It’s Monday and work is agonizingly slow. I’m the only staff today and I might as well not even be there. Nobody is really browsing books, nobody is really selling them. Usually when things are slow I clean, organize, go over the schedules, or read. I was reading, but the written words surrounding me, both wise and beautiful, are ignored. My nose is all but pressed up against the computer screen as I read erotica. I’m dressed in a mid-length frilly summer skirt and a see through blouse. My modesty is kept by my new, also see through, black lace camisole. The two together hint and entice but they do not show anything to random eyes unless they look long and hard. The only thing between the light fabric of my skirt and my bare skin is my tuft of trimmed pubic hair.
It doesn’t matter; I could be stark naked and fingering myself and nobody would know. Even the traffic on the street outside seems to be sporadic and sparse. My customers over the past few hours consisted of some frat-boys—not really my type—looking at sports books and a friendly, elderly lady looking for religious stuff and asking me if I’ve found Jesus. I didn’t even know He was lost! Otherwise I was all alone and mostly hidden by shelves and stacks of books.
While I should have taken the time to edify myself or at least read up on my grammar rules, I, instead, found myself edging my still-pulsating pussy through the entire morning and early afternoon. I had reduced myself to a quivering mass of pre-orgasmic lust and I loved it. My prior weekend kept playing in my mind as I read. I projected myself into the heroines of the stories I read, or pictured myself being the “poor victim” of the manly lust in the stories written by men. When lunch time came, I debated locking the door and fingering myself to as many orgasms as I possibly could in my forty-five minutes, or teasing myself by delaying gratification by going to get a drink or maybe a nice, light salad.
While I have no qualms about a drink or two on shift, I decided that I’d prefer a nice cup of tea. The little Boho Coffee Shoppe just down the street has lots of nice flavors. “I’ll be right back!” I cheerily addressed the tomes and sauntered off.
I entered the coffee shoppe and found nobody else there other than the woman that manages the place, Stephanie. We greeted each other by name.
“Your usual?” she asked, setting down the mass of papers that she was pouring over.
“Earl Grey, hot.” I chimed in my best Star-Trek-Geek voice.
She quickly poured, added the amount of sugar she knows I like, and slid it over. “Fresh pot,” she smiled out and then went back to furrowing her brow over the paperwork.
I thanked her, not getting anything much of a response, and sat near the back corner, facing the far wall. As I took my first sip another woman walked in. She was younger than I, probably in her middle twenties, bleached blond with just a hint of roots showing, and she was obviously braless beneath her roomy t-shirt from the way her unbound breasts moved delightfully when she walked or moved. The swell and shape of her breasts was accentuated by the small backpack slung on her shoulders. She wore ragged black tennis shoes and a matching ragged school girl style tartan miniskirt. I immediately nicknamed her “Slutty Lolita” in my mind and admired her toned figure. I made a mental note to find a similar tartan miniskirt that flared out in pleats like that; probably not that short, though. She waved to Steph and lightly slapped a few dollars on the counter and went over to the self-serve station.
She pumped the coffee from the carafe into a cup and I watched as she slowly pushed and then depressed the plunger. She bent forward over the sugar section and spooned out some raw sugar. Her short skirt rose up just enough that I could see the swell of her ass cheek peeking out. In my presently aroused condition it had me practically drooling. I covered my involuntary gasp of appreciation by sipping my tea and trying to bury my nose in my phone.
She turned, facing me, while stirring her coffee. With every stirring movement her breasts swayed freely. I forced my eyes back to my phone all while wondering if they felt as delightful as they looked. Looking up a few seconds later, her eyes caught mine and she smiled a simply devilish smile at me and seated herself across from me. She unslung her pack, letting it drop to the floor with a thud, and bent over and started rummaging through it. Her legs canted outwards, giving me an almost unobstructed view of them from the top of her thighs all the way down to her ratty tennis shoes.
Her bending down was killing me inside. The back of her skirt has risen up as she practically buried herself in the backpack. I wished she had chosen a seat at a different angle; I was wondering if her behind looked as shapely as it did from the side. Finding her prize, she sat upright with her breasts jiggling in response to her movement, holding a tattered book aloft. I recognized the cover; it was one of the erotica-for-women novels that have become so popular.
Sitting back against the bench she sat at, she smiled, sipped her coffee, and began to read. I mimicked her actions and buried my head back into my phone, attempting to not stare at her blatant sultriness. I managed a paragraph or so and glanced towards her. She was reading, not looking at me. Her one leg was idly swaying back and forth as she read, seemingly unaware that I could practically see up her miniskirt. One elbow was resting on the table, holding her book, and the other hand was twining a lock of her hair around her finger and then unwinding it.
I forced my eyes down and noted that I could almost see up her skirt as her knee rocked back and forth. Lecturing myself to not look, I ran my eyes to another paragraph of my own erotica. My eyes scanned the words but nothing registered. I looked up again. Her other leg had lazily leaned outward and her nipples were obviously hardening under the emotional impact of whatever steamy passage I imagined she might be reading. I watched her intently, feeling the heat well up inside me. Her mouth idly chewed her finger-intwined hair.
I tried to resist as hard as I could, which was not at all, before I let my eyes gaze between her legs. I wondered what sort of panties such a brazen woman might be wearing. At first glance I thought that she was wearing flesh-colored panties. A more intense scrutiny revealed that she was without any panties whatsoever. I was similarly clad beneath my own skirt, but mine was modestly enticing, hers was scandalously short. Feeling my juices begin to flow I redoubled my efforts to mind my own business.
I managed exactly one-half or one entire sentence before I looked again. Her leg had stopped rocking inward and outward but her legs remained open. She was just finishing a drink of her coffee and her hand traveled under the table and rested on the inside of her thigh as she read. I tore my eyes away feeling my heart begin to pound at the visual delight in front of me. There could be no chance that she was unaware that I could see her shaven bare pussy. She had to know because I do things like that myself and I’m fully aware. I tried to mind my own business and hadn’t even managed to find the spot I had left off at before I had to look again.
Her nipples were sticking out even more than before. I didn’t want to offend her by staring but the sneaking suspicion that she was showing off on purpose consumed me. If the situation had been reversed I would have known. She didn’t take her eyes off of her book but her fingers starting tracing her slit between her legs. I forgot all about pretending to read my own erotica as I watched her from across the coffee shoppe.
Lost in her own feelings, her fingers ran up and down, teasing herself a little. Her long black nail delicately circled around her clit once, twice, three times, and then back down. Her actions visually rewarded me by giving her body a very slight shudder. I fought down my own shuddering from seeing her do this. Suddenly her hand left its heavenly position and she moved and let out a sigh, shuffling in her seat. I quickly bent my head forward to look as if I was lost in my phone, but my eyes titled up.
She took another drink and turned the page in her book. Her fingers went to her nipple and gave it a squeeze before going back between her legs. Her movements caused her hips to slide forward a little and her legs were now open wide. She didn’t tease herself anymore; her finger moved up and down between her folds and parted her labia. Stealing a quick glance to Stephanie and ignoring me completely she seemed satisfied that she wasn’t under scrutiny from the management and began to flick her clit in an up and down, come-hither, motion. Her teeth clenched her bottom lip.
I was hypnotized by her brazen actions. I just stared at her, smiling. Then her eyes left her book and she stared right at me. I felt awkward and embarrassed. Rather than act ashamed I let my tongue snake out and I licked my bottom lip as I met her stare. This caused her body to quiver and she thrust her hips towards me and increased the pace.
I knew this game! Meeting her gaze I looked around quickly and then opened my legs brazenly to show her that I also wasn’t wearing any panties. She let the book drop and clutched at her own breast through the t-shirt. Her head started bobbing back and forth in little pre-orgasmic motions and her eyes were riveted to my pussy. I took a finger and traced my now-pouting labia as she stared at me. I then slowly took my now-wet finger and traced my juices along the rim of my cup.
Her face was turning red and her entire body was starting to convulse up and down. I took a sip of my tea, licking my own nectar form the rim, and that seemed to push her over the edge. Her body racked back and forth and she convulsed up and down. I had to suppress a titter as she bit on her lip, throwing her head from side to side, trying to not make any noise. When her quiet but intense-seeming orgasm subsided, she looked me straight in the eyes and drained most of her coffee.
She stood up, replaced the book into her backpack, straightened out her clothing, and walked her cup to the counter. “Thank you,“ she addressed the manager but stared directly at me. “Your coffee is orgasmic!”
I chuckled a bit at that and looked her over. I also finally remembered to draw my knees together. I winked at her and we shared a mutual, unspoken moment.
“See you Wednesday, same time,” she said to Steph, still staring right at me.
“Sure thing,” she replied back not even looking up from her paperwork.
Then she walked out, glancing back to me , smiling, before she exited.
I waited for almost three entire seconds before I sprang up from my table and chased after her. One would think that bleached blond nymphets in short schoolgirl skirts would be easy to find but she was nowhere to be seen. Crestfallen but in a sexual fervor I ran back to my store and locked the door behind me.
I threw myself down behind the closest shelf row, shielding myself from prying eyes and brought myself off quick and hard. Why did I not return her display with my own? I’ve done things like that plenty of times myself! I replayed the encounter back in my mind, getting off once more. This time, though, we came together in my mind.
When Wednesday comes I’ll know exactly what to do. For now, it’s back to work. At least I’ll have something to occupy my mind for the rest of the day.
