Summer Job in a sex shop
Fiona's heart thumped as the bell jingled, announcing her arrival at the unassuming store front. The sun was a blurred orb in the hazy afternoon sky, casting a warm glow on the pavement. She checked the address again, 423 Main Street, the neon "Adult Novelties" sign flickering above her. She took a deep breath, steeling herself. It wasn't exactly her dream job, but it was a job.
Her eyes scanned the dusty window display: a rainbow of vibrators, a mannequin modelling a leather corset, and a few novelty items that made her blush. A flyer in the corner caught her eye, "Looking for a unique summer gig? Flexible hours, great pay." The promise had drawn her in, and here she was.
The door creaked open, revealing a narrow aisle lined with shelves that stretched to the ceiling, each packed with mysterious boxes and packets. The air smelled faintly of rubber and incense. Fiona stepped inside, her trainers squeaking on the linoleum floor. The shop was quieter than she'd expected for a weekday afternoon, the only sound the occasional buzz from a display of toys in the back.
Behind the counter, a woman with a sharp bob and thick, red-framed glasses looked up from her paperwork. "You must be Fiona," she said with a knowing smile. "I'm Ms. Hartwell, the manager." Her voice was like a cool breeze, a stark contrast to the sultry purrs of the ads Fiona had heard about places like this. "Your interview is at two sharp. I'm a stickler for punctuality."
Fiona nodded, feeling a mix of relief and dread. She'd never stepped foot in a sex shop before, let alone worked in one. The walls were adorned with posters of half-dressed models, their smiles too wide, too perfect. The shelves whispered secrets she didn't dare imagine.
Ms. Hartwell led her to a cramped back room, the walls lined with cardboard boxes and a single chair in the centre. "So, you're looking for some summer work," she began, her tone professional despite the surroundings. "What do you know about our products?"
Fiona's cheeks flushed. "Well, I've... uh, I've read some articles." It was a lie. She'd only ever bought a pack of glow-in-the-dark condoms from a gas station, and even that had been a nerve-wracking experience.
Ms. Hartwell's eyes narrowed, assessing. "You're going to need more than that, dear. This isn't just about selling merchandise. It's about understanding what our customers need. Sometimes, that means getting a bit... hands-on."
Fiona's stomach did a flip. This was not what she'd signed up for. But she needed the money for college. She'd promised herself she'd do anything legal. And maybe this was just a figure of speech, a way to say she had to be really good at her job. Right?
The manager slid a nondescript box across the table. "This," she said with a twinkle in her eye, "Is our latest addition. The Sensation Sensation. It's got rave reviews online, but we like to make sure everything works before it hits the floor."
Fiona's curiosity won out over her anxiety. She picked up the box and read the back. It claimed to be a revolution in personal pleasure, with seventy different vibration settings. Seventy! Her cheeks burned. How on earth was she supposed to demonstrate that?
Ms. Hartwell leaned in. "We're looking for someone who's not just comfortable with the products, but who can truly appreciate them. Who can help our customers find their... nirvana. Are you up for the challenge?"
The room felt suddenly smaller. Fiona swallowed hard, her grip tightening on the box. She nodded, her voice barely above a whisper. "I think so."
Ms. Hartwell clapped her hands together. "Fantastic. Let's get you started, shall we?"
Fiona followed her into another room, where racks of clothes were packed tightly together. The uniforms hung neatly in rows: short pleated skirts and tight blouses with the store's logo embroidered on the chest. Ms. Hartwell pulled out a tape measure, her eyes scanning Fiona's frame.
"Now, for the skirt," she began, "We like to keep things professional yet appealing. We need to make sure it fits just right." She knelt down, measuring the distance from Fiona's waist to her knee. Fiona felt a k-not in her stomach tighten as the tape slid against her skin.
Next was the blouse. Ms. Hartwell wrapped the tape around her chest, her gaze never leaving Fiona's face. "This is a size small," she murmured, jotting down the measurements on a notepad. "But it might be a bit too roomy for you. We'll need to find something that really... accentuates your assets." Fiona's cheeks burned. This was definitely not what she had in mind when she applied for the job.
As Ms. Hartwell handed her the outfit, she couldn't help but feel self-conscious.She slipped into the restroom to change. The skirt barely covered her bottom and the blouse was so snug it was practically painted on. Her heart racing. What had she gotten herself into?
When she emerged, Ms. Hartwell nodded approvingly, and asked her to spin. The skirt twirled, exposing more skin than Fiona was comfortable with. But there was something about the way Ms. Hartwell's eyes lit up that made her feel... not just seen, but valued. "Perfect," she said. "Now, let's talk about your role."
Fiona's eyes darted around the room, searching for a sign of what she was actually in for. "As I said earlier, this isn't just a sales position," Ms. Hartwell began. "We need someone who can truly embody the experience we offer. And that means demonstrating our products."
Panic set in. "But, I thought—"
"Don't worry, Fiona," she interrupted smoothly. "It's all very professional, and strictly voluntary. But we need you to get you to know our product range"
Ms. Hartwell's eyes searched hers, and Fiona realized with a jolt that she was waiting for an answer. She took a deep breath, her heart racing. "Well, I've used a vibrator before," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.
The manager nodded thoughtfully. "Just one?"
Fiona nodded, feeling a blush creep up her neck. She'd bought it online, a simple, non-threatening model, after reading that it could help with stress relief. It was something she used in the privacy of her own room, not something she talked about with her friends, let alone a stranger.
Ms. Hartwell leaned back in her chair, tapping a pen against her teeth. "How was your experience?"
Fiona fidgeted with the hem of her new skirt. "It was okay," she mumbled, feeling her cheeks heat up even more. "I guess."
The manager's smile grew wider. "That's a good start. But we need to expand your horizons. This job isn't just about selling toys, it's about being an expert in pleasure. And that means understanding everything we stock."
Ms. Hartwell stood and gestured for Fiona to follow her into the main part of the store. The walls were lined with every conceivable shape and size of dildos, vibrators, and other contraptions that made her blush just looking at them. "This," she began, picking up a sleek, black object with a curved tip, "Is the Rabbit." She demonstrated how the ears fluttered against the skin. "It's a classic. A best-seller. And it does wonders for the ladies."
They moved down the aisle, passing by racks of lingerie that ranged from sweet and innocent to downright scandalous. Fiona felt a thrill run down her spine as Ms. Hartwell explained the different fabrics, the sensations they created, and how to match them with the right toys. "It's all about enhancing the experience," she said, her voice a low purr.
They arrived at the BDSM section, where whips, chains, and handcuffs hung from the walls like a twisted bouquet. "Now, this might be a bit much for some, but we cater to all tastes," Ms. Hartwell said, her eyes glinting. "You'll need to be open-minded here. After all, kink is just a fancy word for creativity."
Fiona's eyes widened as she took in the display. "But, I've never—"
"Never say never, dear," the manager cut in, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. "You'd be surprised what you might enjoy. And if you don't, well, that's just part of the learning process."
They continued the tour, passing by a display of lubricants that promised every sensation from warming to cooling, from tingling to numbing. "Remember," Ms. Hartwell said, "Everyone's different. What works for one person might not work for another."
They rounded a corner and Fiona's eyes fell on a row of dildos in a rainbow of colours. Some were lifelike, others more abstract. Ms. Hartwell picked one up, the size of Fiona's forearm. "This," she said, her voice serious, "Is for advanced users only. But don't worry, we'll start you off with something a bit more... manageable."
Fiona's mind reeled. She'd never considered herself sexually adventurous, but something about Ms. Hartwell's confidence, her ease with the subject, made her feel like maybe, just maybe, she could handle this job. And if nothing else, she'd definitely have some interesting stories to tell come fall.
Her eyes lingered on the dildos, the sizes growing increasingly intimidating. As they moved through the store, she couldn't help but feel a strange arousal building within her. The way the vibrators hummed in their displays, the way the lingerie looked so delicate and yet powerful, it was all so... seductive.
Ms. Hartwell noticed her gaze lingering and gave her a knowing smile. "You see, Fiona," she said, her voice low and velvety, "The human body is a marvellous thing. And our job here is to help people explore those marvels in ways they never thought possible."
Fiona's cheeks burned as she felt the dampness spreading between her thighs. She couldn't believe it. This was a job interview, and she was getting turned on. She squirmed slightly, trying to ignore the growing ache.
Ms. Hartwell's gaze never left her face, and Fiona had the distinct impression she knew exactly what was happening beneath that tiny skirt. "Don't worry, dear," she said, her smile widening, "It's a perfectly natural response. And it's part of the job."
Without warning, she picked up one of the vibrators from the nearby shelf, the Sensation Sensation Fiona had seen earlier. She turned it on, the buzz filling the air. It was louder than Fiona had expected, the vibrations resonating in the quiet of the store. "You see," she began, her voice a seductive purr, "We need to make sure all of our employees are well-versed in our products."
Before Fiona could react, Ms. Hartwell had run the vibrator teasingly between fionas legs. The sensation was electric, a sudden shock that made her gasp. Her knees buckled slightly, and she had to grip the edge of the shelf to stay upright. "You're going to need to get used to this," the manager said, her eyes glinting with mischief.
Ms. Hartwell turned the vibrator off and set it back on the shelf, the buzz echoing in Fiona's ears. She took a deep breath, trying to compose herself. "Now, let's talk underwear," She reached out and, without asking, lifted Fiona's skirt again, her eyes dropping to the plain white panties. "These just won't do."
Fiona felt a mix of embarrassment and excitement as Ms. Hartwell's fingertips grazed her skin. She hadn't been touched like this by anyone, let alone a stranger, and certainly not in a professional setting. But something about the way Ms. Hartwell spoke, the way she moved, made it seem almost... natural.
Ms. Hartwell held up a lacy pair of knickers, the fabric so sheer it was practically see-through. They were adorned with tiny bows and trimmed with satin. "These will do nicely," she said, her eyes lingering on Fiona's crotch. "You'll need to wear these for your first day. It's all part of the job, dear."
Fiona glanced around the store, desperately seeking a private space. But there was nowhere to hide. The walls of sex toys and lingerie seemed to close in around her. She felt a mix of embarrassment and excitement as she slid her fingers under the waistband of her own panties. The fabric was sticky with her arousal. "Okay," she murmured, her voice trembling. "I guess I'll just change here."
Ms. Hartwell nodded, her gaze never leaving Fiona. She watched as the young student slid her panties down her legs, the fabric catching briefly on her heels. Fiona stepped out of them, feeling exposed and vulnerable, but also strangely liberated. She took the new pair from the manager, the cool material brushing against her skin as she slipped them on. They were a perfect fit, hugging her curves in a way that made her feel both self-conscious and empowered.
Ms. Hartwell's eyes gleamed as Fiona straightened up. "Good," she said, her voice a low purr. "Now, let's see how they look." She gestured for Fiona to turn around, and she did, feeling the new fabric caressing her most intimate parts. The manager's eyes roamed over her, a smouldering look that made Fiona's skin tingle.
Then, to Fiona's horror, Ms. Hartwell bent down and picked up the discarded white panties from the floor. "Ah," she said, holding them up. "These are a bit... wet, aren't they?"
Fiona felt the blood rush to her cheeks. "I'm sorry," she mumbled, her voice barely audible.
"Not to worry," Ms. Hartwell said, her tone matter-of-fact. "We can put these to good use." She turned the damp fabric over in her hand, inspecting it. "I've got a special section for used panties. They're quite the hit with some of our regulars."
Fiona's eyes widened in shock. "You can't sell those," she protested.
Ms. Hartwell arched an eyebrow. "Why not? It's a part of the job. And it's how we're going to cover the cost of your new pair."
Fiona felt a mix of embarrassment and something else, something darker and more exciting. The thought of a stranger buying her used panties was... thrilling. But she couldn't let Ms. Hartwell just take them like that. "But—" she began to protest again.
"Consider it a part of your training," the manager said, cutting her off. "Now, let's get you behind the counter and start your first shift. I'll put these up front. I've got a feeling they'll sell fast."
Fiona watched in disbelief as Ms. Hartwell sauntered away with her underwear, the damp fabric clutched in her hand. She felt exposed, and somehow... alive. She'd never felt more embarrassed in her life, but there was a thrill to it, a rush of adrenaline that was intoxicating.
Ms. Hartwell returned with a knowing smile. "Now, let's go over the cash register," she said, her voice brisk and businesslike.
Fiona followed her to the front of the store, her mind racing. She couldn't believe what had just happened, but the anticipation of what was to come was too tantalizing to resist. The bell jingled as a sleazy looking old man with a protruding gut wandered in, his eyes immediately scanning the displays. Fiona felt a flutter of nerves in her stomach. This was it, her first customer.
Ms. Hartwell leaned over the counter, her breasts pressing against the glass. "Welcome, sir," she purred. "How may I help you today?, Gordon"
The man licked his lips, his eyes flicking from Ms. Hartwell's chest to Fiona's. "Looking for something special," he leered.
Fiona's stomach churned as she saw him spot the pair of damp panties displayed prominently on the counter. He lurched forward, his sausage-like fingers reaching out to touch them. "These look... well-used," he sneered, a greasy smile spreading across his face.
Ms. Hartwell's voice was firm. "You know the rules, Gordon. You have to buy them before you can touch them." She wagged a finger playfully. The old man's grin widened, revealing a mouthful of yellowed teeth.
Fiona felt a cold sweat break out on her forehead. She'd never been the centre of attention like this before, especially not in a place like this. But as the man's eyes remained glued to her, she felt something uncoil within her, something that made her stand a little taller. "Tell me about the girl who wore them," he leered, his eyes raking over her body.
Ms. Hartwell leaned closer, her own eyes gleaming with amusement. "Ah, Fiona," she said, her voice a seductive purr. "She's a bit of a minx, isn't she?"
Fiona's cheeks burned as she tried to shrink into the tight fabric of her new blouse. She felt a strange thrill at being talked about like this, like a piece of meat on display. It was wrong, she knew that, but she couldn't deny the way it made her feel. Wanted. Desired. Powerful, in a way she'd never felt before.
The man's eyes narrowed, and Fiona felt a spark of fear. "What's she got that's so special?" he asked, his voice thick with lust.
Ms. Hartwell's smile grew sharper. "Well," she began, her eyes flicking to Fiona's legs, "Let's just say she's got a certain... je ne sais quoi. She's got this innocence about her, but there's a fire in there, too. A hunger to explore, to learn. And when she puts something on, she really makes it her own."
Fiona felt a rush of excitement, a strange sense of pride that she could elicit such a reaction. She'd never felt like this before, like she had some kind of power over people. And it was all because of this tiny, ridiculous store and the even more ridiculous job she'd signed up for.
Gordon leaned even closer, his breath hot and sour. "Virgin?"
Ms. Hartwell's reply was swift and smooth. "Not quite, but very inexperienced," she said with a knowing wink at Fiona. "But she's eager to learn. Aren't you, dear?"
Fiona's heart thumped in her chest. She didn't know how to respond. Was she supposed to be flattered? Grossed out? She felt a strange mix of both. She nodded, her voice barely audible. "Yeah, I guess."
Gordon's grin grew wider as he took out a wad of cash and slapped it down on the counter. "I'll take them and i will pay double for the pair she's wearing right now," he said, pointing to Fiona's panties.
Ms. Hartwell's eyes lit up. "Triple," she countered, "and you can even watch her take them off."
Fiona's jaw dropped. "What?" she squeaked, her cheeks flaming. She couldn't believe what she was hearing. This wasn't in the job description.
Ms. Hartwell winked at her. "It's all part of the job, dear," she murmured. "And think of the commission."
The old man's eyes glittered with excitement. "Deal," he said, his voice hoarse.
Fiona's heart was racing. She knew she should be horrified, but instead, she felt a thrill of excitement. She'd never felt so... wanted before. With trembling hands, she began to slid the panties down her legs, pooling around her ankles. She stepped out of them and then kneeled down to pick them up and handed them to Gordon.
Gordon's eyes were glued to her, his breathing shallow. He took the damp fabric and brought it to his nose, inhaling deeply. "Mmm," he murmured, his eyes glazed over. "Just as I thought." He handed over the cash, his eyes never leaving hers.
Ms. Hartwell rang up the sale, her eyes gleaming. "Very good, Fiona," she said. "You're a natural."
Fiona couldn't help but feel a sense of pride. It was twisted, she knew that, but there was something exhilarating about being the object of desire. She watched as the old man tucked her panties into his pocket and waddled out of the store, his steps lighter than they'd been when he'd come in.
Ms. Hartwell counted out the money, her movements precise and efficient. "Here you go, dear," she said, handing Fiona half of the cash. "A little bonus for your first day."
Fiona took the bills, her eyes wide. "But, I didn't do anything," she protested, feeling the weight of the money in her hand.
Ms. Hartwell's smile was like a cat that had just caught a mouse. "Oh, you did," she said. "You did exactly what we need you to do here. You made a sale."
Fiona's mind raced. This was more than just a job; it was a role, a performance. And she'd just earned herself a standing ovation.
"Go put the money in your bag and hurry back, dear," Ms. Hartwell said, her voice dripping with satisfaction. "And don't forget to pick yourself some new knickers. Unless, of course, you enjoy the breeze down there."
Fiona blushed at the thought of going commando in her new workplace, but the thrill of the transaction overrode her embarrassment. She scurried to the back room, her heart racing. Her trembling hands as she counted the money and stuffed it into her bag. She felt like a secret agent hiding contraband, the thrill of the forbidden making her pulse quicken.
The racks of lingerie whispered to her as she approached, the delicate fabrics fluttering like butterfly wings. She picked out a pair of black lace satin panties with a red bow, feeling the thrill of the illicit as she slid them over her bare skin.
Ms. Hartwell was waiting for her when she emerged, her eyes sparkling with approval. "Much better," she said, her gaze lingering on the peek of lace below Fiona's skirt.
Her eyes scanned the dusty window display: a rainbow of vibrators, a mannequin modelling a leather corset, and a few novelty items that made her blush. A flyer in the corner caught her eye, "Looking for a unique summer gig? Flexible hours, great pay." The promise had drawn her in, and here she was.
The door creaked open, revealing a narrow aisle lined with shelves that stretched to the ceiling, each packed with mysterious boxes and packets. The air smelled faintly of rubber and incense. Fiona stepped inside, her trainers squeaking on the linoleum floor. The shop was quieter than she'd expected for a weekday afternoon, the only sound the occasional buzz from a display of toys in the back.
Behind the counter, a woman with a sharp bob and thick, red-framed glasses looked up from her paperwork. "You must be Fiona," she said with a knowing smile. "I'm Ms. Hartwell, the manager." Her voice was like a cool breeze, a stark contrast to the sultry purrs of the ads Fiona had heard about places like this. "Your interview is at two sharp. I'm a stickler for punctuality."
Fiona nodded, feeling a mix of relief and dread. She'd never stepped foot in a sex shop before, let alone worked in one. The walls were adorned with posters of half-dressed models, their smiles too wide, too perfect. The shelves whispered secrets she didn't dare imagine.
Ms. Hartwell led her to a cramped back room, the walls lined with cardboard boxes and a single chair in the centre. "So, you're looking for some summer work," she began, her tone professional despite the surroundings. "What do you know about our products?"
Fiona's cheeks flushed. "Well, I've... uh, I've read some articles." It was a lie. She'd only ever bought a pack of glow-in-the-dark condoms from a gas station, and even that had been a nerve-wracking experience.
Ms. Hartwell's eyes narrowed, assessing. "You're going to need more than that, dear. This isn't just about selling merchandise. It's about understanding what our customers need. Sometimes, that means getting a bit... hands-on."
Fiona's stomach did a flip. This was not what she'd signed up for. But she needed the money for college. She'd promised herself she'd do anything legal. And maybe this was just a figure of speech, a way to say she had to be really good at her job. Right?
The manager slid a nondescript box across the table. "This," she said with a twinkle in her eye, "Is our latest addition. The Sensation Sensation. It's got rave reviews online, but we like to make sure everything works before it hits the floor."
Fiona's curiosity won out over her anxiety. She picked up the box and read the back. It claimed to be a revolution in personal pleasure, with seventy different vibration settings. Seventy! Her cheeks burned. How on earth was she supposed to demonstrate that?
Ms. Hartwell leaned in. "We're looking for someone who's not just comfortable with the products, but who can truly appreciate them. Who can help our customers find their... nirvana. Are you up for the challenge?"
The room felt suddenly smaller. Fiona swallowed hard, her grip tightening on the box. She nodded, her voice barely above a whisper. "I think so."
Ms. Hartwell clapped her hands together. "Fantastic. Let's get you started, shall we?"
Fiona followed her into another room, where racks of clothes were packed tightly together. The uniforms hung neatly in rows: short pleated skirts and tight blouses with the store's logo embroidered on the chest. Ms. Hartwell pulled out a tape measure, her eyes scanning Fiona's frame.
"Now, for the skirt," she began, "We like to keep things professional yet appealing. We need to make sure it fits just right." She knelt down, measuring the distance from Fiona's waist to her knee. Fiona felt a k-not in her stomach tighten as the tape slid against her skin.
Next was the blouse. Ms. Hartwell wrapped the tape around her chest, her gaze never leaving Fiona's face. "This is a size small," she murmured, jotting down the measurements on a notepad. "But it might be a bit too roomy for you. We'll need to find something that really... accentuates your assets." Fiona's cheeks burned. This was definitely not what she had in mind when she applied for the job.
As Ms. Hartwell handed her the outfit, she couldn't help but feel self-conscious.She slipped into the restroom to change. The skirt barely covered her bottom and the blouse was so snug it was practically painted on. Her heart racing. What had she gotten herself into?
When she emerged, Ms. Hartwell nodded approvingly, and asked her to spin. The skirt twirled, exposing more skin than Fiona was comfortable with. But there was something about the way Ms. Hartwell's eyes lit up that made her feel... not just seen, but valued. "Perfect," she said. "Now, let's talk about your role."
Fiona's eyes darted around the room, searching for a sign of what she was actually in for. "As I said earlier, this isn't just a sales position," Ms. Hartwell began. "We need someone who can truly embody the experience we offer. And that means demonstrating our products."
Panic set in. "But, I thought—"
"Don't worry, Fiona," she interrupted smoothly. "It's all very professional, and strictly voluntary. But we need you to get you to know our product range"
Ms. Hartwell's eyes searched hers, and Fiona realized with a jolt that she was waiting for an answer. She took a deep breath, her heart racing. "Well, I've used a vibrator before," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.
The manager nodded thoughtfully. "Just one?"
Fiona nodded, feeling a blush creep up her neck. She'd bought it online, a simple, non-threatening model, after reading that it could help with stress relief. It was something she used in the privacy of her own room, not something she talked about with her friends, let alone a stranger.
Ms. Hartwell leaned back in her chair, tapping a pen against her teeth. "How was your experience?"
Fiona fidgeted with the hem of her new skirt. "It was okay," she mumbled, feeling her cheeks heat up even more. "I guess."
The manager's smile grew wider. "That's a good start. But we need to expand your horizons. This job isn't just about selling toys, it's about being an expert in pleasure. And that means understanding everything we stock."
Ms. Hartwell stood and gestured for Fiona to follow her into the main part of the store. The walls were lined with every conceivable shape and size of dildos, vibrators, and other contraptions that made her blush just looking at them. "This," she began, picking up a sleek, black object with a curved tip, "Is the Rabbit." She demonstrated how the ears fluttered against the skin. "It's a classic. A best-seller. And it does wonders for the ladies."
They moved down the aisle, passing by racks of lingerie that ranged from sweet and innocent to downright scandalous. Fiona felt a thrill run down her spine as Ms. Hartwell explained the different fabrics, the sensations they created, and how to match them with the right toys. "It's all about enhancing the experience," she said, her voice a low purr.
They arrived at the BDSM section, where whips, chains, and handcuffs hung from the walls like a twisted bouquet. "Now, this might be a bit much for some, but we cater to all tastes," Ms. Hartwell said, her eyes glinting. "You'll need to be open-minded here. After all, kink is just a fancy word for creativity."
Fiona's eyes widened as she took in the display. "But, I've never—"
"Never say never, dear," the manager cut in, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. "You'd be surprised what you might enjoy. And if you don't, well, that's just part of the learning process."
They continued the tour, passing by a display of lubricants that promised every sensation from warming to cooling, from tingling to numbing. "Remember," Ms. Hartwell said, "Everyone's different. What works for one person might not work for another."
They rounded a corner and Fiona's eyes fell on a row of dildos in a rainbow of colours. Some were lifelike, others more abstract. Ms. Hartwell picked one up, the size of Fiona's forearm. "This," she said, her voice serious, "Is for advanced users only. But don't worry, we'll start you off with something a bit more... manageable."
Fiona's mind reeled. She'd never considered herself sexually adventurous, but something about Ms. Hartwell's confidence, her ease with the subject, made her feel like maybe, just maybe, she could handle this job. And if nothing else, she'd definitely have some interesting stories to tell come fall.
Her eyes lingered on the dildos, the sizes growing increasingly intimidating. As they moved through the store, she couldn't help but feel a strange arousal building within her. The way the vibrators hummed in their displays, the way the lingerie looked so delicate and yet powerful, it was all so... seductive.
Ms. Hartwell noticed her gaze lingering and gave her a knowing smile. "You see, Fiona," she said, her voice low and velvety, "The human body is a marvellous thing. And our job here is to help people explore those marvels in ways they never thought possible."
Fiona's cheeks burned as she felt the dampness spreading between her thighs. She couldn't believe it. This was a job interview, and she was getting turned on. She squirmed slightly, trying to ignore the growing ache.
Ms. Hartwell's gaze never left her face, and Fiona had the distinct impression she knew exactly what was happening beneath that tiny skirt. "Don't worry, dear," she said, her smile widening, "It's a perfectly natural response. And it's part of the job."
Without warning, she picked up one of the vibrators from the nearby shelf, the Sensation Sensation Fiona had seen earlier. She turned it on, the buzz filling the air. It was louder than Fiona had expected, the vibrations resonating in the quiet of the store. "You see," she began, her voice a seductive purr, "We need to make sure all of our employees are well-versed in our products."
Before Fiona could react, Ms. Hartwell had run the vibrator teasingly between fionas legs. The sensation was electric, a sudden shock that made her gasp. Her knees buckled slightly, and she had to grip the edge of the shelf to stay upright. "You're going to need to get used to this," the manager said, her eyes glinting with mischief.
Ms. Hartwell turned the vibrator off and set it back on the shelf, the buzz echoing in Fiona's ears. She took a deep breath, trying to compose herself. "Now, let's talk underwear," She reached out and, without asking, lifted Fiona's skirt again, her eyes dropping to the plain white panties. "These just won't do."
Fiona felt a mix of embarrassment and excitement as Ms. Hartwell's fingertips grazed her skin. She hadn't been touched like this by anyone, let alone a stranger, and certainly not in a professional setting. But something about the way Ms. Hartwell spoke, the way she moved, made it seem almost... natural.
Ms. Hartwell held up a lacy pair of knickers, the fabric so sheer it was practically see-through. They were adorned with tiny bows and trimmed with satin. "These will do nicely," she said, her eyes lingering on Fiona's crotch. "You'll need to wear these for your first day. It's all part of the job, dear."
Fiona glanced around the store, desperately seeking a private space. But there was nowhere to hide. The walls of sex toys and lingerie seemed to close in around her. She felt a mix of embarrassment and excitement as she slid her fingers under the waistband of her own panties. The fabric was sticky with her arousal. "Okay," she murmured, her voice trembling. "I guess I'll just change here."
Ms. Hartwell nodded, her gaze never leaving Fiona. She watched as the young student slid her panties down her legs, the fabric catching briefly on her heels. Fiona stepped out of them, feeling exposed and vulnerable, but also strangely liberated. She took the new pair from the manager, the cool material brushing against her skin as she slipped them on. They were a perfect fit, hugging her curves in a way that made her feel both self-conscious and empowered.
Ms. Hartwell's eyes gleamed as Fiona straightened up. "Good," she said, her voice a low purr. "Now, let's see how they look." She gestured for Fiona to turn around, and she did, feeling the new fabric caressing her most intimate parts. The manager's eyes roamed over her, a smouldering look that made Fiona's skin tingle.
Then, to Fiona's horror, Ms. Hartwell bent down and picked up the discarded white panties from the floor. "Ah," she said, holding them up. "These are a bit... wet, aren't they?"
Fiona felt the blood rush to her cheeks. "I'm sorry," she mumbled, her voice barely audible.
"Not to worry," Ms. Hartwell said, her tone matter-of-fact. "We can put these to good use." She turned the damp fabric over in her hand, inspecting it. "I've got a special section for used panties. They're quite the hit with some of our regulars."
Fiona's eyes widened in shock. "You can't sell those," she protested.
Ms. Hartwell arched an eyebrow. "Why not? It's a part of the job. And it's how we're going to cover the cost of your new pair."
Fiona felt a mix of embarrassment and something else, something darker and more exciting. The thought of a stranger buying her used panties was... thrilling. But she couldn't let Ms. Hartwell just take them like that. "But—" she began to protest again.
"Consider it a part of your training," the manager said, cutting her off. "Now, let's get you behind the counter and start your first shift. I'll put these up front. I've got a feeling they'll sell fast."
Fiona watched in disbelief as Ms. Hartwell sauntered away with her underwear, the damp fabric clutched in her hand. She felt exposed, and somehow... alive. She'd never felt more embarrassed in her life, but there was a thrill to it, a rush of adrenaline that was intoxicating.
Ms. Hartwell returned with a knowing smile. "Now, let's go over the cash register," she said, her voice brisk and businesslike.
Fiona followed her to the front of the store, her mind racing. She couldn't believe what had just happened, but the anticipation of what was to come was too tantalizing to resist. The bell jingled as a sleazy looking old man with a protruding gut wandered in, his eyes immediately scanning the displays. Fiona felt a flutter of nerves in her stomach. This was it, her first customer.
Ms. Hartwell leaned over the counter, her breasts pressing against the glass. "Welcome, sir," she purred. "How may I help you today?, Gordon"
The man licked his lips, his eyes flicking from Ms. Hartwell's chest to Fiona's. "Looking for something special," he leered.
Fiona's stomach churned as she saw him spot the pair of damp panties displayed prominently on the counter. He lurched forward, his sausage-like fingers reaching out to touch them. "These look... well-used," he sneered, a greasy smile spreading across his face.
Ms. Hartwell's voice was firm. "You know the rules, Gordon. You have to buy them before you can touch them." She wagged a finger playfully. The old man's grin widened, revealing a mouthful of yellowed teeth.
Fiona felt a cold sweat break out on her forehead. She'd never been the centre of attention like this before, especially not in a place like this. But as the man's eyes remained glued to her, she felt something uncoil within her, something that made her stand a little taller. "Tell me about the girl who wore them," he leered, his eyes raking over her body.
Ms. Hartwell leaned closer, her own eyes gleaming with amusement. "Ah, Fiona," she said, her voice a seductive purr. "She's a bit of a minx, isn't she?"
Fiona's cheeks burned as she tried to shrink into the tight fabric of her new blouse. She felt a strange thrill at being talked about like this, like a piece of meat on display. It was wrong, she knew that, but she couldn't deny the way it made her feel. Wanted. Desired. Powerful, in a way she'd never felt before.
The man's eyes narrowed, and Fiona felt a spark of fear. "What's she got that's so special?" he asked, his voice thick with lust.
Ms. Hartwell's smile grew sharper. "Well," she began, her eyes flicking to Fiona's legs, "Let's just say she's got a certain... je ne sais quoi. She's got this innocence about her, but there's a fire in there, too. A hunger to explore, to learn. And when she puts something on, she really makes it her own."
Fiona felt a rush of excitement, a strange sense of pride that she could elicit such a reaction. She'd never felt like this before, like she had some kind of power over people. And it was all because of this tiny, ridiculous store and the even more ridiculous job she'd signed up for.
Gordon leaned even closer, his breath hot and sour. "Virgin?"
Ms. Hartwell's reply was swift and smooth. "Not quite, but very inexperienced," she said with a knowing wink at Fiona. "But she's eager to learn. Aren't you, dear?"
Fiona's heart thumped in her chest. She didn't know how to respond. Was she supposed to be flattered? Grossed out? She felt a strange mix of both. She nodded, her voice barely audible. "Yeah, I guess."
Gordon's grin grew wider as he took out a wad of cash and slapped it down on the counter. "I'll take them and i will pay double for the pair she's wearing right now," he said, pointing to Fiona's panties.
Ms. Hartwell's eyes lit up. "Triple," she countered, "and you can even watch her take them off."
Fiona's jaw dropped. "What?" she squeaked, her cheeks flaming. She couldn't believe what she was hearing. This wasn't in the job description.
Ms. Hartwell winked at her. "It's all part of the job, dear," she murmured. "And think of the commission."
The old man's eyes glittered with excitement. "Deal," he said, his voice hoarse.
Fiona's heart was racing. She knew she should be horrified, but instead, she felt a thrill of excitement. She'd never felt so... wanted before. With trembling hands, she began to slid the panties down her legs, pooling around her ankles. She stepped out of them and then kneeled down to pick them up and handed them to Gordon.
Gordon's eyes were glued to her, his breathing shallow. He took the damp fabric and brought it to his nose, inhaling deeply. "Mmm," he murmured, his eyes glazed over. "Just as I thought." He handed over the cash, his eyes never leaving hers.
Ms. Hartwell rang up the sale, her eyes gleaming. "Very good, Fiona," she said. "You're a natural."
Fiona couldn't help but feel a sense of pride. It was twisted, she knew that, but there was something exhilarating about being the object of desire. She watched as the old man tucked her panties into his pocket and waddled out of the store, his steps lighter than they'd been when he'd come in.
Ms. Hartwell counted out the money, her movements precise and efficient. "Here you go, dear," she said, handing Fiona half of the cash. "A little bonus for your first day."
Fiona took the bills, her eyes wide. "But, I didn't do anything," she protested, feeling the weight of the money in her hand.
Ms. Hartwell's smile was like a cat that had just caught a mouse. "Oh, you did," she said. "You did exactly what we need you to do here. You made a sale."
Fiona's mind raced. This was more than just a job; it was a role, a performance. And she'd just earned herself a standing ovation.
"Go put the money in your bag and hurry back, dear," Ms. Hartwell said, her voice dripping with satisfaction. "And don't forget to pick yourself some new knickers. Unless, of course, you enjoy the breeze down there."
Fiona blushed at the thought of going commando in her new workplace, but the thrill of the transaction overrode her embarrassment. She scurried to the back room, her heart racing. Her trembling hands as she counted the money and stuffed it into her bag. She felt like a secret agent hiding contraband, the thrill of the forbidden making her pulse quicken.
The racks of lingerie whispered to her as she approached, the delicate fabrics fluttering like butterfly wings. She picked out a pair of black lace satin panties with a red bow, feeling the thrill of the illicit as she slid them over her bare skin.
Ms. Hartwell was waiting for her when she emerged, her eyes sparkling with approval. "Much better," she said, her gaze lingering on the peek of lace below Fiona's skirt.
1 month ago
