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What am I thinking? I don't know him at all. But something about him draws me in, making me want to please him, to make him happy. I shake my head to clear these thoughts. "Oh, today I just felt like reading something that’s easily digested," I stammer. "Don't worry. I just didn't take you as someone who’d read something so… ” he pauses, taking a long look at the front cover, before continuing, "erotic." I flush, embarrassed and a bit insulted. "Why is that exactly?” I say testily. "Didn't mean to offend. You just look," again with the pause, thinking before speaking, "deep." That instantly soothes my feelings. "Well, you know, even deep people sometimes need to tickle some other senses.” I smile at him. "That's so true." He smiles back. "May I sit?" He indicates the other armchair in the nook. "Yes, sure, go right ahead there, Sir." I cringe at my choice of words. Sir? Why the fuck did I call him that? What is it about this man? He has me all flustered, totally making me lose. In fact, one thing that made her physical advances so arousing was that she did not look at what her hands were doing, confident that they had reached their target and were attaining their mission objectives. My pupils were dilated, my nostrils were flared, my face was flushed and my breathing was coming in short shallow pants – it was clear from this, and my sopping pussy, that I was more than ready to be plucked and fucked. The blonde woman smiled in satisfaction, and said quietly:‘I want you, come with me – I know where we can go, there’ll be no problem.’She gave me the black dress to hold, took my other hand in one of hers, and quickly led me through the clothing department to the fitting-rooms in the far corner. They are surprisingly spacious, almost as if they had been designed to allow you to take a friend in with you. Best of all, they did not need to be regulated by a member of staff, because all of the merchandise was electronically security-tagged, and there were also.
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