You Don't Need to Wave a Card... - Cover

You Don't Need to Wave a Card...

Copyright© 2011 by Thinking Horndog

Chapter 7

Science Fiction Sex Story: Chapter 7 - Scott Harshman finally gets his CAP card -- but discovers that you don't have to wave the thing under someone's nose to get in trouble over being sponsor-grade! A Swarm Cycle story

Caution: This Science Fiction Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Fa/Fa   Mult   Consensual   Romantic   Drunk/Drugged   Slavery   BiSexual   Heterosexual   Science Fiction   Space   Cheating   Light Bond   Harem   Interracial   Black Female   White Male   White Female   First   Oral Sex   Anal Sex   Masturbation   Petting   Pregnancy   Cream Pie   Exhibitionism   BBW   Body Modification   Military  

I think I've described Rachel as 'portly.' Alisha would be merely plush. But they tended to be on the small end of the denizens of the plus-size store. They were on the lower end of the age spectrum, too, I noticed. We proceeded to shoot for a similar scenario to the one at the earlier shop -- and got a good deal more squawks for our trouble. Older women -- especially LARGE older women -- tended to be somewhat hidebound where privacy was concerned. Frankly, in many cases, I couldn't blame them.

Rachel, however, was in her element. Determined to be irreverent, she played her part with a certain unholy glee. We weren't in the store five minutes before she came out of the changing rooms in just a pair of panties and announced, "Scotty, Sweetheart, what do you think of that black bra over there? Shannon, Honey, could you check to see if they have it in forty-two 'D'? Thanks! You're a doll!" The older sales staff -- and they were up there, probably in their fifties -- started puffing and blowing and Rachel objected, "Well, now, how is he going to SEE? I'm shopping for HIM, you know! Come back here, Sweetheart -- you can look at them in the booth, I guess, since the salesladies seem to be uptight. I mean, hey, it's ME deciding whether I want to show them off, for God's sake!" Two minutes later, she was back in the bra, flopping the cups up and down by tugging on the shoulder straps. "Shannon? I think this is too loose in the cups, don't you? Could you look for a 'C' cup? Thanks!"

I thought it was a riot -- and I wasn't the only one! There were four guys in the store, counting Mike -- Red and Cheryl stayed outside on patrol, because Cheryl was way too tall and thin to bother being in there -- and they were all perfectly happy to gaze upon Rachel in various states of undress. The old biddies were atwitter and wanted Rachel out of sight -- but there was one young thing on the sales staff who I would describe as well-padded but curvy -- somewhere between Rachel and Alisha, but with a well-displayed rack and serious fashion sense -- who started running interference for Rachel. The next thing I knew, she and Rachel and Shannon were in the changing room, jabbering away, and then the girl, whose name was Barbara, apparently, would wave me into the dressing room, running interference, yelling, "Careful, girls -- there's a man in the area!" Then she would stand around watching and kibitzing while I offered up opinions on how something looked or fit and felt Rachel up outrageously while Rachel casually threw things on and off. I was deliberately casual with Shannon, too, right in front of Barbara, occasionally cupping a breast or giving her a peck -- which caused Shannon to turn pink virtually without fail. Rachel started complimenting Barbara on her fashion sense and making other overtures and the trio got increasingly friendly.

I'd just been let out to wander the main store for a bit when Barbara finally made the query: "Wow! You two are pretty casual with Scott. Which one of you is his girlfriend?"

Rachel responded with, "Oh, it isn't like that..." then glanced around before adding conspiratorially, "He's keeping us both."

"Oh, so he's... ?" Barbara replied.

"Uh huh." Rachel nodded. Shannon did, too.

"How many?" Barbara asked.

"A couple more..." Rachel picked at her fingernail polish. "Don't tell anyone!"

"Oh, no! Of COURSE not!" Barbara was all over it -- and she was all over ME at the next opportunity!

Nothing else needed to be said. Barbara didn't even tell anyone -- but her attitude caused a certain contagion. Mike and Alisha put their heads together and Alisha made her way into the dressing room area -- and didn't leave and didn't close her door and took off more clothing than required for her changes. She also made shift to parade past us to the doors and show Mike things there, and vamp me coming and going.

This encouraged some others. Some of them looked halfway decent, and some only thought they did. The vast majority stayed away, knowing that they weren't in competition due to one factor or another, but a mother-daughter team came in and after a whispered conference with one of the older salesladies, BOTH of them suddenly needed to try on numerous items. There were a couple of others, too -- the dressing rooms started to get crowded and 'decency' went more or less by the wayside. When the males present didn't puke or anything, more than one of the women began enjoying themselves, and asking males in the store -- males unrelated to them in any way -- what they thought of this or that.

Meanwhile, Barbara contrived to show me her tits under the guise of suggesting that Rachel might look nice in the particular model of bra she was wearing. She had somewhat droopy tits, but they presented well in that bra, opening up a fascinating expanse of cleavage -- and Barbara was well aware of it. She made certain to rub her breasts on me while she escorted me in and out of the changing area, too.

The older saleswomen had backed off totally -- the place was collecting customers and the customers were buying and no one was complaining. Several women left early, scandalized, but the others tended to orbit the fringes, looking wistful. At least one woman who had left in a huff during the early going drifted back in through the door and hesitantly joined the flow.

Red and Mike were watching the drone feeds -- and Red, who was outside across the street sitting on a bench, laughed regularly. Cheryl's take on things wasn't clear...

The circus probably went on for forty-five minutes -- and seemed to be a larger draw than the other store. Barbara made a point of asking me about my tastes in women, especially 'full-figured gals.' I let her know that I took my women on a case-by-case basis, but she'd made a favorable impression. On the other hand, I didn't let out any contact information...

Rachel bought between two hundred fifty and three hundred dollars' worth of this and that -- which was fine. Alisha picked up a couple of things, too. But the attitude when we hit the door was totally different than when we entered -- and that was what we wanted. A minor sensation would put us on the map...

I asked Red over the comm link whether he thought we should do the after-action review on the way to the restaurant or go to the rooms first -- and he suggested the latter. Rachel agreed, indicating that the girls needed to change clothes, so we headed up to the rooms. I went over to the room the police were using and Red, Mike and I discussed the evening while the girls changed clothes in the suite. When we got the call that the girls were ready, I led Red and Mike back to the suite.

Woo hoo! What a treat! Rachel was in this top with a zig-zag neckline that was off the shoulder on one side and occasionally gave you a peek of her nipple on the other and a skirt slit on one side to the waist -- and no panties, naturally, and no bra for that matter. Shannon was in someone's wild idea of a mock schoolgirl uniform. The blouse was a variant on a halter, I guess -- it was white, backless, but had a shirt collar, then the neckline plunged to below her bellybutton, as if it was an unbuttoned shirt. All this then finally circled her waist, low over her skirt, which was the obligatory plaid, but was maybe nine inches long. White nylon knee-highs tucked into buckle shoes that were round-toed, but had two inch heels. Cheryl was in a similar top, all in black leather, over a black leather skirt, high heels and black nylons with the stripe up the back. Alisha wore a white lacy halter that draped low and loose between her breasts, but had a white panel behind it that moderated the neckline, a black flared skirt, and sandals with a bit of a heel and straps that ran up her calves, crossing several times. "We're under-dressed!" I told the guys. The men had suit coats, at least ... I conferred with the AI and we ended up settling up on a nice replicated grey silk suit and a shirt and tie, delivered by transporter along with a new pair of dress shoes. Then I had to change before we could move on to dinner, Rachel clucking and messing with my shirt collar while we awaited the elevator.

"I can't go out like this!" Shannon whined. "It's too..."

"Hot?" I supplied, grasping her shoulders and locking eyes with her. "You can and you will, Sweetheart -- because you must. I realize that you're not used to it, but you want to look good for me, don't you?" I pulled her in and kissed her. She nodded, embarrassed, when I backed off, and Rachel went at her.

"Come on, Shan! You're wearing panties, right? I don't see any nipples! Everything is covered, more or less! What are you gonna do when you have to run around in nothing but a collar and leash?"

Shannon frowned at her. "You're the exhibitionist, Rache!"

"Well, you're one, too, now. Get used to it. You want to put your best foot forward for our man, don't you?"

"Yeah..." Shannon was hangdog, but game.

Red and Cheryl had gone out in advance, so we didn't appear to be together, and Mike and Alisha were to follow. One thing we'd discussed while waiting was movement back and forth between the rooms, which did not have connecting doors. If there was an Earth First cell that occasionally operated in the hotel and they had members on the staff, they might have access to hotel surveillance. The AI reported that the hotel's network had been penetrated and spot outages were being used to cover movements between the rooms, but I noted that such things left their own marks. The AI reported that replacement footage would be dummied up and inserted, but had two additional options, one of which was delivery of a transporter pad to the police surveillance room and the other was replacement of a couple of paintings on the walls of the rooms with what amounted to ultra flat-panel video screens to allow for video conferencing between the rooms. The plan was for the AI to obfuscate surveillance so that a team could transport down to our suite and install equipment there, then slip down the hall and deliver equipment to the police standby room while we were out. Everything seemed to be in hand...

Red and Cheryl were already seated when we arrived and we had to take what we could get due to crowding. As a result, we were on the other side of the restaurant. Fortunately, when Mike and Alisha arrived, they were able to get seating two booths over. Given the fact that the drones were up and running, we had pretty good coverage, physical and visual.

Rachel sat across from me in the booth, playing footsie and keeping up a constant stream of happy chatter, distracting Shannon, who was regularly trying to climb under my suit coat when some guy eyed her as he passed. She was EXTREMELY shy about the outfit she was wearing, even though everyone else loved it. I probably didn't help things by occasionally sliding a hand into the gape of her blouse to cup a breast or tweak a nipple, but the intent was that we get noticed and Shannon's squeaks of protest and embarrassment and Rachel's titters did that. We got some looks -- some amusement from some and annoyance from others, generally split by sex -- but no violent reaction to our presence or activities.

The meal finished -- don't ask me what I had, because all I remember of the meal is Rachel's giggles and her bare foot in my crotch and the look and feel of Shannon's right breast -- we moved to the lounge, again as three parties with Red and Cheryl in the lead.

The lounge had a DJ and a band and the band was halfway decent. We settled into a large booth along the wall and Mike and Alisha took a table nearby; Red and Cheryl had the primary surveillance position again while Mike and Alisha took on close-in coverage. I alternated trips to the dance floor with my girls for the slow dances and took them both onto the floor for fast ones more often than not. Mike and Alisha were probably on the floor seventy percent of the time that I was, but it was a short trip to exhaustion so I throttled back in order not to appear superhuman. They gravitated in close regularly and after ninety minutes or so I noticed that Alisha's halter seemed to be a lot more revealing when she would turn toward me and smile and make her jugs jounce. I said something to Rachel and she tittered.

"She removed the modesty panel in that top, so now it's just loose lace..."

"She's certainly into the spirit of things," I muttered and Rachel snorted, eyeing me as if I was dense.

As we came off the floor, I muttered to Mike, "Alisha is certainly playing her part well..."

Mike whispered back, "I'm not sure she's playing, Scott. Not sure at all..."

I was dumbfounded! Certainly, it was a compliment. Still, Alisha knew, didn't she? I hit up the AI on our private channel, 'Do the police know my actual CAP score?'

<You declared it to a uniformed policeman outside the restaurant yesterday, but if there is a record, it is on paper, not electronic. The circumstances were such that, not having verified same, a policeman would probably not have documented it. The Civil Service representative who authorized your pickup verified that you were citizen-class, but did not relate a score.>

'What are the chances that Alisha knows my actual score?'

<You would probably characterize them as 'slim.' What is the issue?>

'She may be offering herself as a concubine.'

<She has some excellent scores... > The AI presented them over the implant as a separate data stream. <Officer Bates is also well-presented, but there are issues... > Cheryl's sexual preference stood out -- Mike was right in that she was on the lesbian side of bisexual.

'I may want to misrepresent my actual score on the low side as a test, ' I noted.

<A sensible tactic, > the AI agreed. <Is the woman Alisha Thorndyke acceptable?>

'Yes, actually. But I'm a little concerned that I might not be picky enough.'

<The personal preference is important. From a CAP perspective, your selections to date have been excellent. Humans tend to believe that there are only one or two suitable mates in the pool when the fact is that the actual pool is several magnitudes larger than the perception. As you have already discovered, the compatibility of your personalities is more important than physical issues. It is anticipated that you will have a highly successful harem.>

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