The Last Room on the Right

[Erotic Short Story by Keri Fields]

“That’s a fuck-me dress if I ever saw one.”

Her voice startled me, coming from so close behind me when I thought I was alone.  I spun to face her and nearly threw the lacy green dress on the floor, as if that would hide it.  As if she hadn’t caught me blatantly ogling it.

“You’re Raven, right?” she asked, smiling.  “I’m Myra.”

“I know,” I answered before I could stop myself.  What a ridiculous thing to say.  I blushed instantly but she only smiled wider.  Did she know that I’d been watching her?  I hadn’t meant to.  It’s just that ever since she’d gotten switched to the Woman’s Department last month, I haven’t been able to keep my eyes off of her.  She had apparently been working downstairs in Housewares for the past year and I’d never even noticed her until she’d swished her hips right into my section.  Who knew a department store could be big enough to hide people?

“Is that for you?” Myra asked.

“Huh?”

“The fuck-me dress.  Is that for you?”

“Oh, hell no,” I replied a little too loudly, which made me blush again.  I cursed my tattle tale cheeks, but luckily, I managed to do that silently.

Myra was still smiling.  At least I hadn’t frightened her off.  Yet.

“I mean,” I tried for a normal voice.  “I was just, you know, putting it back.  Straightening up and stuff.  Cleaning, or … whatever.”

Smooth.

“Really?” Myra asked, stepping closer to me.  “Because I saw you looking at it yesterday, too.”

“You did?”

“Mm-hmm,” she nodded.  She took another step towards me, and was now so close that I could smell her perfume, cool and breezy with a trace of mint, and it set me off balance.  I tried to take a step back, but twisted my foot as I set it down.  When I stumbled, I dropped the dress.

“Oh,” I said in surprise as I bent to the floor to retrieve it, realizing too late that by squatting I had inadvertently forced my skirt up my thighs to a NSFW height.

Myra bent, too, squatting down so that her eyes were level with mine.  She leaned her left knee against the inside of my right knee, pushing it out slightly.

“Oh,” I repeated softly.

“It would look good on you,” she said.

I blinked, thinking about her knee and her perfume, unsure what she was saying.  There was a heat spreading out from my knee, seeping slowly into my frozen body.  My eyes followed, transfixed, as her hand brushed over the green lace of the dress crumpled on the floor.  Her fingers dipped into the folds and raveled into it, lifting it from the ground.  She moved the dress toward me, and I shivered as the lace traced along my exposed thigh.

“You should try it on.”

“Oh,” I said, shaking my head when I noticed I was becoming a broken record.  “No.  I mean, I couldn’t.”

“Sure you could, Raven,” she said, lifting the dress to my face and lightly touching the back of her fingers to my cheek.  “I like the contrast of the emerald green against your creamy skin.  It would look good on you.”

I was pretty sure my skin was currently anything but creamy.  My face probably could have camouflaged itself with a fire engine right about now.

I stood abruptly, trying to break the spell she seemed to have over me.  My brain was feeling cloudy and I vaguely remembered that I was supposed to be working.

Myra stood too and I almost stepped back.  But I didn’t.

I didn’t really want to break the spell.

So when she offered me the dress again, I hesitated, but I took it.

“Try it on,” she said.  “In the West Wing.”

That was what we called the west dressing rooms.  They were smaller than the main ones that were located between the Woman’s Department and the Teens, and they were so close to the Men’s Department that sometimes people weren’t sure who was supposed to actually use them.  So few people actually ventured inside.  And since they were rarely occupied by customers, the more rebellious staff sometimes lingered in there, claiming they were gathering discarded garments, but usually they were just goofing off on their phones.  A few people had been caught by Mr. Deever, who was the most anal of the supervisors and sometimes went on rants about people napping on the job.

But Mr. Deever wasn’t working today.

In fact, most people were in the break room eating their lunches.  Would anyone even miss us?

Was I even seriously considering what I thought she was suggesting?

I found that I was staring at the dress in my hand and breathing a little fast.

“The last room on the right,” Myra said, and I looked up into her eyes that were glinting and bright.  “Put on the dress.  Leave the door unlocked.”

She turned and walked away, giving me one last smile over her shoulder as she rounded a corner of the walkway and disappeared behind a display of mannequins.

After staring for a minute at the spot where she had disappeared, I looked around for the first time.  My heart was racing.  I realized someone could have been standing two feet from me and I wouldn’t have even noticed.  I’d been lost in Myra’s gaze.

But flirting with someone at work?  Flirting?  Hell, that had been foreplay.  I’d never done anything like that before.  What if someone heard us?  Or saw us?  And why did that thought make the fire in my core spark and spread?

I was kind of scared that I would get in trouble.  But I was more scared that if I passed up this opportunity, that I wouldn’t be brave enough to try for another.

I headed for the West Wing.

It was quiet in that part of the store.  I passed a single wandering customer, but no other employees.  I wondered where Myra was.  I wanted to see her.  To feel her.

I walked faster.

Just after allowing my eyes to dart all around, I slipped into the hallway of the west dressing rooms, quickly but quietly and nearly floating as I made my way to the last room on the right.  I paused; the rooms were silent but for the dim florescent bulbs humming overhead.  I took a deep breath and pushed the door open with the dress clutched tightly to me.  I closed the door and had to fight the instinct to lock it.

Last chance to change your mind, Raven.

I shed my clothes like they were on fire.  Kicking my shoes into the corner and piling my skirt and shirt on top of them, I turned to the mirror.  Should I leave my bra on?  No, not with the low cut of this dress.  Off it went.

I pulled the lacy dress over my head and down, shivering at the silky caress of the layer of lining that flattened against my skin under the lace.  The dress came down to a scalloped edge that hugged my mid-thighs.  The top had a deep V that ended inches below my chest and clung to my breasts like a second skin.  A thin layer of cool rayon was pressed against my nipples by the stretchy but tight-fitting lace of the halter top.  There was side boob and cleavage readily available for the eyes, and my boobs were slightly bolstered by the tight triangles of the emerald top that drifted up to my shoulders and disappeared within my golden highlighted red hair.  I looked a bit like a leprechaun.  Or a hooker.

But my tits certainly looked fabulous.  Very alert.  I could clearly see my nipples trying to push their way through.  It was tantalizing.  I wondered what Myra would think of the dress, but then was suddenly afraid that she would change her mind.  What if she didn’t show up?

What if she did?

There was a flood of warmth that began between my hips and worked its way through me, pulling my nipples painfully tight.  I gasped.  If just the thought of Myra was doing this to me, what would happen when she actually touched me?

That thought didn’t dissipate the warmth.

I glanced to my reflection again.  Those pokey nipples kept drawing my eyes and I stepped closer to the mirror to try and see if they were visible through both the slip lining and the lace.  Not quite.  But if I moved the lining aside . . .

I edged the lining off of my breasts, pushing it to each side so that it framed my chest, but moved the lace back into place.  It had the look of racy lingerie, the dark lace clinging to my skin just rough enough to activate every nerve with the slightest movement of my body, with the delicious bubble gum pink of my nipples peeking through at the tips.

My tits didn’t just look fabulous.  They looked fucking awesome.

I trailed my fingertips over my nipples, shuddering as I felt the alternate of warm flesh and silky lace.  A little moan developed deep in my throat.  I closed my eyes and dragged my fingers again.  The moaning got louder.

Then I realized that I wasn’t the only one in the room.

I spun to face the door, my heart bursting with fear that I’d been discovered.

It was Myra, purring with eyes alight.  She was smiling wickedly.  I was gasping for air, but even though I now knew I had no reason to be frightened, the quickened heartbeat did nothing for calming my arousal.  The sight of Myra left me panting and forced out a little gleek into my panties.

I didn’t have time to be embarrassed.  Myra advanced, closing and locking the door behind her without taking her eyes off of me.  She grabbed my face in her hands and kissed me roughly.  But it was only rough for a few seconds.  Then she pulled back just enough so that her lips were only brushing mine.  I closed my eyes, but even the darkness seemed fuzzy.  I felt myself leaning in to her, searching for more.

She laughed lightly and, taking my hand, led me the few steps to the nearby wall of the small dressing room.  She moved my arms up over my head and I felt the bar that was attached to the wall above me, the one that people hang their clothes on.

“Don’t let go,” she said.

My heart was still racing, and I wanted to grab her and make her kiss me again, but I was also afraid that she would stop touching me if I didn’t stay where she put me.  And I didn’t want that.  So I settled my back against the cold laminate wall and grasped tightly to the bar above my head.  I closed my eyes again to better focus on her hands as they ran over my body, exploring the lace.

She pushed up the bottom of the dress to my waist.  She took her time slowly running her fingers back and forth just under the top elastic of my panties, then pulled them all the way down to the floor as I lifted one leg at a time to help her remove them.

Then Myra stood and kissed my eager mouth, her warm fingers massaging themselves into my ass.  I felt like I was melting into her and started to move my hands to wrap her in closer, but she gently moved my arms back into place before taking her mouth lower.

She grasped onto my breast with her warm wet mouth and I had to bite my lip to keep from crying out.  The feel of her soft tongue working over the rough lace was unreal.  I trembled beneath her mouth, and when she took over that nipple with her nimble fingers to move her mouth to other breast, my knees buckled.  But I held tight to the bar, squeezing my lips shut to try and swallow my moans.

When I could barely hold myself up and my body had started to jerk, Myra moved down further still.  I felt her hands wrap my hips and her lips on my thighs as a cool draft left the wet lace over my breasts tingling.  I couldn’t hold the moans in anymore and I hoped no one walked into the West Wing, because I was getting louder by the second.

Myra’s tongue dipped into my pussy and I nearly fell on top of her.  The strain of my leg muscles from holding myself up only served to tighten my core, bringing me even closer to the edge.  As her mouth played over my cunt and inside it, I shook.  And as her warm tongue found my clit, circling and sucking, there was an explosion of light behind my eyelids.  My skin liquefied and my muscles clenched and I fell down a deep hole of sweat and mint and lace.

As the world slowly cleared around me and my vision and breathing focused again, I found myself practically perched on Myra’s shoulders, clinging to her.  She smiled up at me and helped me steady myself so she could stand.

I was dizzy.  When she kissed me and I tasted myself on her lips, I felt as though I would completely collapse.  And I wanted to take her down to the floor with me.

“We should get back to work,” she whispered.

I mumbled something that I intended to sound like an argument.

“Me, too,” Myra smiled.  “Same time tomorrow?”

This time my mumbling sounded more acquiescent.

She pushed away from me, unlocking the door and stepping through.  I didn’t want to let her go, but I was too weak to even reach out and grab her.

She turned back to me.

“I was right.  That dress looks awesome on you,” her eyes were brighter than ever.  “I can’t wait to pick one out for you tomorrow.”

And with a wink, she was gone.

***

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Kisses ~ Keri

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