Chapter 2

Another unemployment benefit interview came and went. The clerk had started making ominous hints about how it might be time for me consider openings in other fields, and just happened to mention they could help with my retraining.

I reluctantly decided I couldn’t avoid the town centre any longer: I was running short of decent clothes, particularly the basics, and the shopping centre happened to host the best stores in town for men’s clothing. I deliberately chose a time of day when it would be less crowded than usual, and even then I was constantly looking around, anxious to avoid friends of my late wife, Lynda, or people I knew from work.

I almost missed it, the flash of distinctive white and yellow. Keeping my distance so that she wouldn’t see me, I started following the girl. I lied to myself that it was to find out more about her.

After a few minutes she turned a corner into a dimly lit corridor between two shops, leading towards an entrance to the shopping centre’s staff-only section. When I turned the corner after her, she was nowhere to be seen. I was simultaneously disappointed and relieved.

“Naughty, naughty,” came a melodious, unaccented voice from behind me. “It was rude to follow me.”

When I was confident that I was still safely enveloped in my own skin, I turned and found the girl behind me, looking just as I’d remembered her, including those captivating hazel eyes. How on earth had she got behind me?

She smiled. “Follow me.”

Strong, unseen, masculine hands frogmarched me after the girl. I tried to speak but I couldn’t, or rather I wasn’t allowed to. The girl led me along the corridor she had previously appeared to turn into. There were no shoppers in this section so it was just me and the girl.

At the end of the corridor, just before a staff-only door secured by an electronic keypad, there was a bench seat up against the wall. The hands forced me to sit. I tried to protest that staff might come past at any moment but I couldn’t speak.

As before, the girl positioned herself in front of me, just out of reach. My knees were forced apart then my jeans were unzipped and my swelling dick fished out of my underwear. I guessed what was coming and the soft, feminine hands didn’t disappoint me, stroking my dick to full hardness.

The girl undid her top button as the hands gently jacked me. Then her second button then the third. Again braless.

The hands stopped jacking me, leaving one grasped around the base of my cock. When the fourth button was unfastened, exposing the girl’s cute innie, something soft and fluffy swiped across my dick. Was that invisible hair? Then something hot and moist engulfed the head of my dick, and an invisible tongue stroked my sensitive frenulum. Copious pre-cum dribbled down my skyward-pointing dick.

As girl unfastened her fifth button, revealing her nicely-rounded stomach, the invisible mouth continued to lick and suck. It was certainly proficient, the gentle tongue teasing of my frenulum alone was hard enough to get my motor revving. My dick was so hard it was almost painful, and despite being held immobile by the unseen hands, I found myself desperately trying to thrust my hips upwards.

The girl’s hand hovered over her sixth button; I was about to see the girl’s panties! Would there be a visible camel-toe? From what I’d seen of her nicely toned legs, I bet she had a thigh gap.

Two more mouths joined the fray, each enveloping a ball and gently pulling on it while sucking hard. Cum started pulsing from my dick, if anything reaching even greater heights than the previous time, before descending back onto my jeans.

Even while my dick was still spurting, the girl disappeared and the hands released me. Gasping for breath, I slowly realised there were now two burly shopping centre guards standing in front of me.

“Get up, you’re coming with us,” growled guard no 1.

“Sex offenders’ register for sure,” said guard no 2.

“And put that thing away,” ordered guard no 1, indicating my rapidly softening dick.

I’ve always believed that telling the truth is the best course of action, no matter how unusual the circumstances. That way, I could never be caught out in a lie and, sure enough, I was respected for my honesty and plain-speaking by my former work colleagues.

I quickly made myself decent, apart from the cum-stained jeans, and stood up. “I can explain...,” I started.

“Save it for the boss,” said guard no 1.

I was led through the staff-only entrance and into the shopping centre’s security office where a suit-wearing managerial type was sitting.

“We got the pervert,” said guard no 2.

“And he wants to explain,” sneered guard no 1.

“Before I call the police, what have you got to say for yourself?” the manager asked condescendingly.

“I was raped,” I said, less assertively than I intended because I knew how unbelievable that sounded.

“The whole episode was caught by the security camera covering the staff entrance,” said guard no 2. “It’s the hi-def one we had installed against staff pilfering. I know what I saw.”

“Can we see the video?” I begged. “It will prove what happened to me.”

The security guards looked at the manager and he nodded. There was some tinkering with the manager’s laptop then it was all ready to play my incriminating footage.

We watched as the video showed me walking stiffly into view, then sort of collapsing back onto the bench seat. I realised the security camera had been right opposite me but I hadn’t noticed it because of the girl, the girl who hadn’t been captured on the video even though she had been standing directly between me and the camera.

Actually that worked in my favour because there was nothing to obscure the view. The video showed me apparently staring into the distance, then my legs parting.