Chapter 8

“Welcome to Victoria’s Secret. I’m Victoria and this is my secret,” the saleswoman with a dirty blonde pageboy hairdo and slightly too much blush told me.

She was of average height, but very slender and graceful, with baby blue eyes and a rather charming “social butterfly” ethos to her. Even her jest seemed more like self-deprecating humor and awareness of the weirdness of the coincidence of names than anything else. She looked at my female companions, and then at me, before she dared to crack her next joke.

“Mormons?” Victoria implied polygamy of the fundamentalist variety.

“Nope. Just members of his fan club. By him, I mean Sir Cecil here. Well, these two are prospective members, not properly initiated yet. We’ve interviewed some other prospects as well today. It’s been a very busy day,” June told her, “June Thomas, Esquire. President of the Sir Cecil Evans Fan Club, of course.”

“Also his sister,” Erica commented, “as am I. As is Casey here. We’re his sisters. And also his lovers.”

“Wait, why does he have a fan club ... and a knighthood? And how are you three his sisters? Are these two his sisters as well? And why are you his lovers, too? Isn’t that incest? Unless you’re not ... blood sisters? Adopted? Foster sisters? Sorry, so many questions and I have sales to make. You’re here to shop, right? Victoria Mavros, by the way. A not always good Greek girl, I’m afraid. A bit nosy and chatty at times. Though I’m sweet, I promise!” Victoria nervously bit her lower lip and toyed with her hair.

“So, is it really Victoria, or do you prefer ‘Vicky?’ And yes, we’re his blood sisters. Half-sisters, though. Which is genetically closer to first cousins, I think, in terms of consanguinity. Same Dad,” Casey stipulated now.

“Different Mum. Allow me to properly introduce myself. Sir Cecil Evans, Bart. Esquire. Solicitor back in Cardiff, Wales, but now an attorney here in the States,” I made my formal introduction, “this is Casey Jones, this is Erica D’Gianni, and as noted, this is June Thomas. My big sister. By two years. I’m thirty-six. She’s thirty-eight. My old man got around.”

“Bart? Is that a second surname? You Brits have those sometimes,” Victoria observed, “and you can call me ‘Vicky.’ I do ... actually prefer that friends call me that. Friends and family. And who are these two young ladies?”

“Okay, Vicky, I also hope that we can be friends. Or family. I’m very fond of my family, as you can see. Less so of my ex-wife, but that’s another story. My ex-mate can have her. That’s the best revenge for that. Reveling in his self-inflicted burden of that bitch ruining his life! How nice of him to take her off my hands!

“As for the ‘Bart’ part, it’s an abbreviation for ‘baronet.’ As in a baronetcy, which is a rank just above knighthood, but below peerage in the UK. It’s hereditary, and rather handy in some ways, even if it disqualifies me simultaneously from Lords and Commons alike. In other words, I can’t sit in Parliament at all, except as a visitor. Though you are correct that double surnames sometimes occur back home,” I explained now, making Vicky blush a little.

“I see ... and who are these two charming lasses?” Vicky looked flustered as she stared at all of us, not yet discussing anything germane to sales.

“This is Jessica and this is Nadia. I must confess to some embarrassment at not yet knowing their surnames, as we just met several minutes ago. Though, oddly, I engaged in sexual congress with Jess here, but not yet with Nadia. Anyway, we’re here to purchase some new underwear for these two lovelies here, as they were nice enough to donate their old panties to us,” I clarified as if this was an everyday occurrence.

“Jessica Larousse. My mother is a Jewish refugee from Beirut, Lebanon, and my father is from Provence in France. He emigrated to the States just before knocking up my mother and marrying her. He’s a bit of a romantic that way. This is my best friend, Nadia Andrescu. Her parents are from Bucharest, Romania. I think that we clicked partly because we both have big, extended immigrant families who still speak foreign languages at home a lot,” Jess explained.

“Why America and not Israel? Just curious,” Vicky probed.

“I wonder about that myself at times, but I think that Mom was loath to be drafted and have to fight people. Israel conscripts women. America doesn’t. Mom’s just not the soldierly type, you know. She just wants to go to temple and pray for Israel, not have to fight for it. She can light her menorah and Shabbos candles from a safe distance and eat matzo bread in peace on Passover, you know. I think that, being from Lebanon, Mom saw more than she cared for of war,” Jess rambled, albeit rather charmingly.

“That’s ... reason enough. I get that. I’m kind of a flower child at times. A little bit hippie-ish. Make love and not war is a sentiment that appeals to me. Hence working here, I guess,” Vicky shifted her feet and fidgeted a little while stealing looks at my bulge.

“Hey, honey, if you want that dick, don’t be shy. Sharing is caring, right? Though I doubt that the Salvation Army means it quite that way,” June teased Vicky now.

“Wait ... you don’t mean that there’s room for one more in this ‘fan club’ of yours, do you?” Vicky gulped rather visibly in front of us, getting a strange look from one of her colleagues.

“Oh, babe, there’s always room for another lady in the Fan Club, trust me. The more, the merrier in the club. You’d just have to pay your dues and be initiated, of course,” Erica winked at her.

“Damn straight, there’s more than enough room for another woman in the Fan Club. Hell, as far as I’m concerned, if there’s a gay or bi guy who’s interested in my brother here, I’m cool with him joining ... just not sure how he’d pay his dues exactly. Since that necessarily involves eating June out in her capacity as President of the Fan Club. Well, it would be harder on the gay dude than the bi one, of course,” Casey licked her lips for some reason.

“I could always substitute pegging for that. Or he could eat my ass and pretend that I’m Cecil here. It might be tough to do that part, though, since my butt’s a lot smoother than my brother’s,” June snickered, making Vicky and the rest of us giggle while the annoyed colleague approached us.

“Excuse me, but are you actually shopping or just harassing poor Vicky here?” the saleslady demanded of us, “should I get Karen involved?”

“No, Michelle, there’s no need to bother Karen. They are actually shopping for some panties for these two girls, but we developed some ... chemistry in the process. They’re really fun people. You might even like them, if you can get over the bizarre nature of their relationships with each other. These women are all his fans, believe it or not, even though he’s no celebrity,” Vicky told her colleague and friend, a big, busty woman with jet-black curls.

“Well, now, you must have ... something going on, and from the way that my girlfriend here seems to be ... undressing you with her eyes, now that I’ve noticed it, well, I think that I can guess what that is. You’ll have to excuse my friend here. She’s very ... soft, sweet, and shy at times, yet very sociable and even gossipy in her own way. She’s really quite the hippie girl, even if I have the big hips,” Michelle told us.

“Okay, best to do some business before we get you gals in trouble with your boss. We might have all day, but you two don’t, do you? Care to show us your underwear?” I quite deliberately punned.

Vicky was so floored by that joke that she tripped and fell over for a second before Michelle helped her stand back up with a surprisingly strong arm. I then pulled her into my arms and impulsively gave her a hug. She blushed a lot now as she began showing us the selection of panties for girls the age range and sizes of Nadia and Jess. Not surprisingly, they chose to use the moment to flirt with Vicky and tease her a bit.

“You’re about our size. Why don’t you model these panties for us? We want to put them on and know that your pussy juices have gotten on them inside. And you are very wet right now, aren’t you, sweet Vicky? I just bet that you are, babe!” Nadia brazenly handed the panties in question to Vicky so she could model them for us.

Michelle, far from speaking up now to “protect” her friend, instead helped her slip off her own panties in public, exposing her pussy in the process. Then she helped her slide each pair on her as well. She didn’t even try to hide her attraction to her friend at this point. She just openly grabbed Vicky’s actual panties and tucked them into her own purse after sniffing them a bit. Clearly, Michelle had changed her attitude about this whole business and wanted to see it all play out.

When Karen started to move toward us out of concern for her subordinates who might be harassed by unruly patrons, Michelle signaled for her to back off for now. It was a gesture to indicate “everything’s okay, don’t worry,” which reassured Karen for now. When Vicky finished modeling the panties for Nadia and Jess and reached for her own underwear to slip them back onto her flesh, Michelle also shook her head in the negative.

“Oh, no, sweetie. I’ve waited for so long to get into your panties ... and if I can’t in the way that I hoped, I at least get to wear them now. One pair, anyway. Nice taste in undies, by the way, hon,” Michelle told Vicky before slipping her some tongue in front of everyone.

“Michelle!” Karen shouted as she walked aggressively toward us, evidently now targeting Michelle as her main antagonist, “that is so ... so ... inappropriate!”

“Oh, shut up and kiss me, too! You know that you want some of this, too, so you’re just jealous! I’ll romance you, too, babe! Face it, you two ... you both want me ... and I want both of you the same way, so deal with it! So, guys, if you want to sleep with her, you gotta sleep with both of us, too! Buy one salesgirl, get two more for free! It’s a real bundle of a deal!” Michelle told us while smooching Vicky and Karen in turn.

“Well, I guess that they’ll have no trouble paying their dues, will they, sis?” I asked June while paying for the undies for Jess and Nadia.

“Oooh, nice! I can’t wait to sit on their faces and eat them out as well as watch you fuck them into next week! And imagine what Erica will do to them! Yes, this has been a very productive day, hasn’t it? So ... are any of you ladies ... married or dating anyone seriously?” June dared to ask the trio of salesladies while we saw them making out with each other.

“Well, yes to the second one, I think ... with each other. Now, anyway,” Michelle winked at us, “my marriage just ended, in fact. As for Vicky, well, she had her divorce two years ago. Karen’s, well, Karen. She has a zombie marriage. It’s dead, but still walking around. I keep telling her to pull the plug. Maybe she will now.”

“It’s just been so hard ... accepting that Rich doesn’t want me anymore. Who the fuck knows why, but when sexual attraction is gone, you might have affection and companionship, but you’re basically living like brother and sister or something,” Karen blushed as she mused.

“Well, not like all brothers and sisters, that much is clear!” Nadia commented, making everyone laugh as Vicky, Michelle, and Karen gave us their phone numbers.

“Do you still want Rich, though?” I presumed to inquire now.

“I’m not even sure anymore. I was so fixated on winning his favor for so long that it’s become a habit, but by now, it’s like a dog chasing a car. What would I do with his interest in me if I even got it back? Yeah, it’s a fucked-up situation.

“It all went down after my twin daughters left the nest three years ago. His stepdaughters. Something broke down, if it didn’t already by then. Well, it’s not worth wasting my time with him. I got two lusty ladies to console me ... and maybe some male company in the future, from the looks of this,” Karen reassured herself as she caressed my groin.

“Yeah, that cock of his ... it’s the bee’s fucking knees, trust me! One taste ... and you’ll be putty in his hands! Trust me, dear! You three are in for a real treat! Once you’re in our brother’s arms, you’ll never want to give him up! We’re building up a harem for this bloke and few men have ever deserved one more!” Casey asserted while we exchanged all of our phone numbers that remained to share.

“Yeah, forget about Mr. Roper, babe! Sir Cecil Evans here is a Welsh version of Casanova or whatever! You’ll soon be plotting ways to lure him back into bed, no doubt of that! I can’t wait to have his babies myself! Yes, babies, plural ... right, girls?” June insisted.

“Oh, fuck, yeah ... I’m going to carry his baby bump with pride and I look forward to pushing strollers with my girlfriends here side by side, each with my brother’s brats inside them. Polyamory? This is that on steroids! Talk about fluid-bonding! Just know that once you’re his lover, you’re mine, too. My specialty is going down on my lovers, though not to the exclusion of other acts, of course,” Erica admitted to her oral kink in front of these new prospects.