Chapter 9: Trouble at the Mall

When Helen served our breakfast the next morning, she was full of praise for our courageous behavior the previous evening.

"The way you two abandoned yourselves to your lust in front of a bunch of rather conventional people was quite remarkable," she commented. "Just imagine what you might be capable of if you got together with a bunch of people who bring their own sense of adventure to the party," she returned to the subject of including other people, more specifically some of her friends, into our sex life.

"Have you ever thought about having two cocks inside you at the same time?" Helen tried to waken Cathy's interest in other partners.

"Why stop at two? I can handle three," was Cathy's response.

I wasn't sold that easily on the idea. I wanted to know more about who they were. What were the women like? How did they compare with Cathy and Helen as far as looks and sexual appetite were concerned?

Helen was not upset, nor dissuaded, by my reluctance. "You'll soon have a chance to answer all these questions for yourself," she promised.

To my surprise, this morning wasn't 'business as usual' and 'I'll see you downstairs in fifteen minutes'.

"After yesterday's performance, Cathy deserves a small present - or even a big one - as a sign of recognition. Don't you agree?" Helen asked me.

I heartily agreed, but confessed at the same time that I was hopeless and lacking imagination when it came to buying presents. Cathy would have to come along and select something she liked. I would gladly foot the bill.

"Alright, I'm going to give you the morning off so you can go to the mall and buy something nice for Cathy."

So, after we had finished our breakfast, we both got ready to go to the mall. I felt really strange to put on the street clothes I hadn't been wearing for some time and Cathy confessed that she too was feeling weird to be fully dressed.

I had suggested that Cathy choose a nice dress, one which both looked elegant and made her figure appear in the best possible light, but she told me that she had gone right off clothes. Instead she dragged me into this up-market jeweler's.

This was the kind of place I would never set foot in on my own. Not because I'm a hopeless tightwad, although my stinginess may also play a role, but mainly because it was the kind of place where I don't feel welcome. Everything about the shop screamed, 'Don't bother us with your ugly presence unless you have a cool million sitting in your bank account, ready to spend.'

It made me think of the story about a lady walking into Tiffany's in New York City and asking for the price of one of the items displayed in the window. According to the story, the sales assistant answered, "If you need to ask what the price is, Madam, then it's probably too expensive for you."

Along with the ostentation of the furniture and the rest of the fittings came the snooty arrogance of the staff who were looking down on all but the most wealthy of customers. The sales assistant - she was nothing more than a snotty-nosed girl with an attitude - didn't bother to ask us what we were interested in. She led us to one of the tables, asked us to take seats and offered a choice of hot and cold beverages. Only then did she inquire how she could help us.

"We would like to see what you can offer us in the line of nipple clamps," Cathy said matter-of-factly.

This took even me by surprise. Had I known that that was what Cathy wanted as a present, I might have told her that this was definitely not the place to go. But now it was too late.

The girl was visibly shocked by Cathy's request. She lost her air of superiority for a moment. Her face blushed visibly. "Nipple clamps?" she stammered. "I'm sorry Madam, we don't carry this type of accessory in our stock."

The initial shock wore off soon and she recovered her cool arrogance. "Maybe you'll have more luck if you try the sex shop at the far end of this wing."

I didn't like the condescending tone in her voice, or the way she gave herself airs of superiority. I won't have anybody look down on my wife.

"Is that where you buy yours?" I asked the salesgirl.

She turned towards me and looked at me as if she were going to slap my face. Quite clearly, my suggestion that she might own or use nipple clamps was the most insulting thing anybody had ever said to her.

As soon as I had asked my question, I realized that since I had entered this shop I had only thought of her as a stuck-up sales assistant. I hadn't treated her like a woman. In other words: I hadn't made any attempt to undress her with my eyes. 'It's never too late, ' I told myself and had a closer look at her.

She was young, most people would say attractive. Her breasts were safely tucked away in her all-white bra under a brilliant white blouse. The rest of her body was hidden behind the table but I remembered that her dark skirt ended just below her knees and that she was wearing shoes in a matching blue. The name badge on her blouse read 'Ms Audrey Simpson-Stone'.

'Even her name is pretentious, ' I thought. But then I felt a little sorry for her when I imagined how she must have suffered when her schoolmates worked out that the initials of her name spelt the word ass.

I could notice the slight up and down movement of her breasts inside her blouse as she breathed. The poor girl had probably never experienced what it's like to wear nipple clamps. She had probably never been spanked or whipped. She didn't know what it's like to climax from pain. Sex with her wouldn't be very satisfying. I was better off with Cathy and Helen. And maybe Helen's suggestion that we needed to meet people who understood our desires wasn't that far from the truth.