Chapter 19C

I hurried back to the Parkhurst boys before they made up their minds to scuttle off, but they hadn't moved an inch. They'd had a ringside seat for the show and were visibly impressed, as was George.

"Where were we?" I said, raising my zipper to deny them any more entertainment. "Oh yes, no touching unless invited." I grabbed Brad's hand and slapped it sharply.

He reacted like I had broken his fingers, yanking it back and clutching it to his chest.

I shook my finger under Pete's nose. He jerked away like it was the barrel of a gun.

"Admiring is OK. Leering is not." I told him. "Now you boys run along and play. I want to finish my lunch with George here so we can make-out some more. If that's OK with you, sweetie?" I asked, turning to George.

George managed not to burst out laughing long enough to say, "Sure."

When Brad and Pete had gone, George had a question.

"Do you do that all the time?"

"What?" I wasn't playing innocent. I just didn't want to answer the wrong question.

"That! Beating up rapists, nabbing shoplifters, and slapping down bullies."

"I suppose." I had hoped it was going to a narrower question than that. Five hours with George had shown him a lot more than I wanted.

"You forgot saving kitty-cats from tall trees!" I reminded him helpfully. I wanted to get him away from thinking about the more violent stuff. It didn't work.

"Right. That too. At least you don't go out destroying tanks, like The Dragon."

There was a really uncomfortable silence after that. I forced a laugh and desperately tried to think of some way to change the subject without it looking like I was changing the subject.

"Hoo! That'll be the day. Listen, while we're here, do you mind if I go try on some bikinis? Summers coming up and I'm going to need some new swimsuits." I would have suggested going lingerie shopping, but that might have been too obvious.

"No, I don't mind," he said, smiling vacantly. Either the SuperDuperCheeseburger had got to his brain or the prospect of an opportunity to ogle totally derailed his train of thought.

Boys are so predictable. Even though they've seen you in the buff, the idea of watching you model a swimsuit still gets them all excited. Before he could remember what we had been talking about, I dragged him off to look at swimwear.

I actually did need some inspiration to help me expand my personal line of skinwear, so it wasn't a complete ruse. We went through a couple of department stores, but there wasn't anything there that I hadn't already seen. Then we tried one of the smaller shops around near the shoe-repair place and the tanning salon.

The name of the shop was Anything Goes, and that seemed to fit the place nicely. They sold clubwear, swimwear, and lingerie; all of it a good deal sexier than what you could find in the more mainstream stores out on the concourse. Some of their things were pretty sexy even by my standards, so I spent more time looking around than I should have.

As I browsed, George got antsy. For some reason he was uncomfortable standing between a display of lace push-up, demi-bras and a rack of Brazilian-cut thongs. His eyes kept darting all over like he was afraid something would jump up and bite him. His nervousness was infectious, and I had serious second-thoughts about the idea of taking him shopping with me.

"Why don't you go wait over there, George?" I suggested, pointing out the bench against the wall next to the fitting room. "I'll find something to model for you."

George was gone before I could blink.

I looked through a rack of bustiers and teddies, some of which would have looked great on me if they had been anywhere close to my size. I had just moved on to the swimwear when the salesgirl decided I was a real customer and got off her stool.

"Something I can help you with?" she asked, almost cracking her gum. She had the figure of a stick and accentuated it by wearing a day-glo tube-top and a tight miniskirt. I had a similar outfit, but I thought mine looked much better on me than hers did on her.

I couldn't very well tell her that I was scouting for ideas I could steal, and we both knew there was likely to be little in my size on the racks. I pointed to a display of different-shaped patches and said, "What are those?"

"Nipple Covers. I don't know why we have those. They don't sell and they would look terrible on me. The owner ordered them because she saw some girls wearing them at spring break over in Lauderdale and she thought they might catch on.

"Like pasties? You mean..."

"Yeah," she said, finally cracking the wad of gum. "You stick 'em on over your nipples instead of wearing a top. They come in three different sizes. We've got hearts, stars, circles, solids, patterns, even some with rhinestones. The sticky stuff will last several wearings if you put them back to back and keep them in the bag. Sorry, but you can't try them on or return them."

"That's OK. I understand."

The idea of stick-on clothes was a new one for me. But it was a perfect way to get around the problem of simulating straps that never looked right because they had to lie flat against my skin.

"I hate strings and stuff," I confided. "Always coming untied, you know? This might just be the thing for me. Do you have anything else like this?

"Well... ," she said, furrowing her brow and thinking hard. She looked like I had asked her to derive a square-root in her head. "We do have those bottoms over there. They haven't been selling either." She seemed to be warming up to the idea that she might be able to move some of the more unpopular stock.

The bottoms were like nothing I had ever seen. They were just a curved plastic frame with acrylic fabric stretched over it. You clipped it on between your legs and it stayed in place by holding on above the curve of your butt and above your mound in front. You really had to have a flat tummy and a small butt to wear the thing. I qualified on both counts, so I was fascinated with it right away.

My jumper was tight enough for me to get an idea of the size by putting a couple of them on over it, and to my surprise, they had an Extra-Small in bone white that looked like it would actually fit.

Anything off the rack that fit me, I had to buy. Mom would totally understand. I picked out a set of white star-shaped pasties too, and asked her to ring it all up.

I handed over my credit card without a thought, and I even handed over my badge and ID without being too self-conscious. This clerk wasn't quite ready to accept it at face value, though.

"I'm gonna have to check this," she said, edging toward the phone.

"Please do," I told her, confidently. "Ask for Lieutenant Grogan or Sheriff Foster. Either can confirm my identity."

I looked over at George, still grateful for the sanctuary of the small couch. I was glad he wasn't looking over my shoulder at the moment. I was also glad that I hadn't let him hold my fanny-pack as a way of giving him something to do to keep him busy. He might have got curious and peeked inside at a whole lot of things I'd rather he didn't know about. He still hadn't asked me to explain what I was doing with police-grade restraints.

I heard the girl give my name and ask if there was anyone named Grogan there. There was a pause and the rest of the conversation was something I really wished I could have heard both sides of.

"Yes. About Deputy Kramer. She's here now. I just... Unhunh. Yes, that's her all right. Well, at the mall. Yes. No! No! God, No! I just wanted to check her ID! What? Yes, sir. No, sir. Yes, sir!"

She put the phone down and stared at it like she was afraid it would jump off the counter and run across the floor on its own. The silence that followed seemed to drag on for a very long time until I finally got up the courage to break it.

"Problem?" I asked.

"He was about to have the whole SWAT Team and half the cops in the county here in five minutes! All I did was say your name and he acted like the world was coming to an end."

"I have got to get a drivers license!" I muttered.

The clerk handed back my badge and ID with an apologetic look. She fumbled through the rest of the transaction with a distracted air.

When I took the bag, I asked if she'd mind if I modeled my purchases for my boyfriend.

"Go ahead," she said, smiling as she looked over at George. "He's cute."

"He's a stud muffin," I said, proudly. I just had to tell somebody.

"Really?"

"Oh, yeah. Big time."

I left the salesgirl to bat her too-long, obviously-fake eyelashes at George and I ducked into the fitting room. I don't know what I expected, but it surprised me when I pushed the saloon-type swinging doors open and discovered that the room was half the size of a shallow clothes-closet. I wasn't even sure if I was tall enough to be completely hidden by the slatted door.

"I guess if you're shopping here, modesty isn't an issue," I thought.

Just so I wouldn't ruin the surprise, I kept my back to the door while I stepped out of my jumper and applied the set of pasties.

They were thick enough to hide the outline of my rings, as well as pretty effectively covering my big nipples. On someone else, they might have covered more, but on me they were just barely larger than my areolas.

The bottoms fit as perfectly as I had hoped. I thought there might be a gap in the crotch, and there was, just a bit, but not enough to be noticeable. And it felt so deliciously cool to be wearing something that only touched me in a couple of spots. It was nice to know I had an alternative to wear to the beach. It was wonderful to know that there were fashions that I could simulate almost flawlessly.

When I came out to show it to George, I could tell he liked it right away.

"Oh, wow! That's very nice," he said, quite enthusiastically.

"You like?"

"Oh yeah! Very much!"

I noticed that even the salesgirl was admiring my new swimsuit. If it was the suit she was looking at.

I did a few poses, including one where I put both hands behind my head and cocked my hips to one side that they both seemed to like. While I held that, I saw George shift on the couch like he was uncomfortable. I think both the clerk and I noticed the bulge in his shorts at the same time.

I went back into the fitting room to change back. Through the crack in the door, I saw the girl wander over to George, so I didn't bother taking the white stars off, I just pulled off the clip-on bottoms and pulled back on my jumper, jerking up the zipper and snatching my stuff off the hook.

Even though I had been as quick as I could, when I came out, she was practically sitting in his lap and he seemed happy for the company.

"My own fault," I reminded myself, mentally stamping out the flames of jealousy that rose up in my head. "I'm a blabbermouth."

I put my pack back on and walked over to the couch.

"Ahem. I think you have a customer," I said, pointing toward the front of the shop.

The girl touched George on the arm as she hopped up to go see what she could do for the couple of middle-aged women who had just wandered in. She didn't even look guilty about trying to steal George.

He struggled to his feet and I handed him my bag to cover his 'problem' with while I marched him out of the store. It wasn't until we were out in the corridor that he spoke up.

"You're not jealous, are you?"

"Not at all. Whatever gave you that idea?"

"You're zipper is stuck."

I did a quick check and he was right. I had caught the zipper's teeth in the fabric of the jumper and it was hung well below the appropriate level for a public place. The better part of both white stars were showing and I had 100% cleavage exposure.

I gave a tug on the zipper, but it was stuck fast. Worse, it was below my boobs in a spot where I would need a mirror to see to get it unstuck.

I gave George a pleading look, but he shook his head.

"Remember when you offered to let me parade you around naked?" he asked. "Well, I'm calling your bluff. You stay just like that all the way to the car."

I must have blushed, because my face got very warm all of a sudden. I was embarrassed that I had acted like I did when I saw that salesgirl trying to rub herself on George like a cat in heat. When I thought about how good I felt when I made that offer I felt the warmth spread down my chest to my pussy, and before I knew it, I was the one in heat.

If George wanted me to strut, I would strut my best. It meant he had picked me, and not the floozy — I mean the girl in the shop. It meant he wanted to show me off, and showing off was one of my favorite things.

I shrugged the jumper up so it would be as tight as possible through my crack and around my butt. I rolled my shoulders back to push my boobs up and almost all the way out of the front of the jumper. I straightened my spine and held my head high and put my arm through George's and I strutted proudly down the main concourse of the mall, smiling at everyone we passed.

The rush of the massive afterglow I had going came back to me and I found that I could also tap back into that happy/goofy feeling that gives girls that freshly-fucked look. It was intoxicating.

As we marched along, people noticed. George must have seen the looks, because he slowed down to a leisurely stroll and started grinning.

Moving so slowly meant I could hear more of the comments from passersby, even the confidential whispers. Some were of the 'Oh, my goodness!' sort, in a shocked tone, but most were admiring, even complimentary.

I saw one girl poke her boyfriend in the ribs and ask, accusingly, "You like that? Would you like me to walk around with my boobs out like that?" Her tone slipped from hostile to flattered and she went on, "You really think I'd look good in something like that?"

The answer from her boyfriend was swift and affirmative, "You bet!"

I turned my head to see their faces. The girl's venomous expression faded as she got the implication that her boyfriend thought she could look like me in the right clothes. She looked like she was wondering if she had the courage to strut through the mall with her boobs out.

When we turned a corner in front of McGregors department store, I was stopped by a trio of girls wearing green and white shorts-and-crop-top uniforms bearing the overtly phallic logo of a local men's club.

"That is so hot!" One of them told me.

"Where did you get those stars?" Another asked.

"I've got to have a pair like those!" The third gushed. I think she meant the stars.

"I got them at Anything Goes," I said. "Back that way. Turn right." And I pointed.

All three rushed off, talking excitedly about how they would look in their new pasties.

"You've started a fad," George observed.

"Maybe," I allowed. I tried to remember if any of the nipple covers had had tassels on them.

It was real kick to be out in public with my boobs on display. I felt positively naughty and more than a little bit turned on by the stares of the passing gawkers. I ran a finger over the slick vinyl surface of one of my stars. I could feel my nipple trying to fight its way out and my ring trying to push free, but the adhesive held everything in place remarkably well. I thought that if I didn't get arrested, or asked to leave the premises, this might be one of my better experiences with edgy fashion.

"How are you doing?" I asked, remembering George's condition when we left the shop.

George moved the shopping bag he had been carrying slightly to one side and I could see that his erection was even more obvious now than before.

"Oh, George! Is that because of me?"

"Unhunh! It gets worse every time I look at you."

"We have to do something about that."

"I'm open to suggestions."

"Well, I know what I want to do with it. The question is where can we go?"

"The restroom?"

"Not private enough. This problem may take some time to work out. What if we sneak into that empty store?"

The narrow storefront had been one of those niche specialty shops that kept reinventing itself with a different specialty every few months until the proprietors either ran out of money or ideas. There were generic 'Watch This Space' banners covering the whitewashed plywood panels hiding the dark shop from public view that indicated to me that it was the ideas that ran out first.

I walked casually over to lean on the plywood door and peered into the tiny crack between it and the rest of the panel. It seemed to be held shut with a simple screen-door hook. I pulled a nail file out of my pack and had the door open in seconds.

At the next gap in the traffic into McGregors, we slipped inside.

The place was exactly as it had been the last time I saw it open. Some plastic ferns on either side of a couple of display cases. The cases were empty now. I couldn't remember what had been in them the last time I had passed by during the Christmas shopping crush.

George closed the door and put the hook back on. The lights in the small store were off, but there was a clear panel of glass above the plywood that let in more than enough to see by. I took off my pack and laid it on one of the glass cases. George came over and stood in front of me, staring, unsure what to do next.

I carefully lowered his zipper and pulled down the waistband of his briefs. His hard cock almost jumped out into my hand. It was sticky and hot. When I let go, it stuck out perfectly horizontal, bobbing invitingly.

I yanked down my zipper without thinking and felt it free itself from the bite it had on the jumper. Shrugging it off my shoulders I let it drop, catching it with the heel of one foot while I stepped free with the other. I snatched it and leaned over to lay it on the display case with my pack.

George stared just as hard at my butt as he had at my boobs. It was nice to know that someone liked scrawny rears, so I leaned over the case, spread my feet apart, and went up on my toes to show it to him.

This was apparently the moment he had been waiting for. He stepped up and shoved his hard cock between my legs, raking it through my wet lips and across my clit.

The feel of his hot, hard cock against my pussy made me shake all over for a second.

"Ooooohhh! George!" I cooed. "That feels wonderful."

He pulled back slowly, stroking between my lips and feeling his way to my opening.

I had never had sex in this position before, bent over with my little butt up in the air. Every other boy had been too tall to be able to stand behind me with our hips at the same level. The novelty of it amplified the anticipation and I started to get really wet.

The knowledge that hundreds of people were passing by just outside of our hiding place added a lot, too. Workmen might walk in, or anybody might hear us and put an eye to the crack and see me bent over the display case with my boobs flattened on the glass.

I decided to be nasty and tease George a bit. Maybe I was just trying to rationalize it because of the way I got jealous earlier, but at the time I told myself it was just to spice things up with George. This would be about the umpteenth time we had screwed today and I didn't want things to get boring.