Trying It for Size
Shopping with James was, in itself, a stimulating activity. It was one of the many things that I adored about his company. That, and his tendency toward the extreme when it came to sex. I never knew what he’d suggest, nor when. It kept me on the edge of the most extraordinary sense of arousal and anticipation, because James could make even shopping for the mundane an adventure in discovery. Why, just the way he’d stand back in the market and watch me roll and squeeze a lemon in my hand, testing it for ripeness, made me feel dirty and bad, like he knew what I was thinking, even before I did.
When I saw him stalking into my office that Tuesday evening, something tripped inside me. He had that look on his face.
I was just closing my .docs for the day and he strode over to my desk, put his hands on its surface and leaned over to give me the briefest of kisses on the mouth. Passers-by on their way out of the building stared through the glass walls of my office in blatant curiosity. He had that effect on people. He was sexy as hell and oozed confidence. I looked up into his flashing green eyes. Anticipation raced in my blood. I stood up, walked round to him and ran my fingers through his spiky, blonde tipped hair.
“Come on, hot legs, let’s hit the town,” he said, arresting me with one strong arm around my waist.
“I thought we were going to do that later on?” I’d agreed to help him select some new seating for his Cambridge web design studio.
“I decided that I like the way those eager little sales assistants look at you when you are dressed for business.” He glanced down at my outfit. Yeah, so I dressed to provoke. Low cut, high on the thigh, heels you could pivot on. I enjoyed the powerful diva look. I also got way more business than all the other accountants on the floor. Hell, if you’ve got it, flaunt it, that was my motto.
James took me to a large office furniture outlet that was off the beaten track on the outskirts of the town. As he had predicted, an eager sales assistant popped up immediately when we strolled through the door. The lad was no more than 19 years old and the prospect of getting a sale so near the end of the day obviously pleased him no end. While he inquired after our needs, he gave me an appreciative once over, one hand tugging nervously at his slim-line tie, the other jangling the keys in his pocket. I glanced at James to see his reaction. A half smile played around his mouth; he rested his hands in the pockets of his elegant pants, looking on, completely unfazed.
“We’re after some relaxed and comfortable office seating, something suitable for a customer reception area.” The assistant nodded and directed us down through the large showroom, where matching sets of furnishings were grouped into different styles and materials.
“Just shout when you see something you like.”
“How about that one,” James said; nodding his head over to a Scandinavian-looking conglomeration, all smooth lines and interlocking pieces.
“Yes, that looks good,” I agreed.
The assistant lurched off toward the mocked-up office. As we followed, James slid one hand down and squeezed my bottom through my skirt as we walked. I shot him an enquiring glance, but couldn’t help smiling.
“This is an extremely popular and flexible design,” the sales assistant commented, as he launched into a plethora of technical specifications and features worthy of the next NASA schedule. He began to move the furniture around, demonstrating how easily the chair units could be used, either butted up against one another or stand alone, and how the square inset units functioned as side tables or corner pieces to augment the chairs and turn them into a sofa. It was a practiced routine and his sales patter was award winning.
The footstool add-on had caught my eye. A simple, solid roll design on a sturdy plinth, and strong enough to use as a seat if necessary — so the sales assistant had commented as he shifted it into place in front of a chair. It was a smart and efficient accessory, well designed. In fact… it just looked as if it was begging to be tried out for versatility. As the thought permeated thorough my mind, I sensed that James was watching me. I glanced over. He flickered his eyebrows at me, suggestively. Damn..How did he always know when my mind wandered into the deviant zone?
That’s when I suddenly remembered. In a rather wine-sozzled moment the week before, I had confessed to him that whenever I entered someone’s home or workspace, I speculated over the erotic potential of their furnishings. Even a simple office chair could provoke the question as to what position it might be used in. Had James brought me here to the furniture store, on purpose, because of that?
As if in reply to my silent question, he suddenly grinned at me. I heard bells ringing; I felt like I’d been caught red-handed. What an absolute devil he was, setting me up like that! I managed to smile back, as nonchalantly as I could. That’s when I realized the bell was a phone ringing, at the other end of the shop.
“I’m sorry, folks, I’m the only one here and I’m going to have to get that,” the sales assistant said, and gave a reluctant shrug.
“Go ahead,” replied James. “We can amuse ourselves while we wait.” I knew that tone. What was he up to? The sales assistant hadn’t noticed and was jogging off towards the front desk. As soon as he had picked up the phone, James hooked the toe of one polished boot around the leg of the footstool, and pulled it over towards him, so that it was stationed behind a tall cabinet and hidden from passers-by on the street.
“Why don’t you try it,” he suggested, nodding down at the item that had caught my attention.
He put his head on one side, eyeing it up.
“It has to be about hip height… if you knelt.” The surface of my skin raced with sensation, my body burning up with arousal. I swallowed. I couldn’t quite believe it; he wanted me to try it out in the shop, now?
“I want to see you kneeling over it, that is what you were thinking wasn’t it, you naughty girl?”
My imagining hadn’t even got into that much detail, but now that he mentioned it… yes, it did look like the perfect playtime accessory.
“You know me so well, darling,” I dared to reply, laughing nervously. I glanced down through the shop. The front door was still open but no one else had come in. The sales assistant was busy with his call. It sounded like a delivery problem. He was apologising, big time, and trying to sort out a new time to suit the caller. Well, it couldn’t hurt just to try it out, could it?
I knelt down on the floor where James had indicated, and rested my upper body right over the footstool. Oh, yes. It was just the right height. My hips were angled so that my pubis was squashed, my bottom pushed up and out behind me. It felt deliciously naughty.
“Very nice. Now pull your skirt up, so that I can look at that gorgeous derriÃ¨re of yours.”
I glanced back at him. Surely he couldn’t mean it? Not here, not in the shop.
But I could see that he was already hard; his cock was bulging inside his pants. I looked up at his face and when I saw the look in his eyes, it triggered something inside me. Yeah, I decided, I wanted to show him all right. Right now. I reached back and shimmied the tight skirt up and over my hips, slowly revealing my buttocks and the black lace G-string I was wearing.
“Oh, yes,” he murmured and his hand was moving against the front of his pants, up and down the length of his cock. My sex clenched. I wanted him there, badly. We would have to hurry home soon so that we could see this through.
I turned away and stared ahead to keep focused. I could just make out the pavement and cars racing past on the street outside, between the legs of the cabinet we were sheltered behind.
“We’ve got time, but it’ll have to be quick, ” James said, kneeling behind me and pulling my G-string down to my knees in one swift maneuver. I heard his zipper. He couldn’t be serious? Not the whole deal?
He chuckled low.
“It was your idea, lady. It was written all over your face, you horny little vixen.”
“It wasn’t… I mean, we can’t, not here…” And then his hands were roving down the inside of my thighs and I was melting into submission.
I gasped when I felt the shaft of his erection hard between my thighs. He ran the swollen head back and forth between the folds of my sex, pushing me open and massaging my clit. I squirmed and whimpered, my fingers gripping at the legs of the stool. He increased the pressure and speed, one hand on my hip to steady himself. I began to shudder; the sensation was so intense. He continued the assault on my clit. My body arched; my hips bucked up. He pinned my body down with his hands on my shoulders.
“We can’t do this,” I whispered, pleading.
“We can,” he replied. “We’ve got time, don’t worry I’m listening out for him.” With that, he eased the head of his cock inside me. My hips were angled to take him in, my flesh melting onto the hard, hot shaft.
“Christ, you’re wet,” he muttered. I hummed my pleasure aloud, my head falling back as my back arched. His hands were on my waist, pushing up my skirt and holding me locked into place over the stool. I suddenly caught sight of someone on the street pausing by the window, as if to come in. I couldn’t bare the thought of having to stop now. No, this was too good to stop; I was so close to coming.
“Faster,” I urged him, below my breath. “Please do it faster.”
The figure moved on past the shop. I closed my eyes and rode the rhythm, thanking our lucky stars for giving us just another moment to enjoy this. James put one hand on the small of my back, and my clit was pressed right onto the surface of the stool; he rolled his hips forward, and drove home to the hilt. Sensation exploded through my groin.
“Hush, noisy girl.” He reached forward with one hand and covered my mouth to keep me quiet. I blushed feverishly. He’d told me before that I sometimes raised the rafters when I came. I was oblivious to it under normal circumstances, but now we were doing it in public, in a shop of all places! I bit my lip, trying to quell the instinctive urge to give loud, vocal approval.
The containment of his hand on my mouth felt good; it felt deviant. He was thrusting hard and fast, deep inside me. My sex was on fire, my clit pounding from his earlier assault and the restless movement against the stool. My core was flooding, I was wired with tension. His fingers got tighter on my mouth as his cock arched inside me. I felt myself give and my sex suddenly spasmed in release. A stream of liquid heat ran down my thigh. James gave me one last feel of his length, his rigid cock roaring up inside me and jerking vigorously as he came.
I gasped when he freed my mouth, panting as I put my hands on the stool for balance and looked back at him. He grabbed my hair and held me while he kissed my mouth.
“Hurry, you’ve got about 10 seconds and you’ve lost a shoe,” he commented.
I suddenly realised the distant voice on the phone had ended. James was standing up, I heard his zipper. I scrambled to my feet, dragging my G-string up and pulling my skirt into position. I managed to get my foot back in the shoe just as the sales assistant turned the corner.
“I’m so sorry to have kept you…”
His voice trailed off as he caught sight of me straightening my skirt. I smiled at him and did up the button on my shirt that had popped open.
“No problem, we were enjoying ourselves,” James replied.
The sales assistant looked from one of us to the other. I felt my cheeks burning. James grinned, and then winked at the poor lad, who was clearly wondering what he had missed. I glanced away and tried to ignore the trickle of liquid running down the inside of my thighs.
“I’ll phone through the rest of my order tomorrow, but we’d like to take this item with us now.” James said, as he handed over his credit card and scooped up the footstool under his arm. “We were trying this one for size,” he had the cheek to add. “And I have to say…” He winked at me. “It fits real good.”