could tell she was looking for the dressing rooms that I had just vacated minutes before.
Both Kim and I were perplexed by that. I was certain that my face looked the same as Kim's. Well, except for the color maybe; mine was not burning. Kim spoke something then but it was so quiet, so subdued, that I could not hear it.
"Did I say go to the changing room? No. I said, try it on. Here. Now!"
I watched as Kim hung her head in defeat. It was obvious to me that the pretty young woman was not happy and did not want to obey. Still, I watched Kim pull the tiny skirt up her legs and fasten it around her waist over her fluorescent dress.† I stepped towards the register, hoping to get a better look as Kim pulled her dress free from the skirt, revealing how small the skirt truly was. I wondered how much longer the show would continue. In my mind I could see myself obeying the forceful woman, donning revealing clothing as Kim was being made to do. Would as many people look at me as were looking at the shame-faced and nearly tearful woman? I doubted it.
"Turn around and bend over."
The skirt, too short already, slid up her legs as she obeyed. The skirt rose higher, revealing the thin line of Kim's pussy to me and the other shoppers; it was apparent to all that Kim was not wearing panties. Kim's naked ass slid into view as she held her humiliating pose. I pondered taking her place and felt myself grow wet at the thought.
I watched Kim tremble when the other women spoke, "Spread." Her voice was hard; it was a tone that demanded obedience.
Around me, the shoppers had all stopped to watch the lurid display. When Kim had entered, conversations were happening; clothes were being taken from racks and put back and silence was a thing of imagination. Now, the only thing that could be heard was the milling of shoppers beyond the doors of the store as they continued their days oblivious of the show taking place just beyond the main hallway of the mall.
From the register, I watched the blushing woman inch her legs apart, her knees slipping outward. She remained bent at the waist and I watched fascinated and jealous as her pussy opened and became even more evident. I could see Kim's sex peeking from between her parted thighs and once again I longed to take her place. Would people stare at me as they were staring at the shamed teacher? I rubbed my thighs together, feeling the rise of a comfortable ache that would soon need sating.
Glancing around, I could see the customers still staring at the blushing woman bent with her legs spread wantonly. To my left, one of my co-workers, Tina Caldwell, stood with her mouth agape and her eyes wide. Like me, she definitely wore the expression of a fish. Behind her, wearing a bemused smile stood the third member of our shift, Michelle Hayden. She looked beautiful; she had the clearest blue eyes, the kind of eyes that men actually spoke to. Michelle... no, now is not the time to talk about Michelle. That will come soon enough.
"Stand up, you slut," the woman (Sharon was her name) said to Kim.
I have never seen anyone move as fast as Kim did as she stood and slammed her legs together. I watched as she lowered her dress and shimmied free of the skirt as Sharon had commanded.† Sharon grabbed some more clothes from the rack and after a quick conversation that made Kim's face flash with even more color, she ordered Kim to wait by the door. Now, the patrons started to move and speak and fragments of their conversations drifted to me. Words like "slut" and "whore" and "shameless", to me, all really said the same thing, "Did you see her? "
The woman approached me, her hands full of clothes. She was grinning; it was a look that seemed to be a combination of victory, hatred and power. I imagined the grin of a cat that had not only eaten one mouse, but also had a second struggling between its paws; that was the look that adorned Sharon's face.
"What was that?" I asked even though I wanted to ask so much more.
"She's a little show-off," Sharon said me as I rang up her purchase.† "She gets off on it and she finds it more exciting if she doesn't know what's going to happen. I'm just helping her out."
I knew it was a lie. The look on Kim's face more than proved that she was not there willingly and the look on Sharon's face was one of malice; there was no compassion there. She was not helping a friend. But, would she do the same for me? Would she help me be seen as she was helping Kimberly? My mind was racing. Uncertain if she'd agree, I handed Sharon a business card. "If you want, I am the weekday manager and I could use a mannequin." Did it sound as lame to Sharon as it did to me? I needed a way to get her back if she was going to help me. I raised my eyebrows as if to beg her to say yes.
Sharon looked at both sides of my card and said, "I think, Vera," she spoke my name for the first time, "we can work something out."
I didn't realize how tense I felt until Sharon agreed to come back. I exhaled, hoping it did not sound as loud to Sharon as it did to me. "Excellent," I gushed my words. I felt like a teenage boy feeling my first willing breast, "I look forward to it. I gave you a discount for the show."
Sharon chuckled at that, though I am not sure why. She asked for another card and when I gave it to her she wrote her name and number on it for me.† "Call me and we'll schedule something," Sharon said to me. She gathered the two bags of clothes and left the store with Kimberly Turner in tow.
Tina crossed the store and stood by my side. "What was that?" She asked me as Sharon and Kim disappeared into the mall.
I tucked the business card with Sharon's number on it into the pocket of my jeans. "I have no idea." I was lost in thought. It seemed to me that Kimberly was obeying Sharon against her will; her look and mannerisms were those of someone not there willingly. How had Sharon managed that? Would Sharon expose me to others as she was exposing Kim? Would Sharon help me be seen, make me as visible as she had made Kimberly?
I looked at Tina, "Cover for me." The rising need in my pussy was speaking to me now and I needed to answer the call. Not waiting for Tina to respond, I ducked into the back of the store and darted into the small employee bathroom. My jeans were unfastened even before I locked the door. I slipped my jeans down to my knees and shoved my hand into my panties. My fingers found my clit, hard and swollen. I rubbed it, pressed my fingers against it and with thoughts of being visible racing in my mind, I came. I bit my lower lip to suppress my moans. Shaking in post-orgasmic bliss and trembling with thoughts of Sharon, I pulled myself together and made my way back to work.
The rest of the afternoon, I found it hard to concentrate. Thoughts of Kim and Sharon and what Sharon would make me do were more than enough to keep my mind occupied. Both Tina and Michelle commented that I seemed distant but they were polite when I explained that my thoughts were elsewhere. If either of them suspected that my distraction was due to the display earlier they didn't say. It was nice that they noticed my distraction.
I finished my shift, clocked out and drove home. As I always do after work, I took a leisurely shower. Afterwards, standing before the full-length mirror I stared at myself, trying to see me as others saw me.† My mother was Hungarian and as such my skin had a darkness to it that made me seem tan all the time, even if I hadn't been to the beach in months. I am not very tall; barely five feet and I often wondered if my height amplified my feeling of invisibility. No, that's not true, my height had nothing to do with it; it was my childhood. Both my hair and eyes were brown and my nose was small and cute; to me I looked plain. I have nice breasts, I thought, not overly large, but not small either. My best feature, though, was my butt; round and firm, taut and smooth.
I made dinner and after watching a little bit of mindless television I went to bed. The ministrations of my favorite on screen characters could not distract me from the thoughts of Kim. She had taken everything Sharon had dished out without complaining and I was jealous of her for that. I wanted what she had and needed to find a way to make that happen. Lying in bed, Kim's humiliating display ran through across my thoughts incessantly. I wanted to join her; I wanted to be seen.
"Look at me, daddy." The memory returned with such fury that I drew in a surprised breath.
Look at me.
Sleep overtook me and dreams formed of memories danced behind my eyes. When I awoke, the sun barely born on that fresh day, my first thought was of Kim's display. I took a shower and pawed through my clothes. I would wear something revealing as Kim had done, something to make me stand out. I knew it wouldn't do any good; seldom could I force myself to be as naked as she had been and when I did, what came of it? Nothing. Nobody seemed to really notice me. Maybe I really was invisible.
Look at me.
I grabbed a tiny skirt. It was white and pleated and ended just below the swell of my ass. I slid it up my legs and smoothed the fabric over my butt. Looking at myself in the mirror I saw that the skirt was shorter than Kim's dress had been. Maybe I would be noticed wearing it. I found a T-shirt that read "Abercrombie's" and donned it. Advertising for the store was always acceptable. I looked younger than my twenty-three years in my short skirt and T-shirt and I made up my face to amplify my youth.
I drove to work, stopping at McDonald's for breakfast on my way. I ate in the car and arrived as Michelle was opening the register, preparing for the day.
"Nice outfit," she said.
I think she was being polite, but it was nice that she noticed. "Thank you," I said, my voice was barely a whisper. I spun around, flaring out my skirt and Michelle laughed.
"Even nicer." I remember the way she looked at me then. Her eyes were wide and a small smile was playing at the corner of her mouth. What was she thinking? Was she mocking me? I didn't think so, but truthfully I was not sure. When she spoke again, her voice was playful, "I like knowing you aren't wearing panties." She grinned and then looked at her wrist, "Time to open."
What did she mean by that? Was she hitting on me or was she simply toying? Her boyfriend had been in a couple of times, so I really did not think she was trying to pique my interest in her, so she had to be playing with me. If she hadn't sound so friendly, I'd have thought that she was being cruel. Still, her tone had been kind. Shit! Why was my mind so addled?†
The day progressed and only twice was my attire mentioned. Both times it was Michelle that commented. The first was right before lunch. Michelle came up behind me and whispered in my left ear, her voice was full of heat, "My panties are wet, are yours?" She knew I wasn't wearing any, of course, so what did that question mean? The second time was as Michelle was ending her shift; I still had an hour left in mine. Michelle pulled me into the back by grabbing my hand in hers. Her hand was soft and warm but the strength in her tug still took me by surprise. She spun me around and pressed my back against the cold concrete wall. She leaned into me; the delicious smell of her perfume was so heavy I could almost taste it. She raised my hands and placed a small pile of fabric in them. Her panties and as she had stated, they were wet. "I want to see you in these." And with that she kissed me, full on the lips, her tongue prying against my closed mouth.
She stepped back, tilted her head and took in the look of shock, confusion and uncertainty that creased my face. She laughed then, a warm sound and the smile that crossed her face was so genuine that I was almost convinced she was not being mean. I nodded at her, acknowledging that I would wear her panties.
"Monday," she said.
I nodded again, trembling and confused.
Michelle kissed me again, quick and firm. She spun away and as quickly as the conversation had begun it was over. Conversation? Hell, I hadn't said a damn thing.
And that was my workday. I wore two tiny pieces of clothing, no panties and no bra and the only person to comment was Michelle. Nobody else seemed to even notice that my nipples were visible through my T-shirt, nor did anyone realize how close my naked pussy was to being seen. But, no, I would have to be seen as a whole before pieces of me would be noticed.
I went home, alone as always, to my small, one bedroom apartment. I put Michelle's panties on my nightstand as I slipped off my skirt and shirt. They had dried out during my last hour of the day. They were small, a light-blue thong with lace trim adorning the waistband. I looked at them, picturing Michelle removing them before slipping her jeans back on. Not realizing what I was doing, I picked them up and pulled them to my face. I sniffed them, pulling in the combined smell of Michelle's sex and her floral perfume. What was I doing? I shook my head, returned the panties to the nightstand and then took a shower, washing the day away.
Saturday arrived and work was dull. Michelle had the weekend off and I had to admit I wanted to see her and I wanted to hear what she had to say and damn it, I wanted to smell her, too.† What was wrong with me that the first time someone notices me I can't get them out of my head? Was I that desperate to be seen by someone that I would give myself to them as soon as they saw me? Was a kind word, not forced and a firm kiss enough to capture me? I realized that it probably was. How weak did that make me?
Nobody noticed me during the day.
Sharon surprised me by dropping by that afternoon. I hadn't really expected to see her again. I had been in the back folding clothes when Diane, one of the two high-school students who worked weekends approached me and told me that a woman was asking for me. Diane left me to finish folding the shirt I was working on. I set it down and went into the store. There, out by the door stood Sharon. I approached her, "Hi. Are you here to take me up on my offer?" I said while thinking, ĎAre you here to help me be seen?' And what about Michelle?
Sharon nodded her agreement. "Yes, I am. How about Monday nights; it seems my slave has Monday nights free and would love to be your mannequin."
I remember how she paused before she said slave as if she was deciding if she should reveal the nature of their relationship to me. Thinking back, I realize I already knew. "Wonderful," I said, not doing a good job of keeping the excitement out of my voice, "what time?"
"Great. I'll see you both then."
We shook hands then. Sharon with her perfectly manicured fingernails and me with my body shaking. Sharon pulled her hand free, flashed a smile like she had just won a battle and left me standing there wondering about Monday when Michelle worked with me and about what pose I'd put Kim in. No, that's not true, I knew exactly what I'd be doing with Kim, I had imagined myself doing the exact same thing.
Sunday came and went with me never leaving my apartment. I never claimed to be exciting.
Monday turned out to be an interesting day.
I woke early, as I always do. I don't know why and have never given any thought as to why I am a morning person. Some people don't do well when they first get up; they need their coffee or time to unwind from a hard night of sleeping. Me, as soon as the alarm goes off, I am up and ready to face my day. Most days, today included, I am up before the alarm. Today, I was anxious with good reason. One, Kimberly was going to live one of my fantasies. And, two, I was going to wear Michelle's panties and see what she thought of that. Truthfully, I can't tell you which one I was looking forward to the most.
I showered and made up my face for the day. I looked through my closet, trying to find the perfect outfit for Michelle. I decided on tight jeans, ones that I thought made my ass look great. I grabbed Michelle's panties from my nightstand where they had sat unwashed since I had sniffed them on Friday. I sniffed them again; frowning that they were much less fragrant. With a grin, I slid them up my legs, feeling them cup my pussy and part the folds of my ass. I donned the jeans, running my hand over them with satisfaction. Dressed from the waist down, I grabbed a gray blouse that buttoned up the front. I donned the blouse, buttoned the buttons, but left the top three undone so that just a hint of cleavage was visible. I truly wanted Michelle to like what she would see.
Look at me.
I left for work early knowing that Michelle would already be there as she started an hour before I did. She was at the register when I walked in. She looked beautiful; she was wearing a knee-length floral skirt with a white blouse through which I could see the outline of her bra. She glanced at me, smiled without showing her teeth, and then glanced at the steel chain door that blocked the store from the mall proper. With the grate down, we had the store to ourselves. She crossed over to me and without speaking; she just tilted her head and raised her eyebrows with her smile never leaving her face, she asked if I was wearing her panties.
Swallowing heavily, afraid my voice was going to crack, I simply nodded. How many conversations were we going to have without me speaking?
I trembled at her words; they nearly mirrored my own. I looked into her amazing eyes and gripped the button that held my jeans together. Not thinking, oblivious to my surroundings, I unfastened the pants and slid them down my legs to my knees, revealing her panties caressing me, enveloping me, hugging me.
Michelle said nothing, she just stepped forward and as she had done Friday afternoon, she kissed me. Her hands cupped my face and pulled me to her. Her lips, soft and inviting, pressed against mine. Her tongue slid against my lips and I felt my mouth open to her probing. My knees unlocked and I shook slightly before regaining my posture. Our tongues met and I moaned softly.
Michelle broke our kiss and whispered in my ear, "Give me my panties."
I nodded again. Speak, why can't I speak? I stepped free of my jeans, then I gripped the hem of the blue fabric with my fingers and slid Michelle's panties down my legs. I stepped out of them and held them to her. I stammered as I spoke, as I finally spoke, "Here."
Michelle, her smile never faltering, took them from me. She held them open and I could only watch in surprise as she stepped into them and slid them up her legs. She adjusted them around her hips and then raised her skirt to show them to me. "Thank you," she said. I smiled at her. She glanced at her watch and said, "Well, it's time to open the store." I knew she was playing with me and I knew, just knew that it wasn't cruel or malicious. I was not sure why she was playing with me, was it a game for her, too? I didn't really want to know, just as long as she kept playing.
Our shift began and before I knew it Michelle's day was over. Her landlord had called and explained how he had found a broken window at her apartment and so Michelle had to leave to take care of her home. I hate to admit it, but I was disappointed that she was leaving so soon. She left quickly, not paying any attention to me and I found myself saddened by that. Michelle had an emergency and I felt rejected. What was wrong with me? I knew the answer to that one: I was invisible.
After lunch we were short staffed. It was just after four when I remember that Sharon would be bringing Kim to work as a mannequin today. A smile crossed my lips, the first one since Michelle had donned her panties this morning. I finally had something to look forward to.† I knew just the pose I'd put her in; I'd imagined myself in the same position before.
It was ten minutes past six when I spotted them. Sharon was dressed in a smart business suit but it was Kim that I noticed. Her white blouse was simple and her skirt was so short, so revealing, that even from across the store I could see the creases of Kim's ass; her skirt barely covered her pussy as she stood and I'd wager that it would be visible if she were walking.† Kim's face was red and her eyes were puffy and I had to wonder if she'd been crying.† Could she not see how exciting it was to be visible to others?
I approached the couple. "Hi. I am so happy to see you." I shook Sharon's hand. Kim's head remained bowed.
Sharon snapped out her orders to me and threats to Kimberly. The woman was strong willed and confident and from her tone and mannerisms she knew she would be obeyed. "You have my number, Vera," she said to me. She turned then, looked at Kim with her eyes full of malice and said, "Don't make her use it." She spun away from Kim and I and left the store; leaving Kim to live out my fantasies. Make me do this; I wanted to shout out to Sharon.
I led Kim to the back of the store where boxes of merchandise sat waiting to be checked in and put on display. "Take off your clothes and put them in there," I commanded, pointing to the employee bathroom. It didn't feel right ordering this scared young woman around. Her eyes were wide and she seemed agitated and stressed. Sharon had something on her, the comment about her being homeless confirmed that, but she was not fleeing. Did she have to do this and did she want to? I exhaled unhappily, thought about Michelle and then just shook my head. I watched as Kim removed her blouse, pulling it over her head. She unfastened her skirt and stepped free from the black cloth. Kim carried them into the bathroom and returned, naked save for her shoes
"Wait here," I commanded. I did not want to be the forceful one. Oh well, if I could not live out my fantasy first hand, I'd enjoy it from afar. I darted into the store, found the two shirts I had set behind the counter in anticipation of this encounter and then made my way back to the scared and blushing woman cowering with her hands doing a poor job of concealing her nude body. I looked at her and wondered if she was looking at me.
Handing Kim the shirts I said, "You'll hold one in each hand." I instructed her not to drop them, no need getting the store's merchandise dirty, and then when she nodded her understanding I instructed her to follow me into the store. I stepped into the store and paused. Turning back I said, "Hurry, it's not busy now."
That got her moving. She followed me; head bowed and face red through the store. She was naked and scared, but she was moving. She inched across the store, ducking behind racks, trying to keep her body hid and I found it amusing. Kim made her way to me as I stood at the bay window that served as the main display for the store. I pointed to the chair I had placed in the window, facing the mall, and said to the obviously embarrassed woman, "Sit in the chair and hold the two shirts in your hands, one in each. Look at one of the shirts and don't move. People walking by will think you're a mannequin." Next to the chair was a large sign I had drawn that read "Decisions, Decisions."
I could feel how wet I was as I watched Kim stare at the seat where I wished I was sitting wearing what I wanted to be wearing. How strange am I? She's naked and humiliated and I would gladly take her place if it meant a chance to be seen. I let her know she'd be okay if she remained still and then with my pussy commanding me as I was ruling Kim, I threatened her. With my words, Kim climbed into the chair, clamped her knees together, and held the shirts out as if she was contemplating which to wear. I clenched my own thighs as my pussy hummed with need at Kim's display.
I turned my back on the trembling woman and raced into the employee bathroom. I couldn't take another second; I could feel my pulse beating in my pussy. Shutting the door, my hand slipped my jeans over my hips and within moments, my sex rubbing against my stroking fingers, I came, biting my lower lip to stifle the noise. I could picture Kim sitting naked in the window, struggling to remain still as countless shoppers walked by oblivious to her distress. I wondered what it would be like to be there, in her place. Would my legs be clamped together or would I part them? I knew the answer to that question; my legs would be spread. Or, better still, what if the decision was not mine to make? That thought fueled a second orgasm. My whole body was alive, my mouth was dry and goose bumps covered my arms.
Arousal fueled my actions. I grabbed my phone and dialed Sharon's number. She answered curtly on the second ring. Not thinking, acting strictly on desire with my fingers still toying with my wet and swollen sex, I hurriedly made my request.
"Are you sure?"
I heard the confusion in Sharon's voice. Was I sure? No? Yes? Was I being rational? What would Michelle think? All these questions raced through my mind but still I whispered, "Yes."
Her words were slow and I wondered if she'd turn me down. "We'll talk about it after I take Kimmie home." Her words were vague and I just knew she'd turn me down. Why did taking risks always seem to end poorly? Sharon hung up the phone and I straightened my clothing.
I entered the store shaking and sated and made my way to Kim. I told her she was doing well even if her face was burning bright enough to lead Santa's mythical sleigh. I continued working, distracted by thoughts of Kim and Sharon and Michelle. Too much was happening for me to take it all in; I was confused by it all.
Sharon appeared right before the mall closed. I was shaking as she approached me. What would she say? Was she going to reject me or help me to be seen; lift the curse of invisibility that seemed to haunt me for years? She looked at me; her eyes seeming to smile and told me to get Kim dressed. Disappointment flashed across my face. I pulled Kim from her window display and took her back to her clothes. She got dressed; visibly relieved to be wearing even the tiny outfit she wore.
With Kim standing next to Sharon, her head hung in shame, Sharon spoke to me. "I'll be back in an hour. You'll be here, right?"
She made it sound like a question, but I was certain that it was an order. I nodded.
An hour later, with the mall closed and only few people left behind to clean the stores and stock the shelves for the next day, Sharon returned. Her face was a blank sheet; I could read nothing of what she was thinking. Still, she was here. That had to count for something. When she spoke, her voice held that same tone of confidence.† "This will be the last time I ask this. Are you sure?"
All my life. "I am."
Sharon explained her concerns, that I would disobey her if she didn't have something on me that I would not want to be revealed, some secret that I kept guarded. I was shocked that she thought she would need something like that. Didn't she see how badly I needed this? Still, I capitulated. "Okay."
"Call me Miss Reed."
"Okay, Miss Reed," I said, "I already know what it'll be; I just have to get it for you."
"Then I'll see you tomorrow. All of you."
I smiled at her words, catching their meaning. She had accepted my offer.
That night, I didn't sleep.