“I can't, I have a real business meeting today.”
She hid her disappointment and wondered if Dave would be free. No, she thought—he'll be swamped with customers. Too bad.
Nevertheless, at lunchtime she went to his store and was shocked to find it locked and deserted! Several women were milling around and she spotted one of them, a tall blonde who looked vaguely familiar. Perhaps she had been a customer when Marti had worked in the store. She asked her, “What's going on? What happened to Dave?”
“I don't know. Last time I was in the store, he said he was moving to a bigger space, but he didn't say where! Or when he'd reopen! I really need another bra! I can't wait until he gets his shit together!”
Marti recognized the look of panic and almost told her to start wearing her Stunners all day and night, but kept her mouth shut. Let her figure it out. Stepping closer to the door, she noticed several slips of paper taped to the glass or stuck in the crack. She pulled one out.
"Where is your new store? Call me. Susan" followed by a telephone number.
Marti imagined they were all like that. They were probably from women like herself a few weeks ago who had been desperate to buy enough bras and panty sets to wear every day of the week. So where did Dave go? It wasn't like him to just disappear like that. This was his livelihood. He wanted to be the most famous bra designer in the country. She couldn't believe he wouldn't leave a forwarding address.
“He'll probably put an ad in the paper when he's ready to re-open,” she assured the blonde. She couldn't help but let her eyes drop to her breasts, which seemed to heave with barely repressed sexuality. She had an image of the woman's panty-covered ass up, waiting for Marti to strike it and her fingers toyed with her belt. She licked her lips.
The blonde seemed to recognize a kindred spirit and she said, “What color are you wearing today?”
“Black.”
“Ohh, I don't have a black bra yet. I'd like to see how it looks.”
Marti tipped her head and moved away from the others and the blonde followed. “There's a hotel around the corner. I could show you there.” The words came out before she realized what she was saying. She almost laughed it off, but the blonde nodded.
“Yes, I'd like to see. What size do you wear?”
“Thirty-eight D. Although I think I might need thirty-eight double-D next.”
“You too?” They were walking now, leaving the other women behind to stare after them. “My boobs seemed to have grown too—they went from a thirty-four B to a thirty-six C in just a few weeks.”
“Dave said it was how the bras fit, I guess.”
They arrived at the Peabody and checked in. They split the cost of the room. Taking the key, they went upstairs without a word. Marti didn't even know her name and didn't really want to. She liked the anonymity of it.
She unlocked the door and stepped through and the blonde closed it behind her.
“What color do you have on?” Marti asked her.
The blonde unbuttoned her blue blouse to reveal a blue Stunner underneath. Marti could've guessed. She didn't say anything, she just nodded until the blonde had unbuttoned her blouse all the way and pulled the sides apart.
“And you?”
Marti unbuttoned her blouse and soon they were standing there, five feet apart, showing each other their bras. If she wasn't caught in the grip of her Stunners, she might've found this embarrassing—or comical.
“And the panties match?” Marti said.
The blonde unzipped her skirt and let it slide down her legs. Marti could tell at once that the woman shaved her pubic hair as well—the pale skin was obvious behind the sheer panel. The blonde nodded and Marti unbuckled her belt and unzipped her skirt and let it fall. The blonde licked her lips and stared at her crotch.
“I like the black.”
They took a step toward each other. Marti had never been with a woman before but it didn't seem to be an issue. She needed sex—any type of sex. What was more, she needed to whip this woman and be whipped by her. She bent down and pulled the belt from her skirt and doubled it over.
“I have a sudden urge to whip your bottom.”
The blonde nodded. “And I want to whip yours ... And those big tits of yours.”
Marti felt her knees go weak. She handed over the belt. The woman took it and gave an experimental slap to her palm. Marti shivered. Without warning, the blonde lashed out and struck Marti's left breast with the belt, causing her to cry out.
“Too hard?”
“No. God no.”
She struck her again, a backhand that caught her right breast. Marti felt her panties growing damp. She stood there, her tits thrust out while the blonde struck her again and again. Finally, she held the belt out.
“My turn.”
Marti took it and made a gesture toward the bed. The blonde flopped down on her stomach, her feet on the floor, ass up invitingly. It was just as she had imagined it when they were standing outside Dave's store. She reared back and slapped the woman's pale globes through her blue panties and watched as a red line appeared. The blonde was stoic and took the blow well.
She struck her again and again, leaving marks each time. Now she could hear the woman gasping. She fell on her and pressed her fingers up against her crotch, noting how wet she was.
“Not yet,” the woman gasped and rolled over. “Hit my tits! Hit my tits!”
Marti obliged, leaving several marks. Then it was her turn and the blonde struck her bottom several times, making her moan as she felt her orgasm rise. When she felt the blonde's fingers slipping under her panties and down to her clit, she raised her butt up to help her. As soon as she rubbed her clit, she exploded.
After that they were a blur of blue and black underwear set against pale skin as they rolled around on the bed, pleasuring each other. But neither one removed their underwear. To reach the nipples, the cups were pulled down. To lick a pussy, the gusset of the panties was pulled aside. Marti lost all track of time. When at last she looked up at the bedside clock, her tongue tired and her hair mussed up, she noted it was almost one-thirty.
She was late!
“My boss is going to kill me!” she exclaimed. She rolled off the bed and grabbed her clothes.
“That was nice.”
“Yeah, and I'm not even a lesbian!” Marti agreed.
“Neither am I!”
They both laughed at that. They knew it was the Stunners causing them to experiment. There was nothing wrong with it. It was natural.
“Funny how we like the same thing.”
“Yeah.” Now that her senses had partially returned, Marti was sorry she had brought the blonde here. What if they had run into Steve?
“I'd like to see you again, if you're willing.”
“Yeah, I'd like that. But maybe at my place—I can't afford the Peabody on my salary.”
“Oh? You live alone?”
“Yes.”
“Good, because I don't think my husband would understand!”
Marti carried her clothes into the bathroom and cleaned herself up. The blonde followed her right in, unconcerned about their partial nudity. As they got dressed, Marti asked, “So, what's your name?”
“Claire.”
Marti froze. No, it couldn't be. “Uh, I'm Marti.”
“Marti ... that name sounds familiar...” Her eyes widened. “You're not...”
“And you're not...”
It was so weirdly coincidental that both burst out in embarrassed laughter. “I hope you don't plan to share this with Steve,” Claire said.
“Oh god no!” But she decided not to share the fact that she was fucking him.
“Maybe we, uh, shouldn't pursue this. You know, because of our circumstances.”
Marti nodded. “Maybe you're right.” But that's not what she wanted to do and she could tell from Claire's eyes she felt the same. They decided to drop it for now.
When she got back to the office, Steve was frowning. “You're late!”
“Well, okay. Just don't make a habit of it.”
“I won't, Mr. Harris.” But the look she gave him said, You probably want to punish me for that.
He smiled and nodded.
[Back to Table of Contents]
* * *
Chapter Eight
Marti thought she could stop anytime, but now was realizing she had gone too far. She was acting more slutty and dangerous by the week and her conscience was nowhere to be found. Her liaison with Claire should've sent off major alarm bells but not only did it not, she met the woman again at her apartment during lunch the following Wednesday, when Claire's girls were at school. Like before, they had whipped each other into a frenzy before bringing each other off with fingers and tongue, all while wearing their Stunners.
Afterward, Marti shared her secret, because Claire was still upset that she only had two pairs of Stunners to wear. When she stepped into the shower with her underwear on, Claire stared at her.
“What are you doing?”
“This way, I don't have to ever stop wearing them,” Marti explained. “Plus, they get washed.”
“Huh.”
Marti peeked from behind the curtain. “You want to join me?”
She shook her head. “I don't have anything to wear home!”
Marti wasn't about to share a set of hers so the matter was dropped. But she suspected that Claire would soon find a way to stretch her outfits all week long with just her two sets by following Marti's example.
On Monday and Thursday, Marti met Steve at the Peabody, fucking his brains out and getting deliciously whipped. He asked about why she never wanted to remove her underwear and she blurted, Ask your wife. Instead, she said, “Once you have them on, you never want to take them off.”
“Still, it's weird. I'd like to make love to you without underwear sometime.”
Marti shuddered at the thought of removing her precious Stunners.
* * * *
The biggest problem facing the Stunners fan club was no one had yet found where Dave had moved his shop. They checked the ads and stopped by the empty store regularly to share whatever information they had. They exchanged email addresses and phone numbers so they could keep in touch. Marti was angry with Dave for not telling her—she thought they were friends! After all, she had fucked him twice! That should count for something. She realized she didn't even know his last name and cursed her luck.
“Maybe we should hire a private eye,” said Barbara, the black woman that Marti had spotted in Dave's store before. “You know, track him down.”
The others nodded. “Yeah,” piped up Sherry, a short blonde. “He could check the city records or something.”
“Hell, we could do that ourselves,” Marti said, cursing herself for not thinking of it sooner.
They turned to her. “Are you willing to do that?” asked Sherry.
“Sure. Give me a couple days.”
The group parted and Marti returned to the office, her mind buzzing. She called city hall and got the clerk in charge of business records and pretended to be a customer who was owed a refund. She asked the woman to track down the owner of the shop or at least give her the owner's full name.
“I only knew him as Dave,” she told her.
“Oh, yes, I've found it. Dave Smithers took out the business license for that place. But it was a sublet, according to this. I don't know for how long—maybe it was just for the two months.”
That puzzled Marti. “Why?”
“I have no idea,” the clerk told her. “Maybe he was doing some test-marketing.”
“But how can we find him? Surely he left a forwarding address! I mean, his store was so successful, he had to have planned to open a larger one somewhere!”
“Again, I have no idea. You might check with the owner of the building, Gramercy Realty. They have an office on W. Nineteenth St.”
“Okay, thanks.” Pleased, Marti made plans to visit the office Tuesday during lunch. Unless, of course, Steve wanted to take her to the Peabody. In her mind, sex always came first.
Steve had a meeting at lunch, so Marti grabbed a cab outside her building and was dropped off in front of the real estate office. She went in and found the Gramercy Realty suite and smiled at the young, brunette receptionist. For a brief moment, Marti visualized the girl writhing underneath the lash of her belt, begging for more. She had to give herself a little shake to erase the image.
“Can I help you?” the receptionist asked.
“Yes, I'm trying to track down a renter of one of your sublets, the, uh, Stunners lingerie store in Chelsea?”
“Why?”
“The owner, a man named Dave Smithers, owes me a refund and now I find the store closed and empty. I'd rather deal with him directly before I have to bring in the authorities,” she threatened. “You know how that can get messy.”
The woman pursed her lips. “Well, let me talk to my boss. Will you excuse me a minute?” She got up and left the desk.
Marti waited, her fingers tapping on the counter.
The woman returned with an overweight man with a reddened face and dirty hair. “What's this all about?” he demanded.
“I'm trying to find Dave Smithers, the man who rented your place on West Thirty-Second Street for two months. If you could put me in touch with him, we could avoid any negative publicity.”
He frowned. “Listen, lady, I don't have to give out any information about my tenants.” He paused. “But that guy...” He shook his head. “That guy agreed to sublet the shop for six months and he skips out on me!”
“Do you know where he went to? I thought he was going to open a bigger store. It was very successful, you know.”
“Yeah, I heard. He even asked me about other spaces I might have. We were gonna do a transfer of the lease and everything! Fucker. Uh, excuse my language, ma'am.”
“So he's ... vanished?”
“Yeah. I've tried to reach him—his cell phone is disconnected. And I've sent guys around to his apartment but they've gotten nowhere...”
“Can you give me his address?” When she saw his suspicious expression, she hurried on, “I'd like to leave him a note—or at least a note with his landlord.”
The man shrugged. “Normally, I wouldn't, in case you turned out to be a nut job.” He smiled. “But I'd really like to find this guy too. I'll give you his address only if you promise to call and tell me what you find out.”
“Oh thanks! I certainly will!”
“I don't know if he's still there. He might be in Montana for all I know.” He tapped a few keys on the receptionist's computer and rattled off Dave's home address.
“Thank you! I'll let you know if I find him!”
Marti caught a cab out front and had the driver take him to Dave's apartment. She got out, hope in her heart, and ran up the steps. She found Smithers on the panel out front and rang the bell.
Nothing.
She rang it again and again.
Still nothing.
She found the super's apartment and rang it.
“Yes?” Came a metallic voice.
“I'm trying to track down one of your tenants, a Dave Smithers?”
“Yeah? He's gone.”
“The apartment is vacant?”
“Yep. I got a guy moving in in a coupla weeks. So it's already taken.”
“I don't care about the apartment—I need to find Dave!”
“Sorry, can't help you.” The voice clicked off.
She hit the button again. When he didn't answer, she pressed down and held it. It took longer for him to respond.
“Listen, lady—”
“You don't understand! I'm pregnant!” she blurted. “He owes me!”
A long silence ensued and Marti waited, holding her breath. Finally the lock clicked and she grabbed the door and opened it. Walking down the dim hallway, she found the super's apartment. He was waiting by the open door, a short, swarthy man with a two
-day growth of beard in a stained T-shirt and dirty jeans.
“You don't look pregnant,” he said when he saw her.
“It's ... recent,” Marti said. “Look, I just want to find him. He doesn't know, you see. I'm sure he'd want to know.”
The man shrugged. “Well, it's possible he might've given me a forwarding address, for emergencies only, you understand. He told me not to give it out to just anybody.”
“Please, can I have it?”
“I dunno. What's in it for me?”
Marti knew the answer to that one. “I'll suck you off.”
His eyebrows went up. “You shittin’ me?”
“No.” Her Stunners made her add, “And you can slap my tits too.”
He broke into a big smile. “Come on in, lady.” He opened the door wide.
* * * *
A half-hour later, Marti was back on the street, the man's bitter-tasting sperm still on her tongue, her breasts aching but satisfied, and a slip of paper with Dave's address on it—in Boston!
Why would he up and go to Boston when he was so successful here?
Marti wanted to call and tell the other Stunners’ girls about her discovery but something made her hold back. It might be a dead end. But that wasn't the real reason, she realized. She wanted to have him all to herself for a little while longer, at least.
She told Steve she needed Friday off and he agreed, expressing some surprise.
“What's up?”
“My sister's sick—I have to fly to Boston,” she said, lying through her teeth. She didn't even have a sister.
Marti caught the nine a.m. shuttle to Boston on Friday and landed an hour later. She took a cab to Dave's apartment. She found his name and buzzed him, but he wasn't in. She tried the super's apartment.
“Yeah?”
“I'm trying to find Dave Smithers. He just rented 4C.”
“Oh, yeah. He's probably at work now.”
Her heart began to beat rapidly. “Can you tell me where he works?”
“He's got some kinda shop, down on Piedmont, I think.”
Her heart leapt. “Thanks.”
Marti hailed a cab out front and asked to be taken to Piedmont Street.
“I'm looking for a shop, but I don't know the exact address—can we just drive along it?”
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